Thanks to Lorne Michaels and NBC for re-running a seminal moment in TV history last Saturday: the first episode of SNL in its entirety (in its original running order, only missing, as far as I could tell, a "hosting next week" segment from Paul Simon). I'd only seen famous bits before ("Wolverines," Andy Kaufman/Mighty Mouse, "New Dad"), so it was highly cool to see them in their original context.
I know they meant it as a tribute/farewell to Carlin, but it's strange how (inevitably) tame the whole episode seems, 35 years on--especially Carlin's four separate monologues. I was dismayed and amused to learn that Carlin's baseball/football routine, which was new here, was already 6-7 years old the first time I heard it, and largely unchanged from the '75 version. The only semi-biting monologue was the last one, which aimed some deservedly low blows at organized religion. The rest felt very G-rated and "amusing."
You can tell it took the show a while to find its feet, and it's wild to see just how different a beast it was the first few weeks, and especially how much they crammed into the first episode. It's more like a weird revue than a sketch comedy show. Each of the two musical guests gets two songs. There's the Kaufman bit, the Valri Bromfield Lily-Tomlin-ish bit (was this funny in '75?), the Albert Brooks film (also not that funny), the three or four fake commercials (absurd more than funny), and the Muppets (trippy more than funny). What scant sketch comedy there is appears in short bursts--the longest, Aykroyd's home-security salesman thing, is probably about three minutes--and Carlin appears in none of the sketches. Chevy's Update is a little forced (and remarkably brief), and he and the camera are out of sync for at least three jokes; at least he has the presence of mind to poke fun at the awkwardness. A door audibly opens and shuts during Janis Ian's first song. Don Pardo announces the "Not for Ready Prime Time Players."
How funny was it in '75? There's a cynical part of me that says SNL was trying very hard to be cool: "Look, we're making fun of television pitchmen! Look, we're lampooning the evening news!" All I remember from the late-night TV of the mid-70s is old movies and Johnny Carson, so if one goal of SNL was to be different from anything else on TV at the time, it succeeded. Watching it from the comfort of my living room these many decades later, I didn't laugh, I'm sorry to say--but I did smile a lot, and I was transfixed. It's a piece of our culture. And all evening the Mighty Mouse theme has been in my head.
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Monday, June 23, 2008
George Carlin (1937-2008)
The news took the wind out of my sails. Hard to believe the old misanthrope was 71, and it's too soon for him to not be with us.
Carlin was one of the first comedians I remember laughing out loud at; a friend and I howled while listening to Carlin on Campus in the early 80s. Then I backtracked in his catalog and discovered Toledo Window Box and FM & AM and Class Clown, and I discovered he was topical too.
He was well known for recycling old bits time and again, and I regret that his stage persona turned into "bitter old man"--what he gained in edge, he lost in humor. But he was always good for reality checks, whether he was musing on the absurdities of English or railing at white people to stop being black.
We need more reality checks a la Carlin; I doubt anyone of his caliber will step up to provide them.
Carlin was one of the first comedians I remember laughing out loud at; a friend and I howled while listening to Carlin on Campus in the early 80s. Then I backtracked in his catalog and discovered Toledo Window Box and FM & AM and Class Clown, and I discovered he was topical too.
He was well known for recycling old bits time and again, and I regret that his stage persona turned into "bitter old man"--what he gained in edge, he lost in humor. But he was always good for reality checks, whether he was musing on the absurdities of English or railing at white people to stop being black.
We need more reality checks a la Carlin; I doubt anyone of his caliber will step up to provide them.
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Jumping late onto the iTunes bandwagon: life (again) as a jukebox.
I don't own an iPod and don't think I'll ever have one: I feel little need to podcast, and I have other stereo components and music devices that fit the bill just fine. I still buy CD's and carry a zippable envelope of them in the car. Recently, though, I've discovered the pleasure and potential pain of downloading from iTunes. Given enough time and a bigger budget than I have now, I could do serious damage.
But even before iTunes--even when simply listening to a customized playlist on Media Player within the past couple of years--I sensed my listening habits had changed. Not the kinds of music I like, which have expanded, but how I hear it. If this were the 70s, it would be as though I had an expanded collection of 45's and fewer LP's.
The age of downloadable, "rippable" music strikes me as not something revolutionary but as a throwback to the eras when singles were a viable commodity. If you liked the hit, you bought the 45 and didn't necessarily buy the LP. Sometimes you had to buy the single, because artists often released songs for single issue only ("Suspicious Minds" is the first example that comes to mind). And back before LP's were a viable commodity, singles were definitely it.
So lately, I find myself less nostalgic about the passing of the CD era than I thought I would be. Over recording history, I think we've more often had music as a series of singles than as unified statements, and I'd rather think of the download era as power in our hands. Does this lead to a sort of "greatest-hits" skimming of an artists' catalog? Maybe. But with some artists, skimming is all that's needed. I can indulge my guiltiest pleasures (OK: early-70s AM one-hit wonders) one 99-cent song at a time and not have to suffer through inferior work.
The one-at-a-time method allows for an infinitely customizable "soundtrack" of one's life--ebbing, flowing, eternally in flux. Like, right now, my iTunes player is playing James McMurtry, soon to be followed by Dave Brubeck, Allison Krauss/Robert Plant, Fountains of Wayne, and Richard Thompson. I don't know what thread binds those artists together, and I don't want to know.
Yeah, that sounds exactly like my childhood. I just remember the radio was on a lot and my consciousness formed one song at a time. Perhaps downloading makes me, in fact, more nostalgic and not less.
But even before iTunes--even when simply listening to a customized playlist on Media Player within the past couple of years--I sensed my listening habits had changed. Not the kinds of music I like, which have expanded, but how I hear it. If this were the 70s, it would be as though I had an expanded collection of 45's and fewer LP's.
The age of downloadable, "rippable" music strikes me as not something revolutionary but as a throwback to the eras when singles were a viable commodity. If you liked the hit, you bought the 45 and didn't necessarily buy the LP. Sometimes you had to buy the single, because artists often released songs for single issue only ("Suspicious Minds" is the first example that comes to mind). And back before LP's were a viable commodity, singles were definitely it.
So lately, I find myself less nostalgic about the passing of the CD era than I thought I would be. Over recording history, I think we've more often had music as a series of singles than as unified statements, and I'd rather think of the download era as power in our hands. Does this lead to a sort of "greatest-hits" skimming of an artists' catalog? Maybe. But with some artists, skimming is all that's needed. I can indulge my guiltiest pleasures (OK: early-70s AM one-hit wonders) one 99-cent song at a time and not have to suffer through inferior work.
The one-at-a-time method allows for an infinitely customizable "soundtrack" of one's life--ebbing, flowing, eternally in flux. Like, right now, my iTunes player is playing James McMurtry, soon to be followed by Dave Brubeck, Allison Krauss/Robert Plant, Fountains of Wayne, and Richard Thompson. I don't know what thread binds those artists together, and I don't want to know.
Yeah, that sounds exactly like my childhood. I just remember the radio was on a lot and my consciousness formed one song at a time. Perhaps downloading makes me, in fact, more nostalgic and not less.
A walk in the neighborhood, and a clearing of the head.
Feeling refreshed and sweaty now after a pair of walks on this sweaty, overcast day, one with our dogs and one without--total of app. an hour. (Btw, yes, the new pic in the upper right is one of our dogs; she's striking a pose next to a paint can.)
Big revelation: sustained, vigorous exercise is the best thing for jettisoning evil thoughts. Who knew? Last night was almost a wash: with the young lady out of town at the beach this past week with her friends and me here, I nearly caved in to the "woe is me" line. But I caught myself and finally called a few friends before finding one who was around for dinner, and I drove up to meet him.
After a week of mostly chicken variations for lunch and dinner, what did I order? Wings. Of course! But they hit the spot. Well, they and three beers hit the spot. But I needed it. Good times: we watched a bit of the Braves game, chowed down, remarked ruefully on the passing of youth. This friend has been a friend since we were knee-high to a grasshopper--we grew up in the same subdivision for a while, graduated from the same high school, attended the same university for a bit. Our paths separated and re-crossed for 8-9 years, and now they've reconnected since I moved down here (almost nine years ago!).
Anyway, I had cabin fever and broke it. And the young lady should be back in town in a few hours. Yay!
Big revelation: sustained, vigorous exercise is the best thing for jettisoning evil thoughts. Who knew? Last night was almost a wash: with the young lady out of town at the beach this past week with her friends and me here, I nearly caved in to the "woe is me" line. But I caught myself and finally called a few friends before finding one who was around for dinner, and I drove up to meet him.
After a week of mostly chicken variations for lunch and dinner, what did I order? Wings. Of course! But they hit the spot. Well, they and three beers hit the spot. But I needed it. Good times: we watched a bit of the Braves game, chowed down, remarked ruefully on the passing of youth. This friend has been a friend since we were knee-high to a grasshopper--we grew up in the same subdivision for a while, graduated from the same high school, attended the same university for a bit. Our paths separated and re-crossed for 8-9 years, and now they've reconnected since I moved down here (almost nine years ago!).
Anyway, I had cabin fever and broke it. And the young lady should be back in town in a few hours. Yay!
Thursday, June 19, 2008
The not-writing beast comes back to haunt.
Today before class, I saw Colleague C, who co-directs a writing program for our faculty. (It's a fairly unique program for a two-year college, in that its purpose is to encourage faculty writing and research through grants and mini-grants. Two-years are teaching-centric, of course, and the teaching load wears out a body, so it's heartening to see such a program in place. Full disclosure: I received one of said mini-grants in '06 and received course load reduction; it was awfully nice.)
But we were standing there in the library atrium, trading pleasantries, and CC asked me the question that's become the bane of my existence (the albatross around my neck?): "How's the writing going?" And I wasn't bothered that he asked me, because the last time we crossed paths, I was probably writing. But I had to be honest: "It's not." Which triggered anew feelings not unlike those in this post.
CC has a novel to his credit and has just closed the deal on his second novel, which'll be out at the end of the year. I don't begrudge him that one iota. Novels are hard as hell for this ol' boy, let alone short stories, so I tip my hat to anyone who can submerge themselves for that long. But then, he theorized it might be the last novel he has in him, because he's so wiped out from the "non-writing" parts of the process--by which I suppose he means editing, rewriting, proofing.
And I immediately remembered what I hate most about writing: the "non-writing" parts. The submissions, the stamps, the incessant waiting. And for what?
Just to be writing poems should be its own reward, and it has been before. But I dunno--I fear I've been away from it for so long that I won't be able to find that groove again. And all the time, I question how interested I really am in poetry anymore, whether I'm not writing in a niche for a niche audience.
I keep thinking of the Rilke line (is it from Letters to a Young Poet?) which advises the poet to look deep inside his heart and ask whether he must write--and I can't say that I must write, at least not right now. And it bugs the shit out of me, and I seem unwilling to do anything about it--other than bitch about how bad a person I am for neglecting my obligation.
But we were standing there in the library atrium, trading pleasantries, and CC asked me the question that's become the bane of my existence (the albatross around my neck?): "How's the writing going?" And I wasn't bothered that he asked me, because the last time we crossed paths, I was probably writing. But I had to be honest: "It's not." Which triggered anew feelings not unlike those in this post.
CC has a novel to his credit and has just closed the deal on his second novel, which'll be out at the end of the year. I don't begrudge him that one iota. Novels are hard as hell for this ol' boy, let alone short stories, so I tip my hat to anyone who can submerge themselves for that long. But then, he theorized it might be the last novel he has in him, because he's so wiped out from the "non-writing" parts of the process--by which I suppose he means editing, rewriting, proofing.
And I immediately remembered what I hate most about writing: the "non-writing" parts. The submissions, the stamps, the incessant waiting. And for what?
Just to be writing poems should be its own reward, and it has been before. But I dunno--I fear I've been away from it for so long that I won't be able to find that groove again. And all the time, I question how interested I really am in poetry anymore, whether I'm not writing in a niche for a niche audience.
I keep thinking of the Rilke line (is it from Letters to a Young Poet?) which advises the poet to look deep inside his heart and ask whether he must write--and I can't say that I must write, at least not right now. And it bugs the shit out of me, and I seem unwilling to do anything about it--other than bitch about how bad a person I am for neglecting my obligation.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
"The New Poem," by Charles Wright.
Wright lived for much of his childhood in my hometown, so I'm naturally a big fan. His best work is not normally this declamatory, but he does declamatory well. For me, this is a powerful rebuff to Hallmark-sappy poems.
***
It will not resemble the sea.
It will not have dirt on its thick hands.
It will not be part of the weather.
It will not reveal its name.
It will not have dreams you can count on.
It will not be photogenic.
It will not attend our sorrow.
It will not console our children.
It will not be able to help us.
***
It will not resemble the sea.
It will not have dirt on its thick hands.
It will not be part of the weather.
It will not reveal its name.
It will not have dreams you can count on.
It will not be photogenic.
It will not attend our sorrow.
It will not console our children.
It will not be able to help us.
Progress/regress report: summer term, week 1.
Actually, it's too early for much regress, but I full-on expect it next week--when the first batch of essays rolls in. (Or maybe it's stasis.) So far, both classes are fine; Comp I has 9 students, and they're very quiet so far. Or, they're not quiet exactly, but they aren't interacting. That will change tomorrow, if only for an hour, when they bring drafts for peer workshop. I hate to force camaraderie when the vibe isn't there, but by god, they will interact.
They seem like diligent little worker bees, and they're mostly paying attention, I think. But they're dry; not much energy flowing yet. I see a nasty trend starting, of getting to class right at the beginning or a few minutes late; can't do much when two people are on time. Even though it's in the syllabus, I better have a word with them tomorrow. Technically, I can't say much if they arrive within the first ten minutes, because I give them that much in the syllabus, but some folks are stretching it already.
Comp II, by contrast, is shaping up to be fairly lively, though I've had plenty of lively Comp II's before. For the first few classes, everything couldn't be better as long as we're talking. Then, when they sit down to write their essays and realize yep, this class requires work too, the ol' doldrums set in. In discussion, though, they seem open, curious--they're participating and seem properly sober about poetry. I made a mistake in assigning Jane Hirshfield's "The Lives of the Heart"--it's brilliant but daunting, and it requires big imaginative leaps. If you're not used to doing that, then of course it's gonna be a long slog. In contrast, though, they did just fine with "A Time Past" by Levertov.
When it comes to Comp II essays, though. they often do better with short poems than with 9- to 10-page short stories. Something about the stories invites plot summary and not analysis--maybe their length? Student panic/laziness? So far, I've been emphasizing the need to have a "lens" through which to write about (and talk about) a poem, whether that's metaphor, diction, connotation, imagery, or any of a thousand others. Here's hoping.
And this is the summer of the international student: I estimate 90% of my 25 or so students in both classes are from outside the U.S. Funny thing is, a good many of them will write better essays than my native English speakers.
They seem like diligent little worker bees, and they're mostly paying attention, I think. But they're dry; not much energy flowing yet. I see a nasty trend starting, of getting to class right at the beginning or a few minutes late; can't do much when two people are on time. Even though it's in the syllabus, I better have a word with them tomorrow. Technically, I can't say much if they arrive within the first ten minutes, because I give them that much in the syllabus, but some folks are stretching it already.
Comp II, by contrast, is shaping up to be fairly lively, though I've had plenty of lively Comp II's before. For the first few classes, everything couldn't be better as long as we're talking. Then, when they sit down to write their essays and realize yep, this class requires work too, the ol' doldrums set in. In discussion, though, they seem open, curious--they're participating and seem properly sober about poetry. I made a mistake in assigning Jane Hirshfield's "The Lives of the Heart"--it's brilliant but daunting, and it requires big imaginative leaps. If you're not used to doing that, then of course it's gonna be a long slog. In contrast, though, they did just fine with "A Time Past" by Levertov.
When it comes to Comp II essays, though. they often do better with short poems than with 9- to 10-page short stories. Something about the stories invites plot summary and not analysis--maybe their length? Student panic/laziness? So far, I've been emphasizing the need to have a "lens" through which to write about (and talk about) a poem, whether that's metaphor, diction, connotation, imagery, or any of a thousand others. Here's hoping.
And this is the summer of the international student: I estimate 90% of my 25 or so students in both classes are from outside the U.S. Funny thing is, a good many of them will write better essays than my native English speakers.
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Free(d) Willie.
I'm still surprised and wanly amused at how the Mets let go Willie Randolph. I'm not surprised they did it, just how awkward and unprofessional they were about it. Randolph strikes me as a good manager, and I surmise he won't be unemployed for long. 2-3 years ago, he had the Mets on the right path, as the official line went, and now he can't catch a break. He gets fired after the Mets win three of their last four?
That Mets management sounds like a hot tranny mess, in any case. Buster Olney seems to have the right indignant attitude. Funny thing is, I don't think they're out of it yet. The Tigers seem to have turned themselves around after being lambasted for under-performing, and I bet the Mets follow suit.
As for the Braves...just when I'm ready to write them off, they also win three of their last four. With their 5000 injuries, they should by all rights be playing like the middling team their lineup suggests they are. The starting staff seems to be Tim Hudson and whoever else wants the ball. Jurrjens and Reyes have had their moments, though. Looks like the hitting has come around the last few nights, too.
I realize, in writing this, why I could never be a pundit for a living. That's too much reading. But I will go out on this limb: Chipper will not be able to maintain .400. His body (read: his "strained" quad, his knees) isn't gonna cooperate.
That Mets management sounds like a hot tranny mess, in any case. Buster Olney seems to have the right indignant attitude. Funny thing is, I don't think they're out of it yet. The Tigers seem to have turned themselves around after being lambasted for under-performing, and I bet the Mets follow suit.
As for the Braves...just when I'm ready to write them off, they also win three of their last four. With their 5000 injuries, they should by all rights be playing like the middling team their lineup suggests they are. The starting staff seems to be Tim Hudson and whoever else wants the ball. Jurrjens and Reyes have had their moments, though. Looks like the hitting has come around the last few nights, too.
I realize, in writing this, why I could never be a pundit for a living. That's too much reading. But I will go out on this limb: Chipper will not be able to maintain .400. His body (read: his "strained" quad, his knees) isn't gonna cooperate.
A burrito, a sick dog, and four hours of sleep.
At the moment, the song is "She May be White (But She be Funky)" by Howard Tate. Yep, that title says it all: not one of the soul legend's, um, better offerings. It's from his not-long-ago comeback CD Rediscovered, and it's kinda forced, sadly. I love the guy's voice but the backup doesn't do him proud--except for the last cut, a re-do of "Get It While You Can" which works just fine with piano only.
A burrito: first excursion to Chipotle Mexican Grill tonight, and it won't be the last. It's a fast-food/fresh Mexican stuffed-burrito place along the lines of Moe's, but 1000 times fresher and more flavorful. Yum, I say!
A sick dog: one of our critters has had some diarrhea problems (inside the house, unfortunately) but I think she's through the worst of it. Last night, and through the night, she had to go outside every hour or two, and she paced and got up/down all night long. She ate no breakfast and slunk back up the stairs, but she ate some dinner tonight after much prodding from me. So I take that as progress.
Now I think she's just worn out, because she hasn't moved from the living room in a couple of hours. But she also hasn't been jumping to go outside, so maybe the stomach's calmed down. I have some cooked white rice and cut-up carrots ready to go, and I'll try to slip her a little bit before the night is through.
Four hours of sleep: see above.
A burrito: first excursion to Chipotle Mexican Grill tonight, and it won't be the last. It's a fast-food/fresh Mexican stuffed-burrito place along the lines of Moe's, but 1000 times fresher and more flavorful. Yum, I say!
A sick dog: one of our critters has had some diarrhea problems (inside the house, unfortunately) but I think she's through the worst of it. Last night, and through the night, she had to go outside every hour or two, and she paced and got up/down all night long. She ate no breakfast and slunk back up the stairs, but she ate some dinner tonight after much prodding from me. So I take that as progress.
Now I think she's just worn out, because she hasn't moved from the living room in a couple of hours. But she also hasn't been jumping to go outside, so maybe the stomach's calmed down. I have some cooked white rice and cut-up carrots ready to go, and I'll try to slip her a little bit before the night is through.
Four hours of sleep: see above.
Sunday, June 15, 2008
A poem to jolt you awake, from Gregory Orr.
I want to go back
To the beginning.
We all do.
I think:
Hurt won't be there.
But I'm wrong.
Where the water
Bubbles up
At the spring:
Isn't that a wound?
To the beginning.
We all do.
I think:
Hurt won't be there.
But I'm wrong.
Where the water
Bubbles up
At the spring:
Isn't that a wound?
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
It could be worse, it could be better.
The word came down a few minutes ago: my American Lit. course got axed, and in its place, I now have a Comp II. So that's one Comp I and one Comp II--eek. But they're back to back, I've taught them both 500 zillion times, and I've had overall good luck with summer students. As well, Comp I will be small; 9 students now. (23 so far in Comp II, so an average of 15-16; in terms of grading, not bad.) I think our dean and department chair had mercy on me by letting that one make, but I'll take it.
So it's to school tomorrow to cobble together a C II syllabus and print the C I syllabus, plus gather some prelim. materials, and gather my rosebuds while I may.
My baseball-writing stuff is about done and ready to send. I think I'm on the right track tonally and informationally, but we'll see. I will say that writing capsule reviews of all these tasty Atl. restaurants makes me want something other than stew for dinner. :)
Now, away from this computer for the rest of the night.
So it's to school tomorrow to cobble together a C II syllabus and print the C I syllabus, plus gather some prelim. materials, and gather my rosebuds while I may.
My baseball-writing stuff is about done and ready to send. I think I'm on the right track tonally and informationally, but we'll see. I will say that writing capsule reviews of all these tasty Atl. restaurants makes me want something other than stew for dinner. :)
Now, away from this computer for the rest of the night.
Monday, June 9, 2008
College is not for everyone.
For those of you in the teaching world, this article has garnered a good deal of attention. If you haven't read it already, it's a real eye-opener and a sadly true indictment. I appreciate it for its frank opinion, but I also like how Professor X counts himself in the same situation as his students; he avoids the usual snark. And it's also perhaps a sad indicator that he has to use an alias.
As a former idealist, I have come almost full circle in a few years of two-year college teaching (about 10, all told): the best thing that can happen to some students is to fail a course or two, or be put on academic probation. I can't begin to tell you of the utter inability I saw this spring--not always lack of motivation, just inability.
But I can type my complaints and be satisfied, or I can do something like I'm doing this fall, which is teach our college success course--how to study more efficiently, determine a major, get to know your teachers, figure out your course of study, et al. So I'm still an idealist, in some sense.
I don't think motivation alone can guarantee a shining GPA, but with some, it's amazing how sheer tenacity can mean the difference between passing and failing. This article, to me, focuses on ability more than motivation, and I've always wondered how you determine the difference between the two, especially for a first-generation college student or someone who's back after a few semesters out--the "at-risk" group.
As a former idealist, I have come almost full circle in a few years of two-year college teaching (about 10, all told): the best thing that can happen to some students is to fail a course or two, or be put on academic probation. I can't begin to tell you of the utter inability I saw this spring--not always lack of motivation, just inability.
But I can type my complaints and be satisfied, or I can do something like I'm doing this fall, which is teach our college success course--how to study more efficiently, determine a major, get to know your teachers, figure out your course of study, et al. So I'm still an idealist, in some sense.
I don't think motivation alone can guarantee a shining GPA, but with some, it's amazing how sheer tenacity can mean the difference between passing and failing. This article, to me, focuses on ability more than motivation, and I've always wondered how you determine the difference between the two, especially for a first-generation college student or someone who's back after a few semesters out--the "at-risk" group.
The third time most likely won't be a charm.
I have a stunningly unmotivated student who has taken me twice the last two semesters for basic comp; each time he has failed, his final grade this spring being lower than his score last fall. He has signed up to take me again this fall for the same course.
I'm not really sure why, other than he knows my style and presumably knows what to expect. But I just can't see what he's going to get from me the third time that I haven't already offered the first two times. He isn't without ability, but his time management and motivation are poor, and his writing skills just don't cut it. And he's as much admitted to my colleague (who failed him in a college success course) that he doesn't want to work all that hard in college.
He seems to have his "eyes on the prize" but not on the work it's going to take for him to read and write at even a rudimentary college level. His placement scores were low; he's been plotzing along part-time in learning support courses since last fall and has not passed a single one yet, math or English. This fall is the first time he'll take reading, from what I can tell.
In the GA public college system, there's a three-strikes rule; if he doesn't make at least a C in basic comp next time, he will be banned from attending for three years. I know that seems harsh, but it's the rule.
I'm half tempted to contact him and urge him to sign up for another section of basic comp. Maybe he would benefit from another instructor's presence and skills; maybe he would find the motivation he needs. Or, more likely, he will continue his unsuccessful ways. Unless someone rips him a new one before this fall, I just can't see that much will change. As well, I'm also tempted to urge him to drop out for a semester or year, make some money, come back when the time is right.
What would y'all do, faced with this scenario? Am I just trying to pass him off to someone else?
I'm not really sure why, other than he knows my style and presumably knows what to expect. But I just can't see what he's going to get from me the third time that I haven't already offered the first two times. He isn't without ability, but his time management and motivation are poor, and his writing skills just don't cut it. And he's as much admitted to my colleague (who failed him in a college success course) that he doesn't want to work all that hard in college.
He seems to have his "eyes on the prize" but not on the work it's going to take for him to read and write at even a rudimentary college level. His placement scores were low; he's been plotzing along part-time in learning support courses since last fall and has not passed a single one yet, math or English. This fall is the first time he'll take reading, from what I can tell.
In the GA public college system, there's a three-strikes rule; if he doesn't make at least a C in basic comp next time, he will be banned from attending for three years. I know that seems harsh, but it's the rule.
I'm half tempted to contact him and urge him to sign up for another section of basic comp. Maybe he would benefit from another instructor's presence and skills; maybe he would find the motivation he needs. Or, more likely, he will continue his unsuccessful ways. Unless someone rips him a new one before this fall, I just can't see that much will change. As well, I'm also tempted to urge him to drop out for a semester or year, make some money, come back when the time is right.
What would y'all do, faced with this scenario? Am I just trying to pass him off to someone else?
As many different topics as possible.
I'm going to violate a cardinal rule of my comp classes and squeeze in as many different topics in this post as I can and under-develop them all.
The birthday dinner went over well. Even though I needed potato-baking tips and, in the case of the steaks, cooking assistance from the young lady, it was still 85% my effort. The roasted red pepper and artichoke relish was superb--that shit'd be good on regular ol' bread. Don't think I'm not thinking ahead. The recipe will be saved if only to replicate that. The potatoes were done nicely, and the asparagus turned out well too. Asparagus is the simplest fresh veg to prep. I roasted them in the oven; a little olive oil, a little salt and pepper, a little toss, and what do you know, I'm Tyler Florence. Top 'er off with a bottle of red, and you got some tasty goodness.
I've been to two Braves games this week--both losses, sadly--and now have enough hastily scribbled notes from which I will fashion the remaining pieces for my little freelance thingie. I need to have them done by the end of the week but probably will have them done before then, knowing how I work. Turner Field is in some ways a hard place to write about. My goal is, through these short one-page pieces, to capture some of the flavor of the place--but it's hard to say what's unique about the place. It's really like a big, loud Disney World; it's a place for the kids and the families, and I don't think I mean that disparagingly.
One of the pieces will be on the in-park food options, and that will be tough. Not that it lacks in food options, but they're overfamiliar and replicated on every level of the park: hot dog, burger, pretzel, popcorn, nachos, etc. I guess one strategy is to mention these and then briefly mention one or two standouts. That seems workable, and I have to remember these are 250-word pieces. I think my favorite semi-off-the-path food experience, nothing mind-blowing, was a bag of cinnamon-glazed roasted almonds that the young lady bought at this unassuming stand called The Nutty Bavarian. And yesterday's Chicago Dog was tasty--I have no idea how authentic it was, but it was piled with the onions, the spicy peppers, the celery salt, the sweet relish. Normally I'm not one for sweet relish but it was delightful.
So I'll get something together, and it won't even be what I intend, probably.
Still no word on whether my two summer classes will go. Enrollment in both hasn't budged in at least two weeks--still eight in one and four in the other. But like a good foot soldier, I'm prepping my syllabi anyway.
And it's hot! It's too early to be this hot, even in metro Atlanta in early June. Yesterday's game was a scorcher. I paid for a cheap upper pavilion seat and only sat there two innings; the rest of the time I wandered around, ate, and took notes. Tried to stay out of the sun. Left at the bottom of the sixth to catch the shuttle. I didn't much care we were tied; the game was plodding along and I had all the notes I wanted.
There--what grade would you give this post?
The birthday dinner went over well. Even though I needed potato-baking tips and, in the case of the steaks, cooking assistance from the young lady, it was still 85% my effort. The roasted red pepper and artichoke relish was superb--that shit'd be good on regular ol' bread. Don't think I'm not thinking ahead. The recipe will be saved if only to replicate that. The potatoes were done nicely, and the asparagus turned out well too. Asparagus is the simplest fresh veg to prep. I roasted them in the oven; a little olive oil, a little salt and pepper, a little toss, and what do you know, I'm Tyler Florence. Top 'er off with a bottle of red, and you got some tasty goodness.
I've been to two Braves games this week--both losses, sadly--and now have enough hastily scribbled notes from which I will fashion the remaining pieces for my little freelance thingie. I need to have them done by the end of the week but probably will have them done before then, knowing how I work. Turner Field is in some ways a hard place to write about. My goal is, through these short one-page pieces, to capture some of the flavor of the place--but it's hard to say what's unique about the place. It's really like a big, loud Disney World; it's a place for the kids and the families, and I don't think I mean that disparagingly.
One of the pieces will be on the in-park food options, and that will be tough. Not that it lacks in food options, but they're overfamiliar and replicated on every level of the park: hot dog, burger, pretzel, popcorn, nachos, etc. I guess one strategy is to mention these and then briefly mention one or two standouts. That seems workable, and I have to remember these are 250-word pieces. I think my favorite semi-off-the-path food experience, nothing mind-blowing, was a bag of cinnamon-glazed roasted almonds that the young lady bought at this unassuming stand called The Nutty Bavarian. And yesterday's Chicago Dog was tasty--I have no idea how authentic it was, but it was piled with the onions, the spicy peppers, the celery salt, the sweet relish. Normally I'm not one for sweet relish but it was delightful.
So I'll get something together, and it won't even be what I intend, probably.
Still no word on whether my two summer classes will go. Enrollment in both hasn't budged in at least two weeks--still eight in one and four in the other. But like a good foot soldier, I'm prepping my syllabi anyway.
And it's hot! It's too early to be this hot, even in metro Atlanta in early June. Yesterday's game was a scorcher. I paid for a cheap upper pavilion seat and only sat there two innings; the rest of the time I wandered around, ate, and took notes. Tried to stay out of the sun. Left at the bottom of the sixth to catch the shuttle. I didn't much care we were tied; the game was plodding along and I had all the notes I wanted.
There--what grade would you give this post?
Saturday, June 7, 2008
Kick it up...another notch!
OK, sorry for the Emeril reference. But! I'm making birthday dinner for the young lady tonight, and here's the entree.
I've budgeted out the time, I've figured out what we have on hand, and I've been to two, count 'em *two*, stores to get what we don't have on hand. How do baked potatoes and asparagus sound with this main course? We'll find out.
I've budgeted out the time, I've figured out what we have on hand, and I've been to two, count 'em *two*, stores to get what we don't have on hand. How do baked potatoes and asparagus sound with this main course? We'll find out.
Thursday, June 5, 2008
Preppin' for the inevitable.
...or at least what I think is inevitable: the six-week summer term, which starts 6/16. At the moment, the two courses I'm slated for have alarmingly low enrollments, so I'm trying to prep some but with the possibility of plan B.
Every semester I resolve to scrap my current schedule/layout and revamp, and every time I never budget enough time to re-think my way through it. American Lit. II, which I've done many times before, would benefit from a genre- or theme-based approach, but if it makes, chances are I'll substitute a few readings and keep the chronological format largely the same. If I don't revamp it, I should at least reduce the number of readings and concentrate more fully on certain authors and/or trends/movements. I already do a bit of that with the Harlem Renasissance, and I think it's the best time of the semester. Maybe a unit on realism/naturalism, one on feminist/protest writing...
My dream course forever has been titled "The American Dream," and I could definitely restructure Am. Lit. around that motif. But with only four students enrolled at this writing, I'm not gonna push it.
Comp. I has eight enrolled at this writing, which is a bit surprising--but maybe we overestimated how many summer students we'd have. I theorize that one reason is our fucked-up summer term structure, different yet again from the summer before. We have one eight-week term and one six-week term, and that's it. There's no longer a "first half" and "second half," and I believe students can't take as many classes now.
Anyway, I'm cautiously optimistic Comp will make, and not at all that Am. Lit. will. The word from on high is not to worry comma yet.
Every semester I resolve to scrap my current schedule/layout and revamp, and every time I never budget enough time to re-think my way through it. American Lit. II, which I've done many times before, would benefit from a genre- or theme-based approach, but if it makes, chances are I'll substitute a few readings and keep the chronological format largely the same. If I don't revamp it, I should at least reduce the number of readings and concentrate more fully on certain authors and/or trends/movements. I already do a bit of that with the Harlem Renasissance, and I think it's the best time of the semester. Maybe a unit on realism/naturalism, one on feminist/protest writing...
My dream course forever has been titled "The American Dream," and I could definitely restructure Am. Lit. around that motif. But with only four students enrolled at this writing, I'm not gonna push it.
Comp. I has eight enrolled at this writing, which is a bit surprising--but maybe we overestimated how many summer students we'd have. I theorize that one reason is our fucked-up summer term structure, different yet again from the summer before. We have one eight-week term and one six-week term, and that's it. There's no longer a "first half" and "second half," and I believe students can't take as many classes now.
Anyway, I'm cautiously optimistic Comp will make, and not at all that Am. Lit. will. The word from on high is not to worry comma yet.
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
Quotation time.
A meme-challenge borrowed from seabird78. My five quotes:
1. But pain... seems to me an insufficient reason not to embrace life. Being dead is quite painless. Pain, like time, is going to come on regardless. Question is, what glorious moments can you win from life in addition to the pain?
Lois McMaster Bujold, "Barrayar", 1991
2. The very purpose of existence is to reconcile the glowing opinion we have of ourselves with the appalling things that other people think about us.
Quentin Crisp
3. The road to hell is paved with adverbs.
Stephen King
4. It's never too late to be who you might have been.
George Eliot
5. The artist is a receptacle for emotions that come from all over the place: from the sky, from the earth, from a scrap of paper, from a passing shape...
Pablo Picasso
1. But pain... seems to me an insufficient reason not to embrace life. Being dead is quite painless. Pain, like time, is going to come on regardless. Question is, what glorious moments can you win from life in addition to the pain?
Lois McMaster Bujold, "Barrayar", 1991
2. The very purpose of existence is to reconcile the glowing opinion we have of ourselves with the appalling things that other people think about us.
Quentin Crisp
3. The road to hell is paved with adverbs.
Stephen King
4. It's never too late to be who you might have been.
George Eliot
5. The artist is a receptacle for emotions that come from all over the place: from the sky, from the earth, from a scrap of paper, from a passing shape...
Pablo Picasso
Sunday, June 1, 2008
The puzzling '08 Braves.
Sigh...another road loss today. At least it was more than a one-run margin! Who can explain such a disparity? As of today, 22-7 at home and 7-21 on the road. I would wager such a trend can't continue if they want to be in the thick of things.
A quick check of the standings shows the Braves aren't the only team with this strange Jekyll/Hyde trait. The Red Sox and Cubs also have been stellar at home but underwhelming on the road--almost night and day. One theory I've read is that a team uses its relief corps differently on the road; does that have to do with playing for a tie versus playing for a win?
Anyway, I'm stumped. At what point does it become a psychological obstacle for them? Has it become one already? My guess it's a combination of ill hitting, poor pitching, and uncharacteristically shoddy defense (witness the single through Chipper's legs the other night).
Hey, that's at least as good as John Kruk. Put me in a suit and get me to Bristol, CT.
A quick check of the standings shows the Braves aren't the only team with this strange Jekyll/Hyde trait. The Red Sox and Cubs also have been stellar at home but underwhelming on the road--almost night and day. One theory I've read is that a team uses its relief corps differently on the road; does that have to do with playing for a tie versus playing for a win?
Anyway, I'm stumped. At what point does it become a psychological obstacle for them? Has it become one already? My guess it's a combination of ill hitting, poor pitching, and uncharacteristically shoddy defense (witness the single through Chipper's legs the other night).
Hey, that's at least as good as John Kruk. Put me in a suit and get me to Bristol, CT.
Pigs and gators and rhinos, oh my (and a saber-toothed cat).
A quick shout-out (props? notes?) to this site, where Dad and I visited today. This is a big-time big deal and practically in our backyard--major archeological dig going on. They've dated the bones and fossils back to the Myocene,between 4 million and 7.5 million years ago, and there's enough here to dig for at least this century. Likely it was once the site of a lake or pond, and quite possibly a comfortable place for most species to have their babies. If I heard correctly, at least one new species has been discovered here, and several other quite rare species too.
This is one of those mind-blowers. To think that short-faced bears, tapirs (pig-like species), rhinos once traversed here--well, in the abstract, of course they did, but to have such evidence this close hammers it home.
So if you're in the east TN area, check it out. The dig site and permanent exhibit about the fossils and digging methods are the most interesting. There's also an exhibit on poop (I, um, shit you not) until September.
This is one of those mind-blowers. To think that short-faced bears, tapirs (pig-like species), rhinos once traversed here--well, in the abstract, of course they did, but to have such evidence this close hammers it home.
So if you're in the east TN area, check it out. The dig site and permanent exhibit about the fossils and digging methods are the most interesting. There's also an exhibit on poop (I, um, shit you not) until September.
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