Quick Entry for October 29, 2006

Received a comment: "Dude! B-) you need to blog baby! Missing everyone like mad these days" Guess that means I need to get typing again. :-)

Short version: Sister's Halloween party tonight. Bleh. Bought a new car last Tuesday. Yea! 2 tests, 2 papers, and a speech on Tuesday. Aack! I'll try to post more after that. :-D

(moved from old blog)

Comments:

Aibrean: I know what you mean, Becciae! I haven't blogged in awhile, but I just haven't had a topic worth expounding... here's HOPEing the spirit moves us! :-D

Moonie: yes! It worked! I just love reading the blogs, and sometimes the best ones are not on a topic at all.

Have fun at the party Beccaie!

Another Paper, anyone interested?

Well, it's that time again -- when I stare in astonishment at the last page of a paper I have written, wondering how on earth it received such a high grade. This one is about the Myth that Education (even public school education) Will Definitely Provide Success (read Money).

=========================================

Of the first five essays in the “Learning Power” chapter of Rereading America, John Taylor Gatto’s essay “The Seven-Lesson Schoolteacher” is the closest to truth as I experienced it in America’s school system during the late twentieth century.

Horace Mann’s “Report of the Massachusetts Board of Education, 1848” certainly bears many resemblances to today’s schools. After all, his “common schools” were the template for our school system. He had good ideas concerning the education of the masses. Unfortunately, he also had unrealistically high ideals. In the one hundred fifty-eight years since his report was written, human nature has definitely, defiantly reasserted itself.

Chronologically, we come next to Jean Anyon’s essay, “Social Class and the Hidden Curriculum of Work.” In some ways, for example in her desire for schooling of equal quality in all public schools, she is just as idealistic as Mann, though she does not tie her vision to Christianity as he does. Anyon is quite correct when she demonstrates that schools in different economic brackets provide different types of education to their students. However, my experience as a student does not support her divisions. For instance, my college prep parochial grade school used a blending of techniques from her Working Class and Middle Class schools. It was not so pessimistic as the Working Class schools concerning our future; we were expected to go on to college in due time. However, there were great similarities in the dictatorial authority figures. Her Middle Class schools were also familiar in several points. A number of my teachers were also consistently verbally, sometimes physically, abusive by today’s standards. Until I was in fifth grade, there were four teachers, including the principal, who still paddled students, which was unheard of by my friends who attended public schools. Until he retired, after my graduation, the principal would typically pick one or two unfavorites from each class, and pursue opportunities to smack them in the head with his theoretically uncontrollable “twitch.” The teaching methods and resources provided, or lacking, were also in concordance.

Mike Rose and Michael Moore both have a few points in common with my experience. However, Rose’s very personal story is so specific that nearly anyone’s high school career would differ significantly. Moore, on the other hand, tends to make sweeping, dramatic observations. His essay is certainly the most humorous and politically scathing. He seems to think that almost any problem in our schools can be solved by throwing government money at it – but only government money, no involvement by the business world if you please. If moremoney will really solve all of the system’s problems, why should schools reject any legal and legitimate source of funding? In addition, in his pursuit of humor, Moore actually gives students many ideas and suggestions for ways to disrupt and further diminish their educations, a very disappointing turn in an interesting piece of writing.

John Taylor Gatto’s essay was both the most disturbing and the most familiar to me. It is probably inevitable that this is so, as “The Seven Lesson Schoolteacher” was first published the same year I graduated from high school. Six of his seven lessons were taught in my schools, by nearly every teacher; the only one I do not vividly recall is confusion. Class position is so ingrained in me that it appeared in an immediate knee-jerk reaction when I returned to college, fourteen years after my last class. Indifference, emotional and intellectual dependence, provisional self-esteem, and the feeling that “one can’t hide” are such staples of my identity that it is surprising to find this possible cause of them. Surely they have been there since birth. So many of Gatto’s comments seem to be talking about me specifically. “…no work is worth finishing, so why care too deeply about anything?”1 “Successful students do the thinking I assign them…” I was surely a successful student, graduating first in my class from both eighth and twelfth grades. Perhaps the reason I do not recall lessons in confusion is because I was so “successful” that I never looked for meanings and connections beyond the subjects that were explicitly taught. Of course, I would prefer to believe that I was able to find those links for myself because I was more intelligent that most other students. Unfortunately, my assimilation of Lesson Six, Provisional Self-Esteem, makes such belief difficult. “Self evaluation … is never considered a factor” after all.

Clearly there are problems with America’s school system today. For one thing, the “common school” education envisioned by Mann and sporadically carried out today is no longer sufficient for many jobs and careers in the new global economy. The quality of schooling available for different economic classes is certainly unfair. There are so many problems that it seems the easiest course would be to scrap the whole system and import one that already works, from Japan, or Germany, or any of the other myriad countries that consistently beat us scholastically.

1 All quotes from “The Seven-Lesson Schoolteacher” by John Taylor Gatto, as reprinted in Rereading America, Colombo, © 2004

(moved from old blog)

Comments:

Estelina: Well done, Beccaie!

Bonnie: Of course you got a high grade... it's great!

It's a Little Odd

I'm taking another English class this semester, Composition II. I had class today, of course. I have every class on Tuesdays and Thursdays. We got back the rough drafts of our first paper, which we had turned in last Thursday. I wasn't completely satisfied with mine, but had run out of time to work on it. When planning my writing time for the week, I'd hadn't counted on starting a new job on Wednesday. At least it was typed, and it was over the minimum length. I consoled myself with the thought that "It's just the rough draft," and planned to comment/apologize when I turned it in for just how rough it was. I ended up not saying anything, because the majority of the class had made similar comments by the time I got to the professor's desk, and I didn't want to seem repetitive. I was entirely prepared for it to come back dripping with red ink.

But it didn't. For one thing, he grades in blue. More surprising were his comments on the last page. "Good paper; description. No rewrite necessary. On A track."

This used to happen to me in high school sometimes. I'd turn in a paper that I knew to be substandard, and I'd get it back with a flaming red A. And so my perpetual writing puzzles returns: Am I really that good, or does the professor just have no standards?"
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(the paper, if you're curious. It was on the myth of the normal family, i.e. 1950s, Leave It To Beaver, Father Knows Best, etc.)

The 1950s are a popular focus of nostalgia in today’s society. People seem divided into two camps. There are those who feel the tug of that nostalgia and revel in it. Then there is the group that may or may not feel that pull, but resist is with every ounce of reason they possess. Danielle Crittenden, in her persuasive essay, “About Marriage,” is clearly an example of the people who approve of the 1950s. Although she agrees that America couldn't return to that decade exactly as it was, and wouldn't want to, she argues that we could greatly improve the present by bringing back many of the attitudes and roles of that time. She blames feminists for the current height of the divorce rate, refusing to acknowledge that there might be a larger underlying reason. A modern
marriage, where both partners share equally in all aspects of bread-winning, home care, and parenting seems like science fiction, or even fantasy, to her. Crittenden suggests that 1950s society had the right idea with its gender-based division of labor. She does concede that women of today would not be willing to go back entirely. However, she posits that modern women wouldn't be stuck in the home, as trapped as flies stuck to gluey flypaper, as were the housewives and mothers of the stereotypical 1950s were. Today, women would be able to connect with the outside world through their computers, enabling them to take a part-time job, or work from home … once their children start school. Of course, their primary, perhaps their only, career would naturally be as a wife and mother.

In “What We Really Miss About the 1950s,” Stephanie Coontz takes a much more analytical look at that time. She finds good things there, lots of them. The work week was shorter. Jobs were more secure because corporations stayed in one place instead of moving about constantly, searching for the cheapest labor force. Houses were more affordable in the 1950s, and wages were rising quickly. College was an option for many, especially for returning and former members of the military, but good-paying jobs could be had without a degree. The minimum wage would support a family of three at a rate about the poverty level! Perhaps the most seductive trait of that decade was the hope that seemed prevalent. Coming out of the two terrible decades of the 1930s and 1940s, the future seemed very bright after 1950.

Coontz goes on. Unlike Crittenden, she is not content to stop with this sunny picture. She excavates just a small layer deeper, until the darker underside of this nostalgic ideal is exposed. Racism was rampant. Discrimination against minorities of any type was the norm. The “ideal” applied only to upper- and middle-class white families. Blacks, Latinos, recent immigrants, homosexuals, Jews and other non-Christians, political minorities, and women who did not conform were judged harshly and often. Jobs that could support them and their families were difficult, sometimes impossible, to come by. Race riots happened in nearly every major city. The communist witch hunts spearheaded by Senator Joseph McCarthy ran unchecked for a terribly long time.

Only one quarter of the marriages in the 1950s ended in divorce, but that is not necessarily an indicator of happiness. Many women and children were trapped in unhappy or abusive homes. They had no recourse, and no prospect of escape. Abused children were lucky in a way, or at least luckier than their mothers. The children would eventually grow up, and could then go out and find their own home, their own family. The wives were stuck. If they left, supporting themselves financially seemed an insurmountable task. Adding that to the knowledge we have today concerning the psychological effects of long-term abuse, there was no way out for them. A poor marriage choice in their late teens could, often did, haunt them for the rest of their lives. The advice given to wives and mothers by the popular media reinforced that they were important only for what they could do for others. Women must submit to their husbands and cater to every whim of these powerful beings. Mothers must give their children every opportunity for early independence. The nuclear family was celebrated, as long as it consisted of a father, mother, and minor children. Grandparents were allowed, but if they could not care for themselves, they were to be shunted off to a nursing home or other facility. Extended family didn't matter much. They might distract the wife and mother from her own family. Friends were even more strongly discouraged. A woman was a wife. If she was lucky, she was a mother. Anything else was a failure.

The 1950s might look attractive at first glance, but one need only watch a sitcom from that era, paying close attention, to begin to see deep and disturbing problems with the idyllic picture presented. Those who think we should return to it, even parts of it, must be looked at with cautious skepticism at the least. There were some good things about life in the 1950s. There are some good things now. No time in history has ever been completely ideal; no time ever will be. We must be careful that, in reaching for additional good points, we do not end up clutching the bad points as well.

(moved from old blog)

Comments:

Wiz: Guess you'll just have to accept it...you're a good writer!!!!!

Hugs,
Wiz

Frink: Gotta go with Wiz on this one: I really liked it! Well thought out.

Aibrean: Yep, I "third" that! Great job, Beccaie!
aubri

Me: I'm working on accepting it. It's just that I know I wrote this paper in about 1.5 hours, and finished it with practically no time to spare. I KNOW I didn't put much thought into it. Orginazation? HA! If I thought of something, I typed it, until I hit 3 pages. Figured I'd go back later to organize and otherwise polish it. I wonder what would happen if I really worked on a paper? lol

Have I told you all about the last paper I had to write in high school? It was for AP/Honors English, 10 pages. Mine was comparing _Hamlet_ and _Macbeth_. I got an A. I still haven't read Macbeth.

Aibrean: LOL! Beccaie... I remember those days as well! I often wonder if I'd gotten even better grades if I'd worked harder... then again, I might've OVER-thought it. Of course, there's a difference between carelessness and natural ability -- I think you just have to come to grips that you're a natural, baby! ;-)

Moonie: Great paper Beccaie! :)

Bonnie: Wonderful! Beccaie, you are a very good writer!

A Nicer, Less Melancholy Essay

Everyone seemed to like the last essay from Composition class that I posted, so here's another one. I got an A on this one, too, and it's a little happier. Also, it's set in Bayfield, WI, so if you like it, you'll want to be sure to come to that Moot. Whenever it ends up being. 2010? 2011? We'll see. (Just doing a little advanced publicity. :-) )

Waking was leisurely this morning, a rare treat. Up, dressed, ready to face the day, I open the blinds. The sun shines into the room, steadily, strongly, with determination. "It may be nearly winter," it seems to say, "but these are daylight hours, and daylight you shall have!" The light streams in, brightening the whole room and rendering lamps redundant. Today there is no danger that the sun will desert me to play hide and seek with the clouds.

I open the door and step onto the balcony, and a gentle wind wafts the brisk air towards me, fresh and clean, blown right off the lake. There is no fresher, better air than this, on the edge of a lake, surrounded by forests. I could stand here forever and revel in the scent, like a connoisseur who has finally found the perfect wine, but there is work to be done, and the wind is chill. I return to my room, but leave the screen door open in rebellion.

Pulling a table and chair to the window, I begin to sew. Beaded cross-stitch should be relaxing, but I have started late and am concerned that the project won't be done in time for Christmas. As I work, the sun shines in, cheerily encouraging. The wind puffs by to check on my progress. A glance out the window reveals two islands floating contentedly on the lake. The have been there for centuries and have no plans to move. Peace returns to my soul. I pause for a moment to glory in my solitude, rejoicing in the lack of family chaos, or even plans with friends. My worries flee as the waves and cormorants call in the distance, reminding me that this, this is paradise found.

After several hours of communing and conversing with nature, diligently sewing all the while, I take a break. I fix brunch, or lunch, or afternoon tea -- some sort of meal; the title matters little. I turn on the TV for a bit and find a channel running a marathon of a favorite show. This quiet familiarity nurtures the peace and calm that nature planted earlier.

The light begins to fade. Betrayed, I look up to find the sun, but quickly realize that it is setting. A magnificent array of colors on the horizon apologizes for the sun's unwelcome departure. To compensate, the wind picks up, but the temperature has dropped with the sun. Regretfully, I begin to close up for the night. The marathon ends. Clearly the world thinks I should go to bed, and I do so. But I lie awake for a long time, savoring the dregs of my best Thanksgiving ever.

(moved from old blog)

Comments:

Wiz: Oh Beccaie!!! I love it!!!!
Hugs to ya!
Wiz

Bonnie: Wow Beccaie. That is awesome. Great job!

Frink: What a delightful way to spend a holiday. I'd be thankful, that's for sure!!

Aibrean: I feel like I was right there with you! Looking forward to that future-moot! :-)

Essay for Composition Class. Opinions Please?

Okay, this is an essay I wrote for my Composition class. I was a little surprised by the positive response it got from my classmates and prof, regarding the quality of the writing at least, if not the subject matter. Nothing like a depressing essay to start off the school day, right?

Since there are several good writers on my Yahoo! friends list, I thought I'd ask what you guys think. Warning: It is, or can be, rather depressing. Feel free to skip it. So without further ado...

It often seems my life could be measured in funerals. True, most people use birthdays to gauge the passage of time. Some move a lot and so tie milestones to where they were living. Many children date important events in their lives by their grade in school at the time. However, the most prominent meter, to me, is death.

The first funeral I remember took place when I was six. It wasn't the first I had attended, of course; we were burying the last of my grandparents. Vague confusion shrouds those events, becoming my most indelible memory of that time. There was a lot of "playing quietly" on the floor of various rooms: a hospital waiting room; an elderly neighbor's living room; a quiet, dim office; more waiting rooms. Seemingly pointless meanderings occupied more of our time. The tradition of "near family" marching in and out of the chapel three times in one service may never make any sense to me. Surely there was a floral arrangement "from the grandchildren," but I – the oldest grandchild – don't even recall flowers.

The next major funeral in my life occurred ten years later, upon the death of my father. Any lingering questions or puzzles were solved on this round, as I was one of the major planners of this event – no playing quietly this time. Many waiting rooms still held me captive at times, but they weren't so anonymous. I always knew exactly where I was, and why I was there. Escape was also possible, though typically the only place to which I could escape was another room in the hospital. Several different hospitals became familiar places, as death took much longer to arrive this time, loitering elsewhere for years before deigning to make an appearance.

Once at the funeral home, no waiting occurred at all. The funeral director, spray-starched and obsequious, attended to us immediately. We toured the public rooms of the building, discussing options along the way. Would the red room be best, or perhaps the gold? Silly questions, bereft of any deeper meaning. Obituaries were planned and placed, although I believe the director was disappointed in our choices. A casket was chosen. Hymns were discussed, a quiet irony, as my father never sang. Flowers were planned, although vegetables might have been more appropriate, given his preferences in gardening.

Then it was onward to the planning of the service itself, the order and logistics. Pointless peregrinations were promptly prohibited; no wandering about for this family. We all know the casket is going to be closed. Frankly, it would be a bit more disturbing if it was buried open! Our firmness on this point occasioned more discreet disapproval from the funeral director. Females are supposed to leave the chapel, lest they faint at the sight of the lid shutting. Strong-minded, strong-willed, strong-stomached women were obviously not covered in his Funeral Directors’ Manual. Likewise, our decision to use our own car in the procession shocked him. No limo? How can this be? In the end, this break in tradition was only allowed when we agreed to find a driver who was not part of the immediate family. Again, females must be too distraught to drive.

There have been many more funerals over the years: aunts and uncles who took the place of grandparents in my life; cousins; some friends. None impinged on my life so closely as those detailed above. More are sure to follow, even after I leave school, find a permanent home, stop counting birthdays, and I will continue to date events by them. "Oh, that was the year my grandmother died."

(moved from old blog)

Comments:

Wiz: From a non-writer's perspective, well done. I could see myself at the places you mentioned. A somewhat bewildered child, just doing as she was told. Yet as the adult, taking control of the situation.

No surprise to me on the positive response at school...

Hugs to ya!

Aibrean: Beccaie, it is a very good essay. I particularly liked your "P" alliteration in that one sentence! I find it melancholy, sad even, but it did not depress me. There is much said here, if subtly, about the turnings of Life. If you ever need to expand on it, I think you have several good ways to go with it. I give it a resounding "A!" :-)

Great job!
Hugs too!
lisabelle

Rayna: Oh Becc....I thought it was just wonderful, in a bittersweet way...I love to read about self discovery and self proclomation. You measure by funerals....I think it's a very sensitive way to look at things, and it is very much the Mini-Moot Mobile driver that I know...you view the passage of time with the passage of souls, which is an insight into the level of caring you have for the people around you. Delightfully well written, wonderful flow, you should be proud and you better get a good grade!

Me: Thanks for the input guys (gals?). Sorry it's taken me so long to respond. I got the paper back today, and I did get an A. :D Now if I can just do that well on the final... I took it this morning, but I don't have a good feel for how I did on it. Hate that. But the grades will be posted on Thursday, so there's not _too_ much waiting.

Frink: Not surprised you got an 'A' on this, Beccaie! Your description of the funeral director was spot on. Brought back a similar time in my life -- great job!

Halfway There

Well, I've made it to the end of Week 4 of Summer Session A. (It's only the end of Week 2 in Summer B.) Both summer sessions are only 8 weeks long, so there's not too much farther to go. In a way that's good, and in another way it's really strange.

I think I overloaded myself a bit this semester, so I will be glad when Session A is done and I only have my math class for the last 2 weeks of Session B. On the other hand, so far we've only had 1 exam and 1 lab practical in biology. According to the syllabus, we're going to have 3 exams, plus the final, and 2 lab practicals. That's a lot of tests to squeeze into the second half of the term! It's the same thing in composition. I don't know how many worksheets and little paragraphs we're going to have, but there are supposed to be 4 papers, and we've only done one.

So if I disappear entirely during July, just look under that big pile of books in the corner.

(moved from old blog)

Comments:

Wiz: Wow, you do have a load this summer. However, we all KNOW you'll do great!!!!
hugs,
Wiz

Aibrean: Hear, hear! Wiz speaks the truth! You're doing an awesome job, Beccaie, and we're all so proud of you! aubri

AmyGaladriel: Beccaie, I am so excited for you! I know you will do GREAT!!
Love, ya!
Amy

Random Oddness

I just flipped my day-by-day calendar (LOTR, Trilogy). Today is a picture of one of Gandalf's bigger fireworks. The oddness comes in because this morning the news was closely following a big fire in an (possibly illegal, they weren't sure) fireworks store/warehouse just over the state border.

PSA: If you must set off fireworks yourself, BE CAREFUL!!!

(moved from old blog)

Comments:

Aibrean: Ooh! I heard about that on the news!

They've recently changed the law down here so that Hoosiers can actually set off fireworks -- it'll be interesting to see if that affects the number of accidents around July 4th! :-p
aubri

Biology Class

Was biology class always this interesting? Most of what I remember from it in high school was not being able to see through the microscope, and the teacher, Mr. Young, who was anything but. He'd taught both of my parents biology when they were in high school. He stuck around long enough to teach my younger sister, and then retired. He was ... how to put this politely ... quite a character. He was fun, in some ways, and just out-and-out weird in others. I don't know if he'd ever had much enthusiasm for biology, or if he'd just learned that it was a waste of effort to be excited about science when teaching in a high school, but the classes don't stand out in my mind much at all.

My biology professor right now is quite different. She specializes in botany, but really brings a level of enthusiasm to the class that I have never connected with science. She teaches here part-time, and works part-time as a botonist at the Field Museum of Natural History, downtown. She found out yesterday that her grant, which she's "been working towards all [her] life," has been approved. She's funded for 3 years of botanical studies in the Himalayan Mountains, mostly in China. She's just about over the moon. It's really fun to watch. Today a couple of us brought "congratulations" cards for her, and she got positively giddy. "It's better than Christmas!" was one of her comments.

I can't imagine Mr. Young getting that excited about anything.

One downside, at least for future biology students, is that she'll no longer be teaching. This is the second really great professor I've had who will no longer be teaching after August. It's kind of sad, but as long as I can keep getting the good ones before they leave, I guess I'll be all right.

(moved from old blog)

Comments:

Aibrean: That's pretty exciting, Beccaie! I'm glad you got to have her as a prof before she left!!

Rayna: Becc...in case I have failed to let you know...I am so very proud of you for going back to school and working so hard. I just know that you are bound for bigger and better things!

Me: *blush* Thanks Rayna. It was really scary to go back, but now that I'm actually in classes, I'm pretty much loving it. And yep, it is pretty exciting, Lisa. I'll have to remember to Google her in a couple of years and see what's going on with it.

School Stuff

I'm used to doing well in school. Last semester I got straight A's with little effort. I may have a heavy courseload for this 8-week (accelerated) session, but I am reasonably confident that I will be able to do well.

One of my courses is "Using Computers." No, not very challenging, but it's required for my degree. I'm taking it as independent study, since I'm reasonably well versed in computer use already. When I turn in homework, it is mailed back to me. (So far I've got 136.5 out of 128, with extra credit included.) I took my first test on Wednesday, and just received the results in the mail today. There's a comment on the score sheet: "The highest score ever recorded for this exam. Congratulations!" And I got 1 wrong. That seems very strange. And a little bit disturbing. The class has been around for years. NO ONE ever got a perfect score?

(moved from old blog)

Poll

Just out of curiosity, would anyone ever consider a major moot date during May - September? I'd love to bring everyone to Bayfield, WI, but March and April are not options in that climate. Thanks!

Major Moot during May - September?
No: 0 votes
Yes: 6 votes

(moved from old blog)

Comments:

Frink: I've always wanted to see that area of the country. Could we bring family? Great idea, Bec!

Me: Whoops! Didn't even realize there was a place for comments until I saw Rayna's blog. Sorry for the tardy response.

Yep, families would definitely be possible if you want. The place I would like us to stay is an old-style motel (It's a VERY small town!), and only allows groups to reserve 10 rooms (4 of which are practically small houses). So if you want to bring family, you will probably have to reserve your own room, in addition to the group's rooms. And this place books up fast, often a year in advance. And they require a deposit. But if you can work with those circumstances, there's another 20 rooms or so that should be available. Yep, the 30-room motel is the biggest in town. :-)

Me: Oops. They have 32 rooms. ;-)

If you're interested:

Motel -- http://www.seagullbay.com/

Town -- http://www.bayfield.org/

Popular restaurants, a 10 minute walk or 3 minute drive from the motel --
http://www.eggtoss-bayfield.com/ (breakfast & bakery)
www.maggies-bayfield.com (lunch & dinner, and VERY pink)

A fancier, more expensive restaurant, but still easy driving distance -
http://www.wildricerestaurant.com/ (dinner only)

Bayfield is the home of the Apostle Islands National Lakeshore (run by the National Park Service). I'd love for us to take a cruise around the islands on Saturday, as our group activity. If everyone is okay with boats.
Cruise Service -- http://www.apostleisland.com/
National Lakeshore -- www.nps.gov/apis/index.htm

No, I haven't put any thought into this. Why do you ask? ;-)

AmyGaladriel: This is sad. I live in Wisconsin and I have never been up that far! I even used to live in Upper Michigan for a couple of years. My mom and dad vacationed way up there. There is a beautiful bed and breakfast there that I'd like to go to with Bob sometime.

Me: Well next time I'm going, I'll just have to stop in Fond du Lac and kidnap you. ;-)

June 04, 2006

Well, I should be studying biology. I've only got 8 chapters to read by Thursday. But setting up my Yahoo 360 page is so much more interesting.

(moved from old blog)