Crud!

Carp, it was Friday yesterday, wasn't it? This weekend has been consumed by flailing and studying for finals, so I didn't notice. Regular blogging will resume next Tuesday.

(Smiley snagged from TSR.)

Late addition: A friend Tweeted this link, and I thought it was a very interesting e-mail discussion between two guys who have been friends for years. They're talking about gay marriage: why one guy has a problem with it, and why the other one thinks that he shouldn't. (Shouldn't have a problem with it. Was that clear? My brain is dead from studying.) Both of them remain calm and respectful of the other throughout the whole thing, which is amazing to me, given how my discussions with my sister have gone. Maybe she just needs to get an e-mail address so we can communicate that way?

Fear

Fear: (n) 1. a distressing emotion aroused by impending danger, evil, pain, etc., whether the threat is real or imagined; the feeling or condition of being afraid.
(from dictionary.com)

There are more definitions, of course, but this one fits pretty well. I am afraid. In general, I don't show fear, for pretty much the same reasons that I don't cry in front of people. In fact, there have been 2 occasions in the past 10-plus years when I have shown fear in front of my family. Both of them are still talked about.

One of them involved a very large spider that jumped out of a drain in an infrequently used sink while I had my glasses off. Now, I'm blind as a bat without my glasses. 12 point font is too blurry to be read at 10 to 13 inches from my eyes (depending on which eye I'm using -- my right eye is worse). Without my glasses on, I could clearly see this spider posturing, see the aggressive positioning of its forelegs and the movement of its chelicerae (mandibles in non-spiders. Yes, I looked it up.). Freaked me the hell out, because I'm really, really not a fan of spiders near me. They're fine away from me, killing bugs and all that. Just not if I can see them.

I yelped. My sister and the dog we were dog-sitting both came to see what was going on, and my sister wouldn't get within 6 feet of the sink because she could see the size of the spider and wasn't getting near it. Neither was the dog, but she's a known chicken. I put my glasses back on and dealt with it, although my sister urged me to just shut the door and stuff a towel under it until the dog's owners got home in a few days. (My sister and Phil Jupitus have a bit in common there -- the relevant bit about his living room runs from about 4:30 to 5:00, although the whole thing is funny. There are 3 parts to it, and I highly recommend them all if you have some time, although you'll need about 25 minutes.)

The other time involved school and applying to the HIT program. I think the problem that time was that, if I wasn't accepted, I had no idea what on earth I was going to do. This one doesn't get laughed about when it's brought up. I don't say much of anything, and my mom and sister look at me out of the corner of their eyes and then at each other with a "What the hell's wrong with her" sort of expression. Good times.

Right now, I'm afraid of this winter. I don't usually feel this bad until the middle of January at the earliest, and I've been fighting it since early November. I can't quite imagine what February's going to be like. And I think that I probably don't want to know.

Part of the problem, I'm sure, is that school is not going well, and I don't really expect to be allowed to remain in the HIT program after this semester. This means, of course, that once again I have no idea what on earth I'm going to do. I don't think I could manage a full-time job right now. There's no guarantee that I could find one, even if I could handle it. And yet, my mom's 65. She wants to retire next spring. I know that the fact that I'm not working makes her worry about retiring. In school, with decent job prospects when I complete the program, I think she probably would have risked it, since I'd be working within a year or so of her retirement. But if I'm not working, if I can't? I just don't know.

I'm sure I sound like a broken record here, but I really think this all goes back to the pneumonia in 2007. Before that, I could work. I could walk at least half a mile at one go, although it wasn't much fun. I believed that things would work out, that I'd get accepted to the programs I was planning to apply to, that I'd find work after I graduated, that said work would allow me to get my own place. Now, I don't think I can work, I can't walk, and I really don't believe such pipedreams. Maybe the antibiotics shouldn't have worked. Maybe I was supposed to die then. It sure as hell would have been easier, since I was so sick that I didn't understand how sick I was, so oxygen-deprived that I couldn't comprehend the danger I was in.

I almost wish I'd get H1N1 or something. Some real disease that sometimes kills people. Then I could die without it being my fault.

Question 19

19) If I could travel anywhere, where would I go?
a) New Zealand
b) Canada
c) Washington
d) Wisconsin
e) Iowa

My HIT professor is praying for me. I don't know if I can quite express how odd that seems. You all know that I can't walk well, so it should come as no surprise that our field trips, with their associated walking, standing about, and note-taking-while-on-the-move were significant challenges for me. I've also been dealing with a Depression-Induced Lack of Motivation[TM] lately, which has extended to class attendance and even completion of some assignments. I managed to drag myself to my HIT class last Wednesday because we were scheduled to have an exam. Even though I was going to be guessing on every question, because this last unit has been entirely based on handouts and lectures, not anything in our textbook. As it turned out, the guest speaker went a bit long, so the test was postponned until tomorrow. (It's a 2 hour and 20 minute class, but the exams take a maximum of 1 hour, so there's always something else scheduled for exam days as well.)

At any rate, after class on Wednesday, my professor gave me all of the handouts and asked what was going on. I mumbled something about my lung damage and stuff. Said that I know it doesn't look like it, but I really am trying. She said that she knew, she could see that. (I don't really understand that part either.) She kept waiting expectantly, and I ended up muttering something about my depression, said that was exacerbating my other problems. She kind of focused in on the depression aspect of things, taking it more seriously than some of my (past) psychologists have done. She was very concerned that I don't have anyone to really talk to about it (since my family is ... religious ... about it, and I'm really, really not), and she asked if it would be okay if she prayed for me. (Is there a polite way to say, "Sure, if you want, I guess, but you're kind of weirding me out here?" I've never found one.)

I think part of the startle-factor about it was that it's a secular school. If I was still going to one of the Lutheran schools I've attended in the past, I'd have been expecting that kind of reaction. And I know that just because it's not a religious school doesn't mean that none of the professors are religious. I do get that. I just really wasn't expecting that reaction. And I wasn't expecting her to be concerned. Very odd. It's been on my mind enough since then that I'm getting a little worried about tomorrow, and if it will be weird to see her again. (I am going to class though. There's an exam. One that I can even study for, now.)

Also? The director of the HIT program walked by us as the professor and I were walking out together. She's also been worried about me, and said she was glad to see me there. Maybe I've just worked for uncaring corporations for so long that human concern is baffling? I dunno.

I have done some knitting this week. In fact, I've finished 3.5 socks, and I'm almost done with the yarn from Warm Woolies that I'm using for the socks. Then I'll just have the sweater yarn left to knit up. Pictures next week, okay?

Answer to Question 19: Iowa. Canada and New Zealand are too far away. Well, most places are too far away for me these days. I've been to Washington (to see ArwensRose and Pansy and their homes/towns/city), but not to Iowa (to see Deenie and hers), so Iowa's my choice. Besides, it's just barely possible that I could actually go there someday. Wisconsin... I love Wisconsin, especially the Northwoods. I first went up to our family's cabin when I was 6 months old, and even though our current cabin is on my grandparents' land and not my dad's (because the lake by their property is both bigger and more accessible from our land), regardless of the fact that the cabin that's now there wasn't built until I was 5 or 6, the land and that lake are the home of my heart.

That said, I don't think I'll ever go back up there. The cabin just isn't accessible enough for me now. It would be hard to manage the steps down from the "parking lot," as we call the end of our road under the trees. I can't sleep on a bed without a lot of pain, and the chairs there are old and don't recline, so my dependent edema would get too bad if I tried to sleep in them. The shower stall is so tiny that I probably couldn't use it, since I wouldn't be able to sit down halfway through. And the hill is far too steep for me to be able to walk down to the lake, even if we still had a boat there that was licensed to go out on it.

Another problem is the political views of the people in the area. I used to dream about living up there, winterizing the cabin (or more likely building a small house in its place). Getting a job somewhere near enough to make winter commuting practical. But the area is very, very conservative, and realistically I couldn't live with that. When my mom and sister were up there this fall, they attended a community meeting about the area's elk population. Given what they've said about that, it's a good thing I wasn't there because my head might have exploded from the pressure of keeping my mouth shut. Then again, I wouldn't have gone to the meeting in the first place. But I have trouble looking past people's political views sometimes. I can't quite decide if I'm getting more intolerant, or if it's just that I'm noticing the political views of people I used to be completely neutral about. I can get past political stuff with friends, but if an otherwise benign stranger has political views that I vehemently disagree with, there's just not enough positive force there to keep my feelings about them at neutral. (If that even makes sense to anyone else.)

And then I remember my dad's last trip up there. It was about a month before he died, maybe 5 or 6 weeks. He knew he'd never see it again, and it was so hard for him to leave. Maybe I just don't want to do that myself. As things stand now, I have lots and lots of memories from up there, but I don't remember exactly what happened the last time I left. Realistically, I know that the last time I was up there was the time that my sister and I took three days and rented a U-Haul to bring my grandma's dining room set back down here so my sister could use it. I imagine that, when we locked up the cabin that time and I climbed into my car, I was just so relieved to be able to sit down and stop manhandling furniture up the slope and into the truck. But that's all reasoned out, not vivid memory. And I don't want my final memory of there to be fighting tears as I drive up the road, knowing my heart will never go home again.

These questions are coming from my 'How well do you know Beccaie Jamieson?' quiz on Facebook. Thus far, the high scores are 35% among my friends, 40% among my sister's friends, 41% for my mother, with my sister scoring 74%. I'm bringing the questions to my blog in the hopes that some more people will get to know me better.

Question 17

17) What city was I born in? (Kindly ignore the bad grammar.)
a) Clam Lake, WI
b) Addison, IL
c) Melrose Park, IL
d) Elmhurst, IL
e) Hayward, WI

I have a knitting photo! Are you as excited as I am?

This is the front of the Warm Woolies Mystery Knitalong Sweater I. I still have to finish the neck shaping. The back is done up to the armholes, but since it was knitted in the round, you can't see it in this photo.

Nothing much has happened this week. I had a lot of homework last weekend (which I'd had a few weeks to accomplish, but it wasn't due until Monday), and then I had a paper & presentation due in HIT on Wednesday. I haven't had to do a speech for a while, and if I need to do another one, I'm going to have to get permission to be seated during it, because I was really having trouble getting enough air towards the end. I hate looking like I don't know what I'm doing, and I'm sure that I did. However, there's no way to change it now, and I didn't realize that it would be a problem before I began, so whatever. Other than that, I think it went pretty well.

It's been raining a lot here this week. Not huge amounts of water, with all the associated flooding concerns, but just days of slow and steady rain. Luckily it's been on days when I could stay home, so I've been able to enjoy it without worrying about losing my footing. I've also finished reading all of the archives over at QueerJoe's blog. I'm working on James' blog now. He lives in New Zealand, and some of his photos are excellent proof that WETA didn't do too much to the scenery in LOTR.

And that's it for this week. Not much blather, since I've got 2 exams this week. I should probably get back to studying.

Answer to Question 17: Elmhurst, IL. I've lived almost my entire life in Addison, but the nearest hospital is in Elmhurst. Melrose Park is where my mom's family lived, and where I went to high school. Clam Lake is the nearest town to my family's cabin in northern Wisconsin. Hayward is the nearest town with a hospital. I suppose that this question was skewed a bit towards local friends, but I didn't have any local friends on Facebook when I initially wrote the quiz.

Question 14

14) I am a good liar.
a) True
b) False

I think I'm going to start doing my blog posts on Fridays. I mean officially. I thought that Thursday would still be okay, since I don't have classes. However, my classes on Wednesday go for long enough that I'm usually a bit (or more than a bit) wiped out, and then I spend most of Thursday recovering and not thinking too much. So Friday it is. At least until these next 23 class days are done.

Hmmm? What's that? I wasn't counting down, you say? Well, tough. I am now. I was going to count down by weeks, but because of the way some days off fall, that makes it sound worse (12 weeks, plus finals) than it really is (23 classes, plus finals). Okay, not much worse, but still worse.

This Wednesday, my afternoon class (HIT - Health Info Technology) was as bad as my A&P class, and that's saying something. We were supposed to have a computer-based lab, and getting proper access set up for all 15 students (the prof never did get her own set up) took the first 1.5 hours of the class. Not the prof's fault, since apparently someone on the IT end at the service that hosts the labs didn't get the permissions set up properly. However, it was still really annoying. That's also the class that we had a test in on Monday. When we got to the lab, we were told that we'd have to retake the test this coming Monday because there'd been 2 Question 24s on the test, and someone had (against the prof's instructions) answered them both, throwing off all the rest of their answers, etc. The usual ScanTron problem. I was appalled, but most of the class seemed excited by the prospect of improving their scores. I guess I was one of the few who was satisfied to start with. But then the prof decided to just drop that test from the possible points for the course. I guess that's marginally better than having to retake the test, but I'm still a bit irked. All that studying for nothing. Oh well.

A&P was just its usual frustrating self, complete with Doritos chick fondling her Doritos bag. I promise you, that's the most innocuous word for her actions that I can possibly come up with. She reminds me a bit of Dr. Evil stroking his cat. But louder. And more annoying.

My computer class remains my favorite of this semester. That's probably due in large part to the fact that it's online, so I never have to meet my classmates. I really expected to be frustrated by this class more than by the others, since this is one of those required-for-my-degree classes that covers really boring stuff. In fact, part of one of our assignments was to write an introduction including our reason for taking the class, and every single one of us is taking it because it's required for some degree or another. Not one person mentioned anything about being interested in the subject matter. But it's my favorite class at this point. *rolls eyes*

In non-school whining, I had my 6-month check-up this week, and got a flu shot. Apparently I was also due for a tetanus booster. The appointment was on Tuesday. There's still a lump on my arm, and it's still rating somewhere between sore and outright painful. Stupid tetanus.

Trying to move away from whining altogether, my mom and sister got home from vacation last Sunday. They brought all kinds of northern Wisconsin goodies with them: bran muffins, cashew turtles and brittle from a wonderful candy shop, cheese, sausage, etc. I asked my sister to bring me some soap from Gitchee Gumee Soap Company in Bayfield, but she hasn't given me any. I hope she's just saving it for Christmas.

No knitting pictures because no knitting has been accomplished. I really need to find a way to study and knit at the same time, since I've got a lot of yarn to knit up for Warm Woolies by the end of November. And, of course, November is NaNoWriMo, so I'd really like to finish the knitting before it starts.

Answer to Question 14: I say True. When my sister took the quiz, she said that she can always tell when I'm lying, but that she thought my answer was true anyway. I think that, if she can always tell, she's remarkably adept at not indicating it, but perhaps that's beside the point. If nothing else, I'm wonderful at lying to myself, so it's true on that score. I do try not to lie to people who matter to me. It's just that some people who don't matter too much (people like co-workers who I used to see once a week, or fellow students in one of my classes whose names I haven't even been told) seem to think that they should matter a lot.

These questions are coming from my 'How well do you know Beccaie Jamieson?' quiz on Facebook. Thus far, the high scores are 35% among my friends, 40% among my sister's friends, 41% for my mother, with my sister scoring 74%. I'm bringing the questions to my blog in the hopes that some more people will get to know me better.

Question 12

12) Crocheting is...
a) tedious
b) time-consuming
c) faster than knitting, but boring as all get out
d) something I used to do much more
e) all of the above

Poor, neglected blog. I'm late again, and I haven't even named my newest 7 dragons yet. Heck, I haven't even entered my new egg into my spreadsheet. This school thing is sure time-consuming. More on that later.

I haven't done much knitting this week, either. Partly school and partly getting my mom ready for her vacation -- she left Friday morning for 16.5 days. Ahhh, the peace. And I get to shut off the cuckoo clock. Shhh, don't tell. ;) Actually, the reason that this didn't go up on Thursday was because I didn't even get to the computer until very, very late, and then I didn't have enough brain power to write coherently. My mom has a truly amazing gift for creating panic when faced with packing. You'd never think that she's been taking at least one major vacation a year for the past 50+ years. The reason it wasn't posted on Friday is because I slept most of the day, recovering from Thursday. I have no excuse for Saturday.

Sorry, I wandered a bit there, didn't I? I was talking about knitting. I think that part of my problem at this point may be that I don't really like to knit sleeves. I currently have 3 sweaters-in-progress that are at the sleeves stage. I have another one that's approaching the sleeves. I think I may not like them because I have to pay attention and count rows, and I'm not too fond of doing that. Or maybe it's that sleeves come in pairs. Then again, so do socks, and I can whip those out when using worsted weight yarn, and the sleeves are all in worsted weight or thicker, so I'm not sure that holds water. At any rate, I present Potato Chip Sock number 7a. This is made with the yarn I got from Warm Woolies, held triple. It looks huge because it is -- the foot is 11 inches. This will be for their 10 for 10 campaign, and those socks have to have a foot length of at least 10 inches. I erred on the side of caution.




So, school. It started last Monday. I've got 2 classes that meet twice a week, and one that's online. As some of you may know, I still haven't met the professor for my evening class -- he was on vacation this week. The first week of the school year. Without leaving any information for his substitute beyond the syllabus and the fact that we were to cover Chapter 1 and part of Chapter 2 (but not how much of it). An interesting approach to teaching. It's really funny, because 90% of our grade is based on 2 tests (midterm and final), so the syllabus reads like he's a bit of a hardass. And then he, he ditches the first two classes. I am puzzled. And sort of looking forward to meeting him, even though I suspect he'll greet us with a quiz, particularly since most people probably aren't expecting it. (There was a phrase in the syllabus that made me think this.)

The other class is Intro to HIT (Health Information Technology). It's interesting because it's a class that's specifically and only for HIT students. It may become interesting in a broader sense after we get through the first couple of chapters. I'm working hard to learn everyone's names, since I'll be working with these women for the next 2 years. This is a little difficult since I sit in the back row, and therefore may not recognize them if we meet face to face. It's coming along though.

I ... um ... haven't done much of anything with my online class yet. Oops. (Although the first assignment isn't due until 9/14, and the first week of classes isn't over yet. By several hours.)

Answer to Question 12: All of the above. My mom and sister tried to argue that crocheting can't be both time-consuming and faster than knitting, but that's just because neither of them can do either. Besides, the question never says that knitting isn't also time-consuming. At any rate, since I learned how to crochet years (decades) before I learned how to knit, it is indeed something that I used to do more. However, I do find it tedious. It may be faster than knitting, but it surely doesn't feel like it. Then again, I haven't knitted as many baby blankets and afghans as I've crocheted, so perhaps if I do that, I'll find knitting tedious as well.

But that's just a very good reason not to cast-on for any kind of blanket.

These questions are coming from my 'How well do you know Beccaie Jamieson?' quiz on Facebook. Thus far, the high scores are 35% among my friends, 40% among my sister's friends, 41% for my mother, with my sister scoring 74%. I'm bringing the questions to my blog in the hopes that some more people will get to know me better.

Breaking News

I got into the Health Information Technology program!!! (That's a fancy way of saying medical billing & coding, for the uninitiated. They've even eliminated the medical transcription part of the program, which was the most interesting to me. Oh well.) The application packet warned that the acceptance letters would probably not go out until August, but mine got here today. Whew! It's not a paying job, but now I have an answer to the "Should I give up and get a full-time job, or hope that I'm actually accepted and aim for a part-time gig that's flexible enough to accomodate changing student schedules?" dilemma that I've been tying my intestines in knots over for the past couple of weeks. Whew! Again.

And now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go collapse into a puddle of relieved goo in the middle of the hallway. (I'd collapse in a corner, but then I'd have to vacuum first. Or risk reconstituting with loads of dust bunnies involved.)

Finished!

I have completed Clue 2 of the second Mystery Sweater for the Warm Woolies knitalong! Woohoo! Of course, those of you who read and remember every detail that I post here (lol) will remember that Clue 3 was released on April 24. But better late than never, right?


That white stripe down the center is actually a measuring tape, which shows that the body of the sweater is 13.5 inches long at this point. On to the shoulders.

The Rivendell sock is also coming along. The heel is completed and I'm nearly halfway through the foot. I hope to have a completed sock to photograph for my next post.

In other news, I have now turned in my completed application to the appropriate office at school, along with the required side trips to pay the application fee and request a(nother) transcript audit. Then there was the extra "field trip" to the office where the application packet said I was supposed to submit it. Of course, once I got there, I found a sign on the door telling me to go to another office in a different building. For the record, I printed off this new, updated application on Tuesday, May 26 (because before that the online version still said it was for the June 1, 2008 deadline) and submitted it on Friday, May 29. Quick move for an entire office! And with construction vehicles blocking two doorways, I ended up walking about half a mile (from the handicapped parking area!) to get everything properly submitted. Perhaps they're hoping that a percentage of the applicants will just give up and apply to another school?

Word Counts

Okay, just because I have to. I know it's boring, but it's been driving me crazy(ier) not to post it somewhere.

History Prof's Word Counts:

(class date).....9/27...10/4...10/11...10/18
Essentially.......410+....269....352......266
More or Less------22+.....32......70........6
Any Way, Shape
or Form............6+......5.......11........4
However Though..................24.......27
Sort of.............................209.....127
Basically.....................................69


I didn't count today because he barely talked, since it was the mid-term. He did manage 1 "sort of" though. lol

P.S. I apologize for all the dots (although it does fit with the page theme). I couldn't get it to stay in table format without them.

History Midterm

Well, it's over. I think it went pretty well. I haven't actually had anything graded by this prof yet, so we'll see what he thinks.

And no, I didn't use the word "essentially." lol

An Essential Update

It's Thursday, so I had history class again. There has been more or less no drop in any way, shape, or form in the "essentially" counts.

13.5 Ppt pages

294 "essentially"s

22 "more or less"s

6 "in any way, shape, or form"s

High count -- 39 "essentially"s each on pages 7 and 10.

Low count -- just 4 "essentially"s on page 12.

He seems to say it more when he's not as interested in the topic he's lecturing on.

(moved from old blog)

Comments:

Aibrean: That's so hysterical, Beccaie! Sounds like drinking game potential! lol!

History Class

Essentially, I think my history class may be interesting.

It's a freshman-level class, of course, so there are ... well, LOTS of freshmen in it. I think there's one other woman somewhere near my age, although I didn't exactly get a friendly vibe from her. The prof is much younger than I am, which is a first for me. He's a doctoral student, and has been teaching at the college level for 4 years, 3 of them at COD. This makes the whole thing essentially more funny.

Think I'm using "essentially" a lot? Come to class with me! ;-)

He's a very freshman-friendly prof, in that he gave us printouts of his whole Powerpoint presentation at the beginning of class. I think I was the only one who even bothered to jot additional notes in the margins. *rolls eyes* We got 3 handouts during this class: the syllabus, naturally; a brief (1.5 page) Powerpoint presentation on the status of Europe in 1600, which should be helpful; and the main (7.5 pages) Ppt lecture. As he was going through the syllabus with us, I realized that he was fond of the word "essentially" and thought I should remember to use it in at least one of the papers I'll have to write. As he was going through the Europe in 1600 presentation, I remembered Bella talking about one of her classes last spring, where a group of people smuggled in alcoholic beverages for a drinking game whenever their prof said whatever "his" word was. Halfway through the second page of the main lecture, I decided that it was a good thing we weren't playing a drinking game, because most of the class would be seriously drunk by now. On the third page, I started counting his "essentially"s. 116 times in the last 4.5 pages. Yes, you read that right. It's not a typo. One hundred sixteen times.

I can't decide if I should say something to him, or start running a pool on the counts. lol

(moved from old blog)

Comments:

Aibrean: lol! Isn't gambling essentially illegal? ;-)

Estelina: Oh good heavens! That is so funny - and a little sad. Someone should tell him - though I'm not sure it should be student, whose grade could be essentially effected.
tee hee
Good luck.

Elhf: Save the poor guy after your final grade, till then keep counting...

Well That's a Switch!

Slight change of plan this semester. For reasons I don't want to go into right now (because it's taken me about 2.5 days to calm down, and I don't want to upset myself again), I'm no longer taking the suck-up-to-the-program-director radiography class. This is good, because (a) I never wanted to do radiography in the first place -- it was just a stepping stone to sonography; and (b) after getting the syllabus and stuff the first week, and enduring the yammering of the prof and the guest speaker, there's no way this would have been a remotely useful class (other than the suck-up factor). Two of the community colleges in neighboring counties have expanded their sonography programs into Associate's degrees, so a radiography degree is no longer a prerequisite for them. Perhaps COD will follow suit; who knows? It does seem like, if you've already got a 15-month (5 "semester" -- they're actually trimesters) certificate program that consists exclusively of sonography-specific classes, you might as well throw in a math and a couple English classes and make a degree of it. I'm glad that at least some schools agree with me.

Of course, this means that I need to find another class, so I can keep my student health insurance. Luckily there are some 12-week, and even 8-week, courses offered. Of course, many of them are already full. There's still a space in one class that's offered in the evening (doesn't interfere with my other classes), on Thursdays (doesn't interfere with work), in the 12-week session (which doesn't start for another 1.5 weeks, so I can still register without a permit), at the Addison Center (8 minute commute, woohoo!) instead of the main campus (20 - 25 minutes, plus parking time). So this could be a good thing. It's World History, from 1600 to the present. Do you suppose this is the year that one of my history classes will actually make it to the 20th century???

Okay, that's unfair. My AP/Honors US History class, senior year in high school, did make it to about 1910. Then we jumped to 1929 for the stock market crash. But we ran out of time before we could get to the Great Depression. (Ironic, considering my personal depression issues. Yeah, yeah, different kind of depression.)

So I guess I'm okay with this. It's really messed with my timelines though. Okay, they were fairly arbitrary timelines, and certainly vulnerable to change anyway, but I do feel a bit de-railed.

(moved from old blog)

Comments:

Aibrean: Well, all that certainly sounds like a "cluster," but it does seem to be working out for the best?? Hang in there!! Hugs!

Rayna: Just in case I haven't said this enough...I am so very proud of you for going back to school and working so very hard...I am just continually impressed!

Now...mail me some jeans babycakes...I'm in the painting mood !

Week 2 of 18, Fall Semester

Well, at least physics is interesting. Of course, I can't get a copy of the lab book, because the bookstore's order has been put on hold by the publisher. And I have to get it at the campus bookstore, because it's not only written by one of the professors there, but it's also the 2nd edition, which was just finished in July. No used copies on this one. Oh well, at least the class is interesting and the prof lectures well. And I do have a copy of the 1st edition, from last spring, so I can probably use that in a pinch.

It's so interesting to see how different the class is in a regular classroom setting, as opposed to independent study. We've got these "clickers" -- each student has one -- and periodically the prof asks us a multiple choice question, and we respond with the clickers, like an audience poll on Who Wants To Be A Millionaire? or something.

Of course, the slight downside is the group of (I think) former Physics Club members who like to argue every little point with the prof -- like the pronunciacion of "Syene," an ancient Egyptian city, and whether it was a well or a pillar that Eratosthenes (or something like that) used to calculate the circumference of the Earth in 2300 B.C.

But even that's interesting, in a weird sort of way.

Now if only my "fun elective" doesn't get cancelled again...

(moved from old blog)

Comments:

Wiz: Hey Beccaie! What's the fun elective??

Hugs to ya!

Me: Hawks & Cranes -- Fall Migration. It doesn't start until October. However, I've got an amazing history of having fun electives cancelled on me due to insufficient enrollment. This one's up to 7 registered students, out of a maximum allowed of 13. I'm cautiously hopeful...

Me: I was going to take a basic astronomy class, focusing on the fall sky, but that was ... wait for it ... cancelled for low enrollment. :-/

Moonie: oooooooo I would adore that class Beccaie! Hope it fills up! And about the lack of motivation??....here take a spoonful of mine. I have a little to spare this week. wink wink

Wiz: Hawks and cranes - sounds great! Sure hope it doesn't get canceled.

Elhf: "physics is interesting" this is a good thing...
Love the sound of both electives - Hope the bird one flies
>;-)

ArwensRose: I couldn't follow physics worth my life. I was so lost in that class. I had been decent in science up till that point, but after that ... I gave up all together.

Now the astronomy I would be all over. I can't believe that there was low enrollment!

Back to School

Wow, it's that time of year again already. Somehow I'm not terribly motivated for this semester, and I'm not sure why. Maybe because my summer was so packed that I don't feel like I've had time to catch my breath. Maybe because two of my classes are ones that I couldn't complete last spring, because of the pneumonia. Possibly because another one of my classes is essentially a suck-up-to-the-director-of-the-radiography-program class. But I'm kind of afraid that I'm just getting bored with school. This is my sixth semester. I'm coming up on the two year mark. Anymore, that really seems to be the length of my attention span. :-S

(moved from old blog)

Comments:

Wiz: Beccaie!!!! Good to hear from you.

Hang in there, Lady. Think of all the time you've already put in. Once you're done, you're done. You are doing great.

Hugs!
Wiz

AIbrean: Almost two years already?! Maybe the classes just aren't challenging enough?? Are you done with the boring core curriculum? Can you take something that will really stimulate your mind??

Ehlf: 2 years, that's half way home ... hang in there - find a really fun elective

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?"
========================================================================
(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