In which Piers makes an interesting discovery

When we returned from the trip to Florida, I found a small dirt-dauber nest in my car (I'd left the windows down since it was in the garage anyway).  When I broke it open, I was surprised to find that it was full of spiders!  Turns out, that's what these insects do:  they pack the cells full of spiders for the larvae to feed on.  Gruesome, huh??  I showed the boys, and there were two reactions:  one of them started stomping on them, the other picked a few up to look more closely. 

Finisher!

In which Piers builds a bike.

I got my bike from Fed Ex just as we were getting back from the Florida trip.  The plan was to do the SuperTrek ride today, then build the bike tomorrow as a treat.

But I couldn't wait.  Apart from one bent part, it went quite well.

pictures and brief story here.

Hopefully it arrives today!

IMG_1664.JPG (1536×1024)

Adventures in parenting, vol. 24

This video was shot by The Baby.  See if you can figure out the part where he knows he's going to get caught.

Monday Update, Memorial Edition

• Uncle Hal was a WWII vet.  I didn't know that for years & years . . . he never talked about it.  I will be proud for any one or all three of my boys to serve in the Armed Forces, if that's what they wish to do.
  
• Number One Son had soccer camp all week last week . . . which amounted to just a couple of hours of playing soccer every morning.  Still, he had a good time with it.  While he played soccer, I did some work in the office, and actually had a major breakthrough in terms of where my research should go for the foreseeable future.
  
• This week's moment of serendipity:  I discovered a good deal on the bike I've been wanting for a very very very long time.  A 2010 Raleigh One Way for several hundred dollars cheaper than the usual retail.  It's an incredibly lovely bike:  steel, single speed, and WHITE!  It should arrive this week via FedEx. 
  
• Speaking of bikes, we drove up yesterday to Mayfield, KY to visit friends--he's a colleague of mine, and we've made a few visits up to their house--and while the children all went swimming, he and I went for a 30 mile bike ride.  The roads up there are lovely . . . even when they are reflecting 95 degree heat up into the face of the rider.  Time well spent, especially given what we're going to do on June 11.
  
• More strawberries!  We picked another zillion quarts on Saturday.
  
• The children cannot stop talking about the upcoming beach trip.

It's a bubble.

One of the more irritating things about working in the academy is that especially in the humanities, we seem so slow to react to what's actually going on in the culture. If we're not too slow to react, then we are prone to paying far too much attention to stupid crap rather than meaningful knowledge.

The worst part is, I'm busting my ass to give my students the best, while many of my colleagues give the profession a bad name...and the culture is taking notice. I don't think it's any coincidence that state appropriations for higher education keep going downward; we continually ask for more money, yet you should hear the way we tend to talk about our fellow citizens and the elected leadership of the state. Seems to me that if you go to a group with hat in hand, best to play nice.

And yes, I recognize that it's a far more complicated problem than what I've mentioned above. But the fact remains: this is a conversation that needs to be happening in every department on every campus.

Instapundit » Blog Archive » PAYING STUDENTS NOT TO GO TO COLLEGE: “The winners were announced today for a new fellowship that h…

More here, and here, if you can bear to read it.

Monday Update, One Day Late Edition

Dude's clothes are awesome (and no doubt expensive . . .
but check out that bike!!

• Don't look now, but The Runner and I may have gotten one step ahead of the yard . . . for now.  It has helped that it hasn't been raining all day every day. If I could find a way to make the roses thrive and a way to deal with (i.e., eliminate) the Diodia Virginiana, I'd consider my yardening a total success.
• We are two weekdays into summer now.  by 7:00 yesterday morning, the two older boys were already bickering.  This morning, Number One got up at 5:30 and turned on the TV.  Only two days down.
• On the upside (and this is quite the upside), the runner and two of the three boys picked strawberries on Saturday (the littlest one was there too, but he didn't really pick any strawberries).  Which means our freezer is once more filling up with strawberry jam, and we are once more eating lots of strawberry-centric foods.  I tell The Runner that I'll never refuse fruit to the children, so they take advantage.  Pictures of recent hijinks here.
• Bike riding:  I have gone on three rides since Thursday, each of more than 15 miles.  For me, that's a big change from the past couple of years. The Runner is supportive of my spending a lot of time in the saddle, even if that means she is *ahem* saddled with the children.  For that I am most thankful.  I'll be especially thankful while riding that Metric Century up in Illinois a couple of weeks from now. 
• Course Evaluations from the Spring came in.  In a surprising development, I was most often (80+% of the time) called "enthusiastic" in the classroom.  Okay, so perhaps not that surprising.  One student did call me smart, though!
• Project Kick My Own Ass (hereafter PKMOA) is going fairly well so far this week:  yesterday, though weather forestalled a long bike ride, I did spend all afternoon doing yard work.  The academic part of the project is complicated by: a) the closure of the second floor of the library (yeah, that's the floor with all the study carrels and the books); and b)the mysterious failure of the overhead lights in my office.  The floor lamp and desk lamp provide adequate illumination for casual work, but the more intense stuff has become that much more challenging.
• Attempting to cultivate focus.

In which Piers takes a big step.

I allowed a friend to talk me into this event, held in Metropolis IL:

June 11:  SuperTrek Bike Ride.  Bike riders young and old start the ride at Fort Massac and can choose one of several routes.  Rest stops await riders in various locations.  For more information, call 800-949-5740.  Entry fee.

We're riding the 64-mile route, of course.  I told him that at this point I'm only interested in finishing the course, not in doing it in style or particularly quickly.  Still.  I imagine it will be a most humbling experience.  

Wondering if the river flooding will complicate or cancel the event.

(the shirt says "shut up, legs!" . . . a famous Jens Voigt utterance)

the $4000 question

The question:  did my online Shakespeare class make the grade?

The answer:  yes, it's good enough.

I'm glad . . . the money kinda helps repay the mental strain & stress of teaching a 5th class this term.  Now, are there questions worth asking about evaluating a course based on its adherence to a rubric containing items like

1.3 Etiquette expectations (sometimes called “netiquette”) for online discussions, email, and other forms of communication are stated clearly.

...but I will also admit that this online teaching methodology, along with its quirks, is something I need to get a handle on as my profession changes.  One of the worst fates I can imagine is to become even more of a dinosaur in this business. 

In all honesty, I don't feel like I did a great job, and I have some serious concerns about Blackboard 9 . . . but I'll gladly take whatever kudos get tossed my direction.

One year ago today

Monday Update, End of Semester Edition

• I got so sick on Thursday that I had to come home in a rush. . . on a day I had reserved for calculation of final grades for my 5 classes.  Well.  I did calculate grades, albeit in a kind of delirium due to some severe gastrointestinal difficulty.  Thus, a grueling semester comes to an end.  I slept that whole afternoon.
  
• It was a pleasure to see ELC, my university scholar, come to the triumphant end of her career.  Won't see another like her for quite some time, I fear.  I'm going to miss seeing her every week (and often more than once a week).
  
• There have only been a couple of complaints about grades, so I'm feeling pretty sanguine about all that . . . it was a grueling semester.  I could use about three or four straight days of nothing but sleep.  Toward the end there I could tell that the toll was more than just fatigue:  chronic heartburn, permanent fog of the brain, etc. 
  
• The Runner has done a remarkable job keeping her head above two or three situations that would have dinged up other people--situations where she was being implicitly asked to take a side, and where she adroitly managed to not get dragged in. 
  
• The week of dreaded clutch repair on the 2001 CR-V ended up costing a paltry $215 . . . felt like getting an extra paycheck!

In which Piers is tempted to hate.

We left FBC in this town several months ago, determined that the pastor was the sort that could not be trusted to do the right thing, and concerned about their focus on a new $9M building project that was proposed and approved so quickly that there was never an opportunity for the church to really discuss what was going on.

The going phrase was, "it's not a money thing, it's a faith thing."  The financial secretary of the church said, "can we do this?  No.  Can God do it?  Yes."

Well, cut to this week when The Runner has a conversation with the daughter of FBC's music minister--he has been increasingly marginalized due to personnel and philosophical changes.  Apparently, this week, he was abruptly asked to resign because they had some information on some indiscretions on his part.  The next day, his computer was gone.  On Wednesday, the church held a business meeting in which his resignation was announced and in which his accuser stood up and told her story to the entire church.  Apparently, four years ago, he hugged her in a way that made her uncomfortable, and said a couple of things that made her uncomfortable, and in the intervening four years she continued to sing in the choir yet never found the "right time" to make the crucial allegation.  During this sham of a business meeting, they also had the gall to talk about how this was all an attack by Satan on a church that is clearly "moving in the direction God wants" or some other bullshit like that. 

He, of course, was not allowed to defend himself.

Here's my take, and the reason I used the word "hate" above:  since the new pastor arrived, he has struck me as an authoritarian type.  It quickly became clear that he was not interested in fitting into the church he found, but wanted to reshape the church in his own image.  The music minister did not fit into that plan.  Because of the music minister's relatively foolish actions (whatever their motivation, which none of us can know), he was left open to an attack orchestrated by those who wanted him gone.  And so, he's out--and his career and reputation is finished.  And as for this woman and her husband, who are congratulating themselves (literally, as happened in a conversation with The Runner) for being so brave in their public destruction of a man's reputation:  I hope they take great comfort that they won.

This is a textbook case of how an outside pastor comes into a church and basically becomes the sole decision maker, building his own little kingdom.  If the music minister's life needs to be ruined in this cause, so be it.  I hate him, and I despise all the so-called "leaders" at the church who have bowed and scraped and essentially allowed this clearly dishonest, power-hungry man to become a petty tyrant.

These lines from "Lycidas" seem appropriate:

Last came, and last did go,
The Pilot of the Galilean lake,
Two massy Keyes he bore of metals twain,
(The Golden opes, the Iron shuts amain)
He shook his Miter'd locks, and stern bespake,
How well could I have spar'd for thee young swain,
Anow of such as for their bellies sake,
Creep and intrude, and climb into the fold?
Of other care they little reck'ning make,
Then how to scramble at the shearers feast,
And shove away the worthy bidden guest.
Blind mouthes! that scarce themselves know how to hold
A Sheep-hook, or have learn'd ought els the least
That to the faithfull Herdmans art belongs!
What recks it them? What need they? They are sped;
And when they list, their lean and flashy songs
Grate on their scrannel Pipes of wretched straw,
The hungry Sheep look up, and are not fed,
But swoln with wind, and the rank mist they draw,
Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread:
Besides what the grim Woolf with privy paw
Daily devours apace, and nothing sed,
But that two-handed engine at the door,
Stands ready to smite once, and smite no more.

Monday Update, Exam Week edition

some people's azaleas bloom all at once.  Ours take turns.
Saved the best for last.

1.  The CR-V is finally showing her age:  yesterday afternoon, all of a sudden, the clutch just wouldn't work properly.  I guess I can probably drive the thing to the shop, but it'll be rough going.  Makes me very sad...I know clutch repair isn't cheap.

2.  I bought The Runner a new camera for Mother's Day.  She'd been talking about how much she likes the one Honey uses, so now she has one of her own.  The Runner is a difficult person to buy for, so I was happy to see that she was genuinely happy to get it.

3.  Speaking of The Runner, she ran the Iris 5K in Dresden on Saturday, and came in first in the women's 30-39 division--while pushing the younger two in the stroller.  And she was all smiles while doing it. 

4.  We have become a house where strep infections are de rigueur . . . and thus, both The Kindergartner and Little Red are getting their tonsils taken out in late June.  I used to think that tonsillectomies were just a childhood rite of passage (especially thanks to Richard Scarry), but still, we're not saying anything about it to either of them for now.

5.  Now that classes are over, Piers is becoming ever more hermit-like.  Though I will say that the group in my upper level class, the group I just said goodbye to, was a fun bunch.  They had some interesting teacher horror stories to share . . . and some fellow-student horror stories, from classes I was actually teaching.  Apparently, I blocked out some of the details.

6.  Apropos of the photo above, it's always a shock in the spring when all the plants get going and the grass gets growing and we have to catch up from months of neglect of the yard (pretty much from right after the Pig Pickin' every year).   The insane amounts of rain haven't helped either.  But this year we have two adults at full capacity, so it should continue to run more smoothly. 

Adventures with Students, vol. 31

I try very hard to be a patient, compassionate, encouraging person.  Every semester I run into a few students who stumble for one reason or another (sometimes their fault, sometimes not).  Every semester I have a couple of students who are just not quite as socially adroit as their peers.  I try to work with them as best I know how; having challenging students is just part of the work, after all, and I've been teaching college classes for a decade (!) now. 



But this year absolutely takes the cake.  There have been too many.  I have simply run out of patience, especially with those who just keep pushing and essentially provide no effort in return.  There is one student who will fail my lit class, and there will be a huge uproar because of all the "challenges" she has had to face.  Well, I'll see your "challenges" and raise you the single mom trying to finish up while essentially escaping from an abusive boyfriend.  I'll see your "challenges" and raise you the mother of nine whose children are spread out over a couple of decades, who finished her work for me yesterday while trying to corral two boys here on campus. 

Sigh.  I'm tired. 

On the upside:  I am proud of my University Scholar, ELC--a bright and beautiful young woman heading to law school and probably an eventual judgeship.  Not going to see another one like her around here any time soon.  

Adventures with Students, vol. 30

I have seen some of the most interesting people and situations this term--most of them varying in their intensity but not their tenor.  It's been a lot of sadness.  On Friday, for instance, I got this in a written response to the class period:

My girlfriend and I have been together for almost three years now.  We had decided it may be time to get married once we graduate but after today I am seriously reconsidering this.  I don't think I am quite ready to give up everything you were talking about.  I just turned 20, and I plan to graduate in a little less than two years, so that would put me at 22.  I think I'm gonna have to put the marriage thing off for awhile.  I'm telling my girlfriend it was because of you.  Haha

I'm not sure what I said to cause this reaction.  We were studying Rasselas, for what it's worth.

I'm not going to email him and tell him he's making the right call--though I think he is.  He has seemed remarkably unhappy.

Monday Update, Half Marathon Edition.

1.  We went to Nashville to support The Runner in her third half-marathon.  We camped out at FBC and waited for her to run by on Broadway, which she did, and then we met her at the end of the race.  She looked like she had barely run three miles--and though she said it "kicked her tail," it turns out that she ran a personal best.  We were most proud of her, and the weather was perfect.  I got her a banana split to celebrate.

2.  This week's illness courtesy of The Vulcan Baby--maybe.  Not sure what his deal is, but he's been running a fever and managed to throw up his entire lunch and breakfast in his car seat about 30 minutes into our drive home yesterday.

3.  My honors student passed her honors thesis defense with flying colors on Friday.  Everyone was really impressed with her work, and I was proud to be her advisor & friend.

4.  Today is the last day of class for this term.  Not a day too early, either.  Good heavens, what a grind.

5.  I received good news on Friday; The Vice Chancellor of Academic Affairs informed me that he has recommended my application for tenure and promotion to the Chancellor.  It's now a fait accompli, but it's bemusing to watch the process drag on...and on...and on...

Adventures with Students, vol. 29

Here is the list of terms I wrote on my little "joke" whiteboard to take out under the big tree in the quad and teach the last little bit of Paradise Lost outdoors:

• Prevenient Grace
• Intercession
• Immanence
• Temperance
• Liberty
• Typology
• Conscience

I'm not a theologian by training, but I don't do too badly.

"To do what is difficult all one's days / As if it were easy, / That is faith."

Joseph

Through cracks, up ladders, into water deep,
I squeezed, I climbed, I swam to save
     My own true Love:
Under a dead apple tree
I saw an ass; when it saw me
     It brayed;
A hermit sat in the mouth of a cave:
     When I asked him the way,
He pretended to be asleep.

Chorus (off)

Maybe, maybe not.
But, Joseph, you know what
Your world, of course, will say
About you anyway.

Joseph

Where are you, Father, where?
Caught in the jealous trap
Of an empty house I hear
As I sit alone in the dark
Everything, everything,
The drip of the bathroom tap,
The creak of the sofa spring,
The wind in the air-shaft, all
Making the same remark
Stupidly, stupidly,
Over and over again.
Father, what have I done?
Answer me, Father, how
Can I answer the tactless wall
Or the pompous furniture now?
Answer them . . .

Gabriel

No, you must.

Joseph

How then am I to know,
Father, that you are just?
Give me one reason.

Gabriel

No.

Joseph

All I ask is one
Important and elegant proof
That what my Love had done
Was really at your will
And that your will is Love.

Gabriel

No, you must believe;
Be silent, and sit still.

--from Auden, "For the Time Being" (1942)

Easter Sunday

Easter Wings
by George Herbert

Lord, Who createdst man in wealth and store,
        Though foolishly he lost the same,
              Decaying more and more,
                      Till he became
                        Most poore:

                        With Thee
                      O let me rise,
              As larks, harmoniously,
        And sing this day Thy victories:
Then shall the fall further the flight in me.

My tender age in sorrow did beginne;
  And still with sicknesses and shame
        Thou didst so punish sinne,
                  That I became
                   Most thinne.

                    With Thee
                Let me combine,
      And feel this day Thy victorie;
    For, if I imp my wing on Thine,
Affliction shall advance the flight in me.

Good Friday.

George Herbert

REDEMPTION.       

HAVING been tenant long to a rich Lord,
            Not thriving, I resolved to be bold,
            And make a suit unto him, to afford
A new small-rented lease, and cancell th’ old.

In heaven at his manour I him sought :
            They told me there, that he was lately gone
            About some land, which he had dearly bought
Long since on earth, to take possession.

I straight return’d, and knowing his great birth,
            Sought him accordingly in great resorts ;
            In cities, theatres, gardens, parks, and courts :
At length I heard a ragged noise and mirth

            Of theeves and murderers :  there I him espied,
            Who straight, Your suit is granted, said, and died.

In which Piers counts the reasons

Here's how I know it's almost the end of the term:

1.  I come home and sit down and almost immediately start thinking about sleep.
2.  I'm eating A TON of junk food.
3.  I'm ignoring work email.  Just outright ignoring it.
4.  I can't remember the last time I got any exercise.
5.  Did I mention the sleep part?
6.  Oh, and the grouchiness, impatience, etc.

Adventures in parenting, vol. 23

Strepto--Little Red
Strepto--Vulcan Baby
Strepto--Kindergartner

We had to make some adjustments today, as The Kindergartner gave evidence that he might be sick from something or another.  Sure enough, he has strep--according to the doctor, for the fifth time in a year.  Which means two things:  either The Runner or Piers is carrying a strain, and he may need to get his tonsils out.  He wasn't pleased about that possibility when the doctor mentioned it.  I got him some strawberry ice cream to help it go down more easily.

Monday Update

The boys enjoyed the rodeo on Thursday night.  Yes they did.

Mid-April Allergy edition.

• The past week was pretty rough on Piers . . . all day in bed on Sunday, and then all day in bed on Thursday--hoarse and coughing in between.  At first, I was pretty sure that I was just having allergies . . . now I'm wondering if it's some sort of bug.  Yeah, yeah, everyone says "go to the doctor," but no one is going to help me carve out the time to do it, so I'll just suck it up.
• The Kindergartner had a chorus part in the church's Easter program, so his schedule went thusly:  Monday--school & taekwondo; Tuesday--school & choir practice; Wednesday--school, taekwondo, and choir practice; Thursday--school, afterschool, and rodeo; Friday--school & 1st choir presentation.  I went and saw the show last night; it was good in parts and rough in parts--and he looked most small and serious up there singing.
• We finally took the time to dig up a strip along the back of the house in order to make it a flower bed.  Took us three hours on Sunday afternoon and some extra time today to finish tearing up the sod and then to spread the mulch.  Phlox and Irises are in the plan . . . not yet quite sure what else.
• The two outdoor kitties (yes, Simon has been permanently installed outdoors) really enjoy it when we're out playing and working in the back yard.
• Sad development: Little Red is now saying "puppy dog" rather than "puppy gog."
• The Runner keeps running:  she started Saturday with eight-plus miles, then finished with the Brian Brown 5k (and came in second in her division).  The Country Music Half Marathon is in about 12 days.

The Secret of Kells

The "Chi-Rho" page, partial focus of the film.

I watched this last night, thanks to Netflix.  And it was fascinating!  I'm not sure it would hold the attention of my children, but it sure held mine, if for no other reason than the gorgeous, highly stylized animation:



It also points out, sort-of as a side note, that there's a rich tradition of Celtic Christian history that most of us don't really know much about . . . and that's a pity.  The tradition that gave us the Book of Kells, the Lindisfarne Gospels, etc., is worth knowing about.

There's something about this kid.

In which Piers surveys his current efforts

Current efforts are not overly pleasing.

I've been looking over some changes I need to make, and there are too many to go over here, not to mention the fact that just thinking about them is disheartening.  With the end of the term, however (which isn't that far away now), comes the end of certain professional responsibilities, to which I can only say "huzzah!"

That doesn't undo the difficulty of making some of these necessary changes, but it does at least simplify the picture a bit. 

Adventures in parenting, vol. 22

Today's schedule:

6:40--awakened by Little Red.
6:55 - 8:45--tend to two younger boys while The Runner goes running.
9:00 - 11:00--frantically prepare for Milton class.  Make office coffee. 
11:00 - 12:15--teach Milton class. 
12:30--arrive back home to relieve The Runner of Streptobaby duty.
12:35 - 1:30--eat some lunch, catch up on emails, read.
1:31 - 3:15--tend to Streptobaby, who has awakened from his nap too early and is a mite crabby.
3:20 - 3:30--leave Streptobaby with sitter (KE), drive back to campus, blasting Rush.
3:35--arrive at afternoon meeting 35 minutes late.  Give report.
3:36 - 4:20--experience rest of meeting.
4:21 - 4:30--drive home.
4:55 - 5:20--tend to Streptobaby while The Runner picks up his older brothers.
5:20 - 8:00--mayhem.  Apparently Little Red has lost the ability to understand spoken instructions.

Monday Update.

1.  This was the Weekend of Allergic Attack.  Apparently, Cedar pollen likes neither Little Red nor I.  An indoor quarantine helped to some extent, but I still feel like I have the flu today.  And that's saying nothing about how I sound!

2.  Speaking of Little Red, we are definitely in a new emotional/cognitive stage with him, and it has to do with his Will.  One manifestation:  he will repeat the same statement 10-15 times in increasing levels of volume until you answer him.  Another manifestation: he has discovered that he can outright refuse and even throw fits when we instruct him to do something he doesn't like.  The Vulcan Baby has learned to say "djuh djuh" to The Kindergartner and "maaaaoooww" to the cats.  Even in the middle of the night last night, when he woke up with a fever of 103.6 (!), he looked at Sir Philip Sidney sauntering by in the hallway and said "maaaoooww."  

3.  I chose not to get angry yesterday when JH, one of the gentlemen who lives across the street (and whose mother also lives across from us...their lots adjoin each others'), came to the door and inquired whether or not we were planning to mow our grass, and whether or not we were sick or something and couldn't get to it.  In all fairness, it was looking shaggy . . . but it just so happened that we were working on the mower over the weekend and had just gotten it ready to go.  The Runner was about to set out in my place (due to my being quarantined).  I declined to offer any explanation, just told him that as a matter of fact, we were about to get to it.  It's a good thing that I answered the door and not The Runner...when I told her about the conversation, she got livid.  On the upside, Little Red was really friendly to the guy.

4.  I overheard a colleague a few minutes ago talking about how he wasn't thrilled with the participation in the class visits (there's a committee of my colleagues who visit composition classes to pitch sophomore- and upper-level courses) . . . but he also expressed surprise and delight that we picked up over ten majors this past couple of weeks.  I want to shake them sometimes:  students sign up for majors because they come across professors who inspire them!  If we show them in real life the value (not to employers, but to them as people) of what we do, then they will sign up for our classes!  Good lord, nobody more boneheaded than a professor, sometimes.

5.  That said, I'm increasingly convinced that the profession is headed for a major change in this next decade--I may have joined up on the tail end of the old system, which means I may have to live through a painful and radical transformation of this work.  Seeing things this way, I can't in good conscience advise students to enter traditional humanities graduate programs unless they know exactly what they want to do and are a match for the smartest people I knew at Carolina.  Instead, it's about developing a toolkit of skills even as they store their minds with a whole selection of knowledges.

6.  This has been a brutal semester work-wise, and that's with a couple of things having fallen through.  Thank heavens, in retrospect.  I'm ready for some rest.

Dang you, you trees and your reproduction.

This stuff right here: Oak pollen.  It even looks nasty.  It has waylaid Little Red but good, and is making me miserable.  Apparently, the Oak trees decided to bloom in the middle of this past week, and the pollen count in the air is quite heavy.  Even after a little more than an hour outside today, Little Red was wheezing to the point where he asked for a breathing treatment (and we're glad we don't have to use Albuterol).  I just have a burning throat...I'm getting off relatively easily. 

Thank heavens we didn't have to do the hospital thing with Little Red.  I was making plans, but all that medicine on Friday did enough to get us through last night.  We're not letting him outside at all tomorrow.  

It's hard to do good work when the tools you have make it hard to do good work.

Two cases in point:

1. Blackboard 9
2. "SkyNet," the wi-fi connection on my campus.

As for Blackboard, the new version of the software is now so kludgy, so bloated, so hard to navigate, that after one semester using it, I'm seriously considering not doing any more with online stuff until they find a better solution.  It's really atrocious.  I know that our support people are committed to helping us learn all that there is to know, etc., but in 2011 there really isn't any excuse for developing, shipping, or using an e-learning platform that doesn't just work.  Mark Hurst has a lot to say about this sort of thing...I'm not sure that he's weighed in on Blackboard, but I can guess what he would say.  I don't have time to spend futzing around with settings and modules and the teeth-gritting work of figuring out what a menu means or does.

SkyNet, the new ultra-secure campus wireless network, is so secure that I can't connect to it, and apparently neither can anyone else.  The Powers That Provide the Intarwebs to us have sent around detailed instructions on logging in--but those instructions tell us nothing of the double-secret settings and pixie dust and magic incantations we need to employ in order to make the login even possible.  I need to spend time at work in the library--I really do.  But I don't want to go without wi-fi for things like, I don't know, using the library catalog, etc.  Apparently I can take the computer by the help desk and wait for them to mess around with it.  But why?  Is it not possible for them to set up a network that is actually accessible by the people who actually do the work around campus?

Difficile est satiram non scribere*

"service learning."
"The First Amendment is a good idea, but..."
"Please offer your students extra credit for x..."
"please provide a doctor's excuse."
"sorry for the inconvenience."
"you're a nice guy."
"kinetic military action."
"the more you buy, the more you save!"


*(title from the famous line in Juvenal's First Satire:  "it's difficult to not write satire!")

Vintage

Arrived in the mail today:

An Esterbrook Model J Re-New Point fountain pen from 1948;

A Sheaffer Balance fountain pen from c. 1940. 

cool, huh?  Can't wait to put ink in them & try them out.

Adventures with Students, vol. 28

It seems to have taken hold especially dramatically this year:  my students are weather hawks, and if any kind of storm is predicted, they panic and want to know if we're having class.  I seriously had a student email and ask if we were holding class at 1:00.  It was hard not to respond with something sarcastic, but I simply told her that if the university is open, we're having class.  I'm not sure some thunder & rain, combined with the possibility that there might be a tornado somewhere in a 300-mile radius, is reason enough to cancel class. 

I know that TV stations have to make money, and I know that it's good to know if a terrible storm is heading your way, but there's nothing to indicate that this is anything other than a garden variety spring thunderstorm . . . such as this area has seen every year for at least a millennium or two.

Adventures in parenting, vol. 21

tentative title:  "The Adventure of Rest-Time Movies"

Here (in no particular order) is a partial list of movies we have recently watched with the children (or that the children have watched on their own):

Despicable Me
How to Train your Dragon
Mulan
Cinderella
Megamind
Aladdin
The Lion King
The Lion King 1-1/2
Sleeping Beauty
Wall-E
Kung-Fu Panda
Robin Hood (they got bored with it quickly and asked for The Lion King)

We had been using Netflix for a while, but we've gone back to DVD's and (yes) VHS tapes (many of which we need to replace with a more--erm--21st Century option.)

I seriously want to show them Star Wars!

In which Piers makes an extra effort

I wasn't actually late--I was right on time, of course!

One of my colleagues, MEC, has a son who teaches English at some college in upstate New York.  He recently published a book on a famous murder case from this county, and has been doing something approximating a minor book tour.  He was here on Saturday, signing copies of the book at our local coffee shop.  She mentioned something on Friday about me going over there to meet him.  I sort-of absently said I would.  When the time came, I grumbled to The Runner that the last thing I want to do midday on a Saturday is spend it doing social niceties...but I went.  MEC was thrilled--nearly jumped out of her skin--when I showed up.  I was glad I had done it for her sake, just to see how glad I made her.  I like to do things like that when I can.

In which Piers sees a heartbreaking episode

At Jonathan's karate class tonight, one of the newer boys had an episode that was painful to watch.  He is a bit of a free spirit, and shows a marked lack of self-control--i.e., he finds it hard to remember to stand still, to follow directions, etc.  Well, tonight was his belt graduation night.  However, he got off to a really rough start in the drills for the day.  By the time his "test" came up, he had already used up all the chances the instructor was going to give.  During a sparring round, he started to kick and punch, caught up in the pleasure and excitement of the moment.  Instructor R made him sit down and informed him that he was not going to graduate to the next belt tonight.  The poor kid begged for yet another chance, but Instructor R was implacable.  He cried and cried, and called himself a loser.  Instructor R said, "no.  You just need to follow instructions.  No one can do that for you but you." 

At the end of the class, Instructor R had the little boy go apologize to his parents and tell them that he would do better next time.  The dad didn't move a muscle--didn't even change expression.  That was the part that broke my heart.  That little boy desperately wants his father's approval and maybe a glimmer of encouragement.  He got nothing.


I'm not perfect, but even I can tell when a little boy needs a dad's hug or pat on the back.  Anything.  Life will beat the boy down in time anyway--why not give him a boost while you still can?

Pains in the neck

I've had a crick in my neck that won't go away. . . and in fact, it appears to be getting worse, sending shooting pains down the middle of my back.  The Runner thinks it's stress because I'm carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders.



Let's examine, shall we?


1.  Keeping up with an online class is a bigger job than one thinks it might be, and it's made that much worse by the utter disaster that is Blackboard 9.  What a bloated, crappy piece of software.

2.  I have a student who is trying to finish her degree but keeps coming to class with stories like this:  "he came into the house last night, punched a hole in the wall, and threw me across the room."  whaaaa?

3.  I have another student whose end-of-class writings include things like, "I like to be in class because when it's over I have to go home to my girlfriend," and "I cook every night because apparently she can't."  whaaaaa?

4.  I know I should exercise, but honestly:  I have no energy.  I think it's time I did something about this set of drugs.  And yes, I know I keep talking about it without doing anything about it.

5.  There are marriages in our immediate circle of acquaintances that are in various stages of breaking up.  

...and these are just some of the immediate things in my little bitty world.  I'm not even going to address the news.

In which Piers has an outburst

One of the most trying things this semester has been the long, drawn-out process of searching for new faculty members:  one department chair, one Spanish professor, and one assistant English professor.  I somehow managed to avoid all the search committees, but still, the work has been weighing on us all to some extent.  In the department meeting on Friday in which we met to discuss the final set of candidates for the chair position, it became clear that one of them would win almost by default (the other two had been seriously deficient in one way or another).  During the discussion, I griped about the presentation of one of the candidates, loudly insisting that what she delivered was undergraduate quality.

But that wasn't the outburst . . . just a warm-up to the main event.  When one of my colleagues (who, I'll admit, I find off-putting in some instances) pointed out a problem in the "process" of the previous vote (the one my good friend JVG won by a scant margin), allowing some of our colleagues to apparently "abuse" the vote.  It was at that point that I barked out a challenge, asking him if he was accusing someone of actually abusing a vote in the department.  He affirmed that he was, whereupon I barked again that I'd like him to reveal which of his colleagues he was leveling the accusation at.  He said he didn't know.  I then demanded, "well, you must have some idea.  Was it one of us?  Perhaps somebody in this room fraudulently voted??"  He didn't back down, but did later come over and try to clear the air with me (by saying I'd misunderstood, and yet again repeating the same things he'd already said).  I assured him that I must have gotten the wrong idea.

I don't like losing my temper in a situation like that.  It leaves me far too exposed.

n.b.:  I'm not a fool.  I know quite well that when people start wanting to revise the process of a vote, it's because they didn't like the outcome.  Just like I know that when people start squawking about being "civil" they really just want to be able to control the argument though their ideas are losing.  And yes, I have historical precedent to prove it.

There are times when it's hard to come up with stuff to say.

Apparently, this week has been one of those times.  But I'm not dead!

Having the windows open at the house is nice.

The evening breezes are cool, and the fresh air helps the house feel less cramped.

The boys enjoy their time outside.  Yesterday evening, for instance, after getting home from Tae Kwon Do class, the elder two went to the swingset . . . I pushed Little Red while The Kindergartner swung himself and sang at the top of his lungs.

The downside:  See the picture.

Every day confirms anew the importance of this question

Given that I have a limited supply,
and that lots of things are pulling at it,
and that I lack the optimism I once had,

what is really worth my effort and attention?

Burton knows how it goes.

This Spring Break (almost over, as fate would have it) puts this in mind:

Voluntary solitariness is that which is familiar with melancholy, and gently brings on like a Siren, a shoeing-horn, or some sphinx to this irrevocable gulf, [1559]a primary cause, Piso calls it; most pleasant it is at first, to such as are melancholy given, to lie in bed whole days, and keep their chambers, to walk alone in some solitary grove, betwixt wood and water, by a brook side, to meditate upon some delightsome and pleasant subject, which shall affect them most; amabilis insania, et mentis gratissimus error: a most incomparable delight it is so to melancholise, and build castles in the air, to go smiling to themselves, acting an infinite variety of parts, which they suppose and strongly imagine they represent, or that they see acted or done: Blandae quidem ab initio, saith Lemnius, to conceive and meditate of such pleasant things, sometimes, [1560]present, past, or to come, as Rhasis speaks. So delightsome these toys are at first, they could spend whole days and nights without sleep, even whole years alone in such contemplations, and fantastical meditations, which are like unto dreams, and they will hardly be drawn from them, or willingly interrupt, so pleasant their vain conceits are, that they hinder their ordinary tasks and necessary business, they cannot address themselves to them, or almost to any study or employment, these fantastical and bewitching thoughts so covertly, so feelingly, so urgently, so continually set upon, creep in, insinuate, possess, overcome, distract, and detain them, they cannot, I say, go about their more necessary business, stave off or extricate themselves, but are ever musing, melancholising, and carried along, as he (they say) that is led round about a heath with a Puck in the night, they run earnestly on in this labyrinth of anxious and solicitous melancholy meditations, and cannot well or willingly refrain, or easily leave off, winding and unwinding themselves, as so many clocks, and still pleasing their humours, until at last the scene is turned upon a sudden, by some bad object, and they being now habituated to such vain meditations and solitary places, can endure no company, can ruminate of nothing but harsh and distasteful subjects.

(Burton, The Anatomy of Melancholy, Pt. 1, Sec. 2, Memb. 2, Subs. 6)

Add to this my reading Ishiguro's The Remains of the Day (a beautiful book).

Tenure & Promotion Watch, 2011

I was at the coffee shop this morning and in walks my dean, Prof. A.  She says, "I just finished approving your tenure application!"  Now it goes to the office of the VCAA (a.k.a. "provost") for final institutional approval. 

Looking like One Little Victory:

Lord have mercy.

Picture:  Ray Morimura

The world's a wonderful place--
If you don't mind laughing at your mistakes
If you don't mind feeling like you've lost your brakes
And if you don't mind
A touch of hell
Every now and then--
--Harrod & Funck



How long, O LORD? wilt thou hide thyself for ever? shall thy wrath burn like fire?
Remember how short my time is: wherefore hast thou made all men in vain?
--Psalm 89: 46-47






Certainly praise; let song mount again and again
For life as it blossoms out in a jar or a face,
For vegetal patience, for animal courage and grace:
Some have been happy; some, even, were great men.

But hear the morning's injured weeping and know why:
Ramparts and souls have fallen; the will of the unjust
Has never lacked an engine; still all princes must
Employ the fairly-noble unifying lie.

History opposes its grief to our bouyant song,
To our hope its warning.  One star has warmed to birth
One puzzled species that has yet to prove its worth:

The quick new West is false, and prodigious but wrong
The flower-like Hundred Families who for so long
In the Eighteen Provinces have modified the earth.


--W. H. Auden, "Sonnets from China" XI

Falcon

I've got a dozen or so fountain pens of varying quality; I like to rotate them with different colors, etc. 

I've decided that another fountain pen with a M or F steel nib is the last thing I need; what I should focus on now is writing instruments with some kind of character to them--either 18k or 14k gold nibs, or vintage provenance (like my 1972 Pilot), or special writing properties.  Like the item on the left, the Namiki Falcon...a pen famous for having an extra-flexible nib. 

Maybe I'll treat myself at some point.  Or if any reader is looking for a gift to get me, this or an italic nib Pelikan would do nicely.

Farewell, Simon

We had to throw Simon out of the house.  He deliberately swiped at and scratched the baby one too many times.  He's angry about it, and isn't getting along with Garage Kitty, so I don't know what we're going to do other than show that we're bigger and more stubborn than he is.  I don't like it, but I'm not going to accept our cat taking shots at the children.  Alas.

Know anyone who would like an affectionate 20-pound tabby?

Adventures with Students, vol. 27

This should actually be named, "adventures with my own mind."

I can tell I'm tired and stressed, and tired due to stress, because I'm even more scatterbrained than usual.  For instance, toward the end of a discussion of "Upon Appleton House" today, I referenced the following:



That was effectively the end of class.

3.

Weekend Update, Little Red birthday eve edition

The Runner is in Texas tonight, so she can help her family lay Boompaw (Boompa? Boombox?) to rest.  Apparently 103 years were plenty for him.  One hundred and three hard-livin' years, I might add:  digging oil wells in Texas and Latin America, not to mention the grocery business, etc.

We haven't done too poorly for ourselves here, even though the weather outside has been a bit cold.  Both days, the boys went out for a little bit.  Today they decided that they'd add painting to their list of activities, so I had to dig out the tempera paints and the paintbrushes and the paper and some shirts to use as smocks . . . I had three colors to offer them, so they used red, white, and blue.  The result was as one might expect:  a range of purple to pink blotches of color.

I watched an Akira Kurosawa film last night, and felt really virtuous until I realized that I was watching one I'd already seen.  Should have chosen Rashomon over Sanjuro, darn the luck.

Speaking of movies, the boys really enjoyed watching The Lion King 1-1/2 yesterday and today.  It's fun to hear them get tickled at stuff. And then repeat it approximately 28583 times.

I'm distressed by two things: 
1)  I just haven't gotten enough done this weekend. 
2) Apparently, several of my friends and colleagues have decided to become ass-heads for the time being.  It's possible I'm just being a crank, but I've heard and read some incredibly stupid stuff the past couple of days.  I keep stifling my responses, knowing that communicating my scorn is highly unlikely to help matters. 

Little Red's birthday is tomorrow.  We're going to keep that detail on the down low until The Runner can get back.  He won't know the difference. We will, but that's part of the parenting deal.

Don Colacho’s Aphorisms: #2,888

#2,888

The sinister uniformity that threatens us will not be imposed by a doctrine, but by a uniform economic and social conditioning.

Escolios a un Texto Implícito: Selección, p. 462

via don-colacho.blogspot.com

dystopia: not at the muzzle of a gun.

It'll Never Work!

It would fill the world with innumerable immoralities and give such occasion for intrigues as people can not meet with. You would have a couple of lovers make a midnight assignation upon the top of the monument and see the cupola of St. Paul's covered with both sexes like the outside of a pigeon house. Nothing would be more frequent than to see a beau flying in at a garret window or a gallant giving chase to his mistress like a hawk after a lark.

- Joseph Addison. [Concerns about where manned flight might lead (1713)]

via lhup.edu

Joseph Addison wasn't convinced that manned flight would be a good (moral!) idea.

Adventures with Students, vol. 26

Or, "the mystery admirer."

Much was made of this in my class yesterday:

• there is a billboard in the university center asking, "what do you like about UTM?"
• my name is written on that billboard.
• someone drew a heart around my name.