Fat Tuesday: Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar

A somber and random thought: Considering the scenes of Mardi Gras, I can't help but think that Christianity is getting what it deserves. Christianity adopted, co-opted, and re-imagined so many pagan holidays, is it any wonder that paganism is fighting back and conquering Christian holy days? Pagan materialism is retaking its old holidays (Christmas and Easter) and finding ways to compromise uniquely Christian ones (Lent). The great wheels of history that had carried Christianity forward seem to baring away its dying carcass. I am reminded of Matthew Arnold's Dover Beach:

The Sea of Faith
Was once, too, at the full, and round earth's shore
Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furl'd.
But now I only hear
Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar,
Retreating, to the breath
Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear
And naked shingles of the world.


A consolation is that the sea, whether advancing or retreating, is still the sea.


My wife reminded me that last year I gave up video games for Lent. I had blocked that painful memory out of my mind. She claims that I was a very productive member of the household until Easter. Tomorrow is Ash Wednesday...hmmmm


RIP Don Knotts 1924-2006

Peace

Lunging for Knowledge

There are those very few, but sweet, sweet lucky times that a teacher or parent accidentally stumbles onto a way to motivate a child. Sure, we all hope that students will become self-motivated learners who truly desire truth and understanding because they recognize the life-long value of curiosity and questioning. We hope that it will be our eloquent words of heavenly wisdom that inspire little fires of love for learning in the hearts of our students. The reality is that most students see little in school other than a hindrance to their social lives and an impediment to a happy home life. Motivating them is difficult and requires creativity, patience, and luck. One has to find that one thing that makes them want to make an "A" on their weekly vocabulary quiz.

One of my classes of Freshmen desires to see me do this:

"This" is a classic fencing lunge. Somehow, many moons ago, I told my students about my experience taking fencing as a college PE class (I am sure that it related somehow to the day's lesson). I was not terribly good at it, but I was flexible and someone broke a foil on my sternum once (which is actually a sign of poor fencing--I told my students it was because of my great strength). My students were intrigued that their overweight, short, nerdy teacher had ever done anything so interesting before and plied me with questions. One of my classes insisted that I perform a lunge so they could picture what I was describing. I refused. It was time to take the quiz, I said. Their faces fell. My spidey senses were tingling as I thought through the problem: where they truly interested in the mechanics of a lunge, or were they more like racing fans, unconcerned about the driver so long as he crashes dramatically? Was this another opportunity for them to laugh at the teacher or a chance to teach them something they had never seen before? Would this take me up or down the "cool" ladder?

After the quiz, I told them that I would perform a lunge as soon as the entire class made an "A" or higher on one of the weekly quizzes. It was, I hoped, a perfect solution. I would never have to perform a lunge because they would never be able to live up to their end of the bargain, and they wouldn't think me a killjoy for refusing to perform the lunge. The entire episode would, I was sure, be soon forgotten.

We are sixteen quizzes later, and they are genuinely still trying. I am surprised, but pleased, and I hope to inform you before the year is out that I have performed a lunge for the class. Until then, I have a standing appointment at the local sports medicine clinic.

Peace

BAFTA: Wallace and Gromit Win!

Our friends across the pond just held their annual Orange British Academy Film Awards. Wallace and Gromit: The Curse of the Were-Rabbit, a film screened and accorded strong reviews during a recent Super Duper Family Movie Fun Night (SDFMFN), was was named outstanding British film of the year (the Alexander Korda Award). Congrats to Nick Park and crew. Claymation lives!


Peace

Adventures in Grading

Last December my school opted to change the school calendar. The decision was made to get out two days early for Christmas (yeah!). To make up for those two days, we would be losing the MLK and Presidents' Day holidays (booooo!). What that meant for me is that I would be going from January through the first week of April without any days off. That is a long time to go without a breather. If you have ever taught before, you know what I am talking about. If you haven't, you probably think that I am a wuss (which I am, but not for this reason).

Teachers whine about a lot of things (low pay, bad kids, worse parents, overwork, administration etc); I try to refrain from whining too much about my lot in life as I did choose this lot, and there are some significant perks (Spring break, Christmas break, Thanksgiving break, summer, good kids, better parents, lots of laughter, etc). That being said, I needed some time off. I was behind in my grading, the bad kids were getting to me more than the good kids were, my wife has been sick with a bad case of the twins, the gutters needed to be cleaned out, the bills needed to be paid, and I was about to snap. So I took Presidents' Day off. And I took the day after Presidents' Day off to make up for the King holiday.

I spent my two days off in grading papers.

I packed a bundle of papers, a stack of rubrics, a case of CD's, and a CD player and headphones into my forest green LL Bean Deluxe Bookpack (an old friend from my college days) and embarked on two days of intensive grading.

I have recently discovered that the best place for me to grade is at the local public library. It is quiet, clean, and there are few distractions (if you don't count the thousands of books). I have found that I can grade about one paper every fifteen minutes at the library but only about one every thirty minutes at home. In addition, I can't really take breaks at the library. Sure, I might get up and stretch, but if I wander too far from my station, things will start to disappear, and while I would be glad to have the papers taken, I don't need my vintage Magnavox personal CD-player stolen (people looked at me like I was playing eight tracks--lay off people, I would love an I-Pod, but for now I am going old-school).

On Monday, I spent time at three different libraries. The first was my library of choice. It is new, well lit, and has plenty of individual study carrels. The bathroom was out of order. With a row of as-yet-unread-by-me new Harry Potter books resting over my right shoulder (self-control 1, Satan-worshipping adolescent 0), I graded about eleven papers and headed to lunch at Einstein Bros.

After a lunch of two plain bagels toasted with butter (they somehow got my order wrong) and more than one refill of my Cherry Coke, I realized that it would be dangerous to go back to a library without a working restroom. I reluctantly headed to the next local library only to discover that there are only four individual study carrels and that I was apparently allergic to the facility. And I had left my CD player on during lunch and the drive over, resulting in the death of four AA batteries. I graded about half a dozen essays and left.

I headed to the only K-Mart open in my area. I had three purposes in this. One, now I needed some allergy medication. Two, I needed more batteries. Three, this is The K-Mart. My first K-Mart. The K-Mart from which my first ever Lego set was purchased. It was the most holy destination of many childhood toy pilgrimages. I still remember where the toys used to be laid out. I still remember what aisle the Lego was on. So I was going for old-times' sake. Sadly, K-Mart has fallen on hard times. The toys have moved. There were approximately three Lego sets on the shelves and they were all Bionocle (argh). I departed K-Mart with batteries and allergy medications and a cheap DVD of World War II Superman cartoons and headed for library number three.

The third library is the main branch for my county. It is large, well-laid out, and the daytime home of my town's homeless population. With Hawthorne on my left and Huxley on my right and homeless all around, I went to work. Despite the sleepiness induced by the allergy medication, it was a productive time. I graded all 21 of my junior Transcendentalism papers and had made a beginning into my freshmen Lord of the Flies/Jekyll and Hyde papers. By the end of day one, I had graded a total of twenty-six papers. This beat my previous record (15) by a wide margin. A good day and I only read parts of a few books including a book of strategies for dealing with bad teachers and old book by Dinesh D'Souza.

Day two started late as my son has school on Tuesday, and we only have one car. I went back to the first library of the previous day and was glad to see that the bathroom was now open. I found a cozy carrel and plugged in my CD player (I brought an adapter this time). I quickly finished off seven essays only to find that I had brought the adapter but left the rest of the ungraded essays at home.

I returned home, had a snack, and returned to the library just in time for the after school rush. Every table was taken up with teens and math tutors. I returned to my carrel and worked non-stop for the next three hours, trying not to hate myself for not becoming a math teacher. By the time I went home after seven o'clock, I had graded another twenty-one papers for a two-day total of forty-seven papers. Sure, I still have twenty-five more to grade, and after reading a couple of dozen freshmen insights into Ralph and Jack's characters, I am ready to kill Ralph myself--just give me a stick sharpened at both ends--forget it, this red pen will do, but a successful couple of days.

If you need me, I will be at the library.

btw--I was joking about Harry Potter. While it is true I have not yet read it, it is not because of any personally held beliefs about the morality of Rowling's universe.


Peace

Mid-Week Miscellany: Castor and Pollux?

Finding names for our first two children was quite easy. We had a couple of names quickly picked out and vetted by our families. There is so much more pressure with twins. The trouble is multiplied by the fact that both my wife and I have a certain affinity for unusual names. My screen name is Splitcat Chintzibobs (from G.K. Chesterton's autobiography). My wife's is Fiorinda. Both of us were fond of the name Bronwyn for our daughter. I think the unusual nature of this name led to familial relief when we settled on the name we finally chose. Both of our present children have traditional names paired with slightly old-fashioned names.

My students have inundated me with potential names (usually a derivative of their own).

Sadly, the names that people pick for children are often chosen because of associations. After so many years of teaching, there is a long list of names that I would never choose because of the former student that I associate with that name.

My son has shot down every name we have mentioned. His only suggestion: Aaron.

We went to the doctor's yesterday. Everything is fine. We even got to see one of the unborn twins waving a leg (or an arm) quite vigorously. I still have not completely accepted it.


I just finished teaching Huckleberry Finn to my 11th graders. If you haven't read this book (or if it has been awhile) then you need to. It is one of the funniest books that I have ever read.


I realized that it had been a long time since we had a Super Duper Family Movie Fun Night when my son put one on by himself by drawing a bunch of pictures and showing them to his sister. My wife promises to post about this so I won't tell anymore. I went out and bought Wallace and Gromit's The Curse of the Were-Rabbit. I can't say that it is as perfect as the short films, but it has some moments of brilliance. There is a scene that involves a rabbit that thinks it has died and is now going into the light that was vintage W and G. It was the perfect movie for SDFMFN as both the adults and children enjoyed it. In fact, this has been the first SDFMFN that the two-year-old girl has been able to sit through in its entirety.


As you can see from the pervious post, I opened a Flickr account. If you haven't checked out what they are doing there, I encourage you to do so. I haven't figured out what I shall do with mine yet, but I have posted a few pictures here.

Peace

Flickr

This is a test post from , a fancy photo sharing thing.

Starbuck$

I went to a Starbucks.

I know, for many this is like a man in the desert claiming to have seen some sand. It is an everyday experience for a significant portion of humanity. You can't help but go to a Starbucks, even without meaning to do so. Finding a Starbucks is like stepping in gum. Walk down a sidewalk and you will probably step in one. One trips over them at grocery stores and book stores (which make the entire store stink, in my opinion). At this point you can probably see where I am going with this, so if you are one of the great many of people who have hitched your caffeine wagon on a Starbucks or have named your children Venti, Grande, and Tall, bail out now or you might become enraged and spill your Vanilla Bean Frappuccino® Blended Crème on your keyboard). That being said, going to a Starbucks is a big deal for me. I had never been to one before and would have been happy and a little proud to have gone to my grave without ever having set foot into one. I was invited to an informal meeting at one and felt obliged to attend.

I will not bother to waste your time by skewering the easily skewered aspects of Starbucks that have already been skewered by hands much more capable of wielding a skewer. Surely, one of the finest moments in Simpsons' family history is the families' visit to a mall only to discover that every other store is a Starbucks and all of the others are closing to become Starbucks.

I shall instead waste your time with two impressions I had after I purchased a small hot chocolate (I think they called it a Tall Hot Chocolate).

First, their hot chocolate is essentially brown water with a dab of whipped cream on the top. Granted, this is not their specialty, but if you are going to sell an 12 oz drink for three dollars and change, at least try to make it worth something besides the satisfying status of holding a authentic Starbucks cup in your hand. As I sat sipping my Tall Hot Chocolate, I wondered, how does this place stay in business? Do people think that it must taste good because they spent three dollars on it and they would be really stupid to have spent three dollars on something so mediocre?

Second, I was struck that Starbucks is a kind of upper middle class Waffle House. Both serve coffee, both of them are considered "hip" for their various clientele, both of them employ a specific type of person as servers, both employ a nomenclature intimidating to the uninitiated, and both serve below average or average wares. Is this an unfair comparison?

I am done. This really sounds like your prototypical blogger rant and for that I apologize.

In other news, I was discussing the fashions of the Roaring Twenties with my American Literature class (we are about to do Great Gatsby) and I said: "favored fashions not flattering to the feminine form." One of my students stopped me and asked if I meant to do that. "Do what?" I responded. "The alliteration in that sentence...that's impressive if you meant to do that." I had to confess that I didn't intend to do so, but I was impressed with her application of the literary term. Sometimes they learn something.

Peace

Update: I feel like a stole the line or something like: "Walk down a sidewalk and you will probably step in one. " I don't know from where I might have stolen it. It just sounds familiar. Also, my wife enjoys the occasional Starbucks. My review of my Starbucks experience was probably biased by the fact that I don't like coffee.

Snow Day Cancelled

Monday was almost a snow day. Atlanta meteorologists had been playing up the possibility all weekend. Because of the rarity of snow in Atlanta, local and state governments have very little road-clearing equipment, and native drivers have very little common sense when driving on ice, snow, and really cold rain. Schools, of course, close at the drop of a flake. A few years back, most metro schools closed because of the forecast of snow. It never snowed.

More often than not, however, the local news creates a possible snow or ice crisis (Snow Jam 87 or Ice Storm 77 or Storm Jam 06) that doesn't materialize and results in no schools closing and tens of thousands of broken hearted young people and thousands of bitter teachers. That is what happened Monday morning. From the time I last checked the weather on Sunday night to the time I got to school, I was dreading the day. I knew we would have school. I knew that the students would think that we shouldn't have school. It would be a tough day, like waking up on Christmas morning to find no presents and instead being forced to work a double shift at Walmart the day after Thanksgiving. Indeed, I made it to school without seeing any signs of an eminent winter wonderland. Classes began to groans of disbelief and disappointment.

Then it began snowing. There are three windows in my room. I usually have the blinds open in the morning. I considered closing them before the students arrived but realized that would make me a killjoy. Besides, if we did have some flurries, I wanted to see the snow.

The flakes began falling fast near the end of first period. My students, juniors, begged to get out and frolic in the snow. They offered a number of compelling arguments:
"You won't be my favorite teacher anymore"...right, whatever
"I thought you were a good teacher"...you were wrong
"Don't you like snow"...well, yes, when I am at home with my family
"Other classes are going outside"...oh dear, I see that you are right
"It never snows"...I see, then what exactly is falling outside
"We shouldn't even be here today"...can't argue with you there, kid
"I hate life"...right there with you on that one
"Wouldn't you want to go out with your kids in the snow"...actually I would probably close the blinds and make them clean their rooms
etc etc etc.
I didn't have the heart to cut off their protests. Mostly, I just let them vent. Mercifully, the bell rang, concluding the argument.

Second period (freshmen) came in and picked up where the juniors had left off. They were positively giddy with excitement. I tried to get us started with our work for the day (the passage from The Odyssey where Odysseus visits Hades--a great passage and appropriate to the mood of all), but they only had eyes for snow. They couldn't stay in their seats. They unleashed a torrent of reasons to go outside (see above). They begged, pleaded, bargained. None of their arguments were getting through my responsible skull.

What they didn't know was that there was an argument going on inside myself. There was the professional teacher who should crack the whip, close the blinds, and plow ahead into the material, crushing any opposition that got in my way. I had responsibilities. I was paid to teach. In fact, this part of me was winning as I actually closed the blinds. Their protests bounced off me as I returned to the podium. The other part of me wanted nothing more then to let them go outside and dance in the falling flakes. This part of me questioned what kind of man I was becoming. Had I lost my appreciation of snow? Where was my sense of wonder? How could I deny the joy of snow to a bunch of stir-crazy kids who already spend too much time inside engaged in the many drugeries of school?

Eventually, the arguments of my responsible side were fatally undercut when I realized that I was going to get nothing done in class as long as it was snowing and that it was pointless to continue. My responsible side offered a deal to the class: If we go out for a few minutes and don't disturb any other classes will you come back inside and get back to work? I knew the deal would be accepted, and though I doubted its efficacy, I let them go out.

They left quietly and danced in the snow. Upturned faces quickly grew ruddy with cold as fat flakes plopped into open mouths. For a few minutes there was nothing but a bunch of kids in the falling snow. Soon the flakes turned over to rain and we went inside with a few flakes still clinging to our hair and clothes. We spent the rest of the class with damp heads discussing Hades with only a few wistful glances out the window. I was proud that they held themselves to their part of the bargain. Sure, they probably think that they got the best of me, but that's okay because I don't think I could have forgiven myself if I hadn't let them feel the snow on their faces.


Peace

First Things First

One of my favorite magazines is First Things. Its writing is usually over my head and its pricing is generally beyond my wallet, but I enjoy it nonetheless. Last year, a kind set of parents participating in a "secret angels" program at our school gave me a one year subscription. Recently, I have been receiving reminders to renew every few days. I believe that the last one claimed that for every day I waited to renew, I would have to spend another day in Purgatory, because a day without First Things is like a day in Purgatory. February was, I believe to have been my last issue. I was looking at a long time in Purgatory.

Yesterday, I received the following note in my e-mail:

Mr. Chintzibobs,
We would like to know if you are still interested in the First Things
magazine that we gave you last year as your secret angel. It is time to
renew and we would like to do that for you if you still want the
magazine. We wish we could have gotten the teacher's angels program
going this year but we didn't get enough parents to participate.
Just let us know,
A couple of swell parents
[names changed to protect everyone involved]

Some days are better than others.

Last December, I talked our librarian into subscribing to Military History Quarterly rather than Christian History. I think it was a good trade but I felt like a bad Christian until I found out that my First Things subscription was renewed.

Oh, I made up the part about Purgatory.

Peace

My Heinie Burped

Warning: childish post following.

This is the first year I have taught freshmen in about six years. The experience reminded me of a near universal truth:

Freshmen boys stink.

I know what you are thinking: Big deal. That's like discovering that freshmen girls are shallow. In my last five years of teaching I have heard only one instance of audible flatulence. The student denied it with the passion of an Iranian president denying the holocaust. In the last semester I have had two freshmen commit the heinous crime. The suprising thing about the incidents was the lack of shame. There was a refreshing pride in the achievement.

Boys on protein shakes stink. The advent of our football program has, naturally, led to an emphasis on muscle bulk. Enter protein shakes. Exit methane in large enough quantities to put a thousand cattle on a thousand hills to shame. Again, the pride. I have had to rearrange my seating chart to accomodate the problems.

While no education class that I have heard of has ever addressed this problem, this is the one classroom problem for which my college experience fully prepared me.

My son calls them heinie burps.

I promise to elevate my posts to their normally high standards of adult discussion tomorrow.

Peace

Light Saber Alert: North Pole Recall!

One of my son's light sabers has broken. It is the one he got for Christmas. The sabers come equipped with a lock that keeps the saber from extending without first disengaging the lock. Somehow the lock has permenantly disengaged and something rattles around inside the handle. The saber is still quite capable of fighting off sundry bad guys and little sister. Wednesday, the day it broke, it was the first thing he told me when I came home. He went on to explain, "Maybe Santa's elves didn't do a very good job making it." I am still waiting for the recall notice. I fear it will not be issued from the North Pole but rather from China.

My students have given me many, many different ideas for names. I didn't come right out and tell them about the twins. I just posted a reproduction of the sonogram on my classroom wall. The sonogram was variously intrepreted as: "Are those its eyes?", "Is that a hamster?", and "That's kinda weird isn't it?". Several students looked at it during first period but couldn't figure it out. I gave up the secret accidently in second period. My students saw the sonogram and began talking about names again. In response I said something about "When the children come."
One of my sharpest students jumped on it, "Are they twins?"
I said, "Why do you say that?"
"Because you said 'children'."
They could talk about little else for the next fifteen minutes (it is a class dominated by a cadre of freshmen girls).

On Friday, someone put 10 $20.00 bills in my box. Wow. I keep saying Wow.


Peace