Upward Bound tutoring sets the stage for joining the ranks of college faculty
Author Daniel Quinn interprets the institution of schooling through the eyes of the ape Ishmael.
Ishmael speaking to his protege Julie:
Mother Culture's deception here is that schools exist to serve the needs of people. In fact, they exist to serve the needs of your economy. The schools turn out graduates who can't live without jobs but who have no job skills, and this suits your economic needs perfectly.
Julie speculating on why schools don't turn out graduates with all the skills needed to survive and be self-sufficient:
What would happen if we turned out a class of new and improved students with a hundred-percent survival value? The first thing I thought of is that they'd go for jobs as wilderness guides or something. But that's completely stupid. The point is, if they had a hundred-percent survival value, they wouldn't need jobs at all. Locking up the food wouldn't keep them in the prison. They'd be out. They'd be free! Of course a few of them would still elect to stay behind-but that would be a matter of choice. I'll bet half would stay [inside the Taker prison]. Even if half stayed, the door would be open. People would come pouring out. A lot would stay in, but a lot would come out.
Ishmael: You mean that, for a lot of you, getting a job and working until retirement age doesn't look like heaven. So now you know why your schools turn out graduates with no survival value.
Julie: Since [graduates] don't have any survival value, they're forced to enter the Taker economy. Even if they'd rather opt out of that economy, they can't.
Ishmael: Once again, the essential point to note is that, for all your complaining, your schools are doing just what you actually want them to do, which is to produce workers who have no choice but to enter your economic system, presorted into various grades.
On this last day before my trip to Austin for Katherine's wedding, I've crammed into my schedule a handful of errands that couldn't wait until I got back. In the morning I completed another baking project, wrapping up a loaf of whole wheat bread that I plan to give to Katherine and Brian. I also watched a couple episodes of the X-Files, bringing me that much closer to the end of season 4 so I won't have to return the library's DVDs without having seen the final cliffhanging episodes. Also on loan from the library is Chaim Potok's novel The Gift of Asher Lev, which, being viewable without modern electronics, I opted to finish during the ample free time I knew I'd have at tutoring this afternoon.
The Upward Bound study hall at Einstein High School continues to suffer from low turnout. Alex showed up as usual, but not many other kids did, and especially not the seniors. My services not being in high demand, I sat to the side and finished the closing chapters of The Gift of Asher Lev.
Leaving tutoring early in order to meet Dan about subletting a room on Adelphi Road, I took a quick detour to the Wheaton library to drop off The Gift of Asher Lev. I ended up arriving earlier than expected at the house on Adelphi Road, so I killed some time by calling the UMD president's legal office to pester them about scheduling a hearing to regain access to campus resources.
At 17:00 I rang the doorbell at the house. The door was opened by Eric Spears, who was himself subletting Dan's room but only until the end of the semester. Dan arrived in his car a few minutes later.
Dan seemed pleasantly surprised at recognizing me from a previous context; it turned out he had volunteered at the food co-op when I was working there, and he still kept in touch with Plamen Kovatchev, a former supervolunteer from the same co-op era. I listened with curiosity to Dan's news about how the co-op was currently faring while Dan showed me around the house.
In contrast to the Limestone Place house where I rented last summer, the house Dan showed me had its cramped washer/dryer/kitchen room on the ground floor, with a more spacious kitchen in the basement. Luckily the room I would be renting was on the same floor as the washing machine, so I could line-dry my clothes in my room without having to carry heavy wet fabrics up and down the stairs.
Hearing me express my interest in renting the room, Dan conferred with the landlord, Steve Zannoni, and got permission to have me sign a lease and write a check right then and there. Dan said he would make a photocopy of the lease and leave it with the house key in a bag I could pick up after returning from the wedding in Austin. He gave me a cell phone number of the current subletter, Eric Spears, so I could coordinate the move-in schedule once I got back from Austin.
Psychologist Barry Schwartz on letting the perfect be the enemy of the good:
Research shows that people get more satisfaction from working hard at one thing; and that those who always need to have choices and keep their options open get left behind. I'm not saying don't let your kid try out various interests or activities. I'm saying give them choices, but within reason. Most parents tell kids, "You can do anything you want, you can quit any time, you can try this other thing if you're not 100 percent satisfied with the other." It's no wonder they live their lives that way as adults, too. [Some Strathmore graduates] can't bear the thought that saying yes to one interest or opportunity means saying no to everything else, so they spend years hoping that the perfect answer will emerge. What they don't understand is that they're looking for the perfect answer when they should be looking for the good-enough answer.
-- quoted by Lori Gottlieb in How to Land Your Kid in Therapy.
Advice on the First Day of Classes
From Mark Sherman:
There will be plenty of time to learn actual mathematics in subsequent classes. Why not use the first day to let the students learn about you (their teacher) and each other (their peers) through informal socializing (e.g., dancing or sharing a meal)?
From Warren Phenegar:
Get the students to see you as an interesting character, one whose quirks and life story invite spending further time with you. The interest they express in you as a person will hopefully transfer to the subject matter you teach.
From the Chronicle of Higher Education:
Dress in the most formal attire you ever plan on wearing that semester.
Be yourself: students will see right through any attempt to display inauthentic personality traits.
Finally, communicate at least three essential pieces of information that students are desperate to know (but avoid robotically reading through the syllabus line-by-line):
On this date twelve years ago I was awkwardly adjusting to the rhythms of an unfamiliar campus - Oklahoma State University - in an unfamiliar part of the country, where I knew nobody and had basically no clue what I was doing.
On this date ten years ago I was gradually adjusting to life in an unfamiliar city, where the only continuity with what had come before was mediated by the Straight Dope Message Board.
On this date seven years ago I was eagerly awaiting the chance to leave 8322 Potomac Ave. and move into the group house on Fox St.
On this date four years ago I was preparing to defend my dissertation after only two years of work in the field.
On this date three years ago I was trying to live off the grid to save rent money while paid work was scarce.
On this date two years ago I was adjusting to a new short-term home after being forced out of the agreeable rental arrangement with Andrew and Matt in the Paragon apartment complex, Takoma Park.
On this date one year ago I had just made an offer to buy a house, and the Emerson school year was winding down with Honors Calculus presentations and movies in Math of Games.
Today I took my bike on the Capital Crescent Trail to Bethesda, where the rear wheel went flat. I jogged the bike back as far as Ray's Meadow Park, where I left it for tomorrow after the game of ultimate.
Lessons from week 1 of MA 097
what worked:
what flopped:
Improvements for subsequent weeks:
1. get new dry erase markers
2. adjust brightness/contrast of the projector
3. assign worksheets in each class
4. cut back on slides/lecturing
"Perfection is attained, not when nothing more can be added, but when nothing more can be taken away."
Emptying out my on-campus office can be accomplished in less than three days! (depending on the distance that boxes have to be carried, as well as the weather and prior engagements)
Day 1: all the textbooks (three trips), plus some folders and fabric (one trip)
Day 2: external hard drive, blank optical media, laser printer, some 3-ring binders
Day 3: rest of the folders and binders (three trips), shoes, rope, and toaster (one trip)
As to why I felt compelled to empty out my office? The facilities department changed locks earlier this summer, before giving new keys to the office occupants. Dr. Kagabo and I came to work one morning (when he was actually scheduled to teach classes), and we had to wait for a facilities worker to come by with a new key.
Frustrated at the lack of communication that led to this lock-out, I considered abandoning my office and just telling students to meet me at my house, where one of the empty rooms could easily serve as a work space. Having all my books and papers in one central location (or two if you count the backpack I carry with me into the classroom), I would hardly need to devote mental energy to remembering which office or which hard drive contained a needed document. Plus I'd be able to take two bulky lumps of metal off my keyring, making it that much more streamlined to fish around for the right key when I get home after dark.
A rainy start to this morning left us with fields too muddy for ultimate, but I only discovered how wet it was after venturing several blocks from home in an effort to retain some semblance of regularity in my weekend workout routine. I ended up running along Sligo Creek Parkway from Domer Ave to Maple Ave, then walking briskly the rest of the way back to the house.
Yesterday's ultimate game provided longer and more varied exercise, but also its share of disappointment. Even without the help of the rain, the cold air on its own was enough to diminish the responsiveness of my finger muscles, and I must have fumbled at least four passes that on warmer days almost certainly would have been caught. Perhaps I was too quick to follow the example of hardier souls who went onto the field with ungloved hands. Just because their circulation is fine in these frigid temperatures is no reason to ignore the quirks of my own body.
This afternoon I watched the third installment of the Anne of Green Gables miniseries, borrowed almost two weeks ago from the PG county library. While the first movie invited the audience to identify with the childish dreams and motives of its 12- to 16-year-old heroine, the second and third movies featured more adult situations, such as navigating the insular politics of a small town, earning the respect of a frosty boss, and caring for the injured and grieving families in a nation at war. I related more easily to the latter two installments of the trilogy, even though my current stage of life doesn't raise any dilemmas about starting a family or volunteering for a war effort. The first film did help to set the scene and define for viewers the pastoral landscape that would serve as an anchor for the grown-up Anne and her friends. The director made a smart choice to close the films with an early-evening shot of the Avonlea meadows, easily the most poignant image of unhurried country life and a stirring reminder of what the protagonists give up when they pursue further studies, literary fame, or the honor of serving their country in wartime.
Sharing in Mom's and Aunt Mary's summer vacations