So yesterday I had the opportunity to attend a Rotary luncheon. Three Big Foot students were invited to talk a little about themselves, and they needed a ride. I got an undercooked pork chop out of the deal, so it was definitely worth it. Anyway, here's a short running diary of the event:
11:30 We board the school Suburban and head to Abbey Springs. On the radio: "Honky Tonk Badonkadonk," by Trace Adkins. I wonder how many of the Rotarians would be able to define "badonkadonk." (And yes, according to cowboylyrics.com, that's how you spell it.)
11:40 We arrive, somewhat uncertain of where we're supposed to be. We enter the Yacht Club door, but it looks kind of empty except for an old guy in an ill-fitting Cosby sweater and another guy that looks like a magician (white dress shirt, black leather vest). Magician asks if we're here for the Rotary meeting. Indeed we are. He points us to our table and says that we can "dig in" whenever we'd like. Then he pulls a quarter out of my ear.
11:42 Since no one else is here, we feel a little uncomfortable starting to eat, so the students all talk about how nervous they are to speak in front of all of these people. I tell them it's not that big a deal. If they do a good job, however, they might get $4,000. (The Rotary sponsors one of the big scholarships on Honor Night.) No pressure though.
11:46 People are starting to show up, so we head to the buffet table. On the menu: salad (lots of mushrooms and big cucumbers, so that's a plus), breadsticks (not warm), rice, green beans & carrots (surprisingly tasty), and pork chops with baked apples (very rubbery; might give us all salmonella). Unsweetened iced tea to drink. Adequate meal, but I'm definitely thinking about the leftover fried rice that's waiting for me in the teachers' lounge fridge.
11:52 Don't you hate eating in front of people? I mean, not family or friends or whatever, but like students or Rotarians? These cucumbers are huge, so I'm getting Italian dressing on the corners of my mouth with every bite. I can hear myself chewing the pork chop. Good thing I'm not the one who has to impress people here today.
12:00 We're all finished with the meal and making small talk with the Rotarians that keep coming up to us to say hi and tell me that they played baseball for my dad. This is the worst part of functions like this. I barely like talking to my friends, much less people I barely know. And I think that if one more guy asks Jeff McMahon, a senior soccer player at Big Foot, if he played on that great football team this year, he's going to snap. Can't blame him.
12:10 This is where the weirdness begins. The bell is rung (by--I am not making this up--a guy named John Ring), and everyone stands. He says, "'America the Beautiful'--first verse." And we all begin to sing. (How do I know all the words to that song, by the way?) We finish and John the Bell Ringer takes us into the Pledge of Allegiance. When we finish that, one of the Rotarians who happens to be a minister leads us in prayer. The highlight of the day, by far, comes during the prayer when a woman's cell phone goes off and the ring tone is--again, I am not making this up--"Bad Day," by Daniel Powter. Classic. I bet that lady could totally define "badonkadonk." Anyway, the minister is totally flustered. She abruptly ends the prayer and everyone sort of stifles a giggle. This is fun.
12:15 Apparently Cosby Sweater is also the Sergeant-at-Arms (real title), which means that he has to collect these make-believe fines from people because that's how Rotary makes money (at least in part). For example, he fines the "Bad Day" lady because of the interruption. But it's all in fun. These Rotarians know how to have a good time.
12:18 John the Bell Ringer invites me to come up and introduce the kids. I thank the Rotarians for their generosity and tell them that I know all of these kids and they're all great, which they pretty much are, then I let the students take it from there. Their 60-second speeches are pretty generic, but they get the job done. I'm ready to duck out, but I don't suppose that's polite because there's another speaker. Magician comes up and introduces this woman from an organization called Hearts in Motion, which actually sounds pretty cool even though it's not entirely clear what they do. I know it's mostly in Guatemala; I know that you can go down there for 10 days to volunteer for $1,500; and I know that she has a lot of disgusting stories about a girl who was born "without a face," a woman who came to her with a tumor on the side of her head that was "twice the size of her head," and some similarly-inflicted Guatemalan folks. It's pretty sad. Plus there's a video. During the video, I call Deb in the office to tell her I'm going to need a sub because the luncheon is running long.
1:04 The Hearts in Motion lady finishes up and gets a round of applause. (It's not clear why she was speaking. She didn't ask for money or volunteers, and she didn't thank anyone. But she's married to one of the Rotarian's basketball teammates, so that might have something to do with it.) Then Magician cuts her in half.
1:12 We finally get out the door--a lot of these Rotarians like to make small talk with the kids after lunch, which is fine because they're going to end up giving them a lot of money down the line. And they're reasonably nice.
1:13 On the Suburban ride home, the kids are kind of giddy, the way that kids are when they've been nervous about something but now it's over. We get back to school and I head back to English 11 Lit., which is populated by a lot of kids that will never be asked to a Rotary luncheon.
2:07 I duck out of class to go finish off that fried rice.
Later gators.
Friday, November 30, 2007
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
who says there's nothing good on tv?
When I dress in the morning, my only real goal is not to stand out. I don't need to be the best-dressed guy in the room. I just don't want anyone to wonder if I'm colorblind.
I do not dance in public.
I avoid eating messy food around people I've just met.
All of these things are true for the same reason: I have a healthy respect for embarrassment. Evidently, this is not true of the following people: Brigitte Nelson, Jeff Conway, Daniel Baldwin, Jessica Sierra, Seth Binzer, and Joanie Laurer. I know that because those are the celebrities (!) that are going to be featured on the new show, Celebrity Detox. (On some web sites, it's referred to as Celebrity Rehab, but I trust Perez Hilton unequivocally).
Now, after hearing about the show on the radio this morning, I decided to do a little research once I got to school, and I was shocked to find out that there are critics out there that think this is a "controversial," or sometimes "appalling," concept for a show. I disagree. I think this is an excellent idea for a show, and I hate reality TV. Here's why I think it's awesome:
1. They can use Amy Winehouse's "Rehab" as the theme song. I kind of like that song.
2. There could be a really hilarious, ironic drinking game associated with the show. Every time Jeff Conway spits when he yells, you drink. Every time someone accidentally calls Joanie Laurer "Chyna," you drink. Every time Jessica Sierra, of American Idol "fame," vomits, you drink. Every time Brigitte Nelson has fewer than two items of clothing on, you drink. I think this is brilliant.
3. It has Drew Pinksy. What the heck happened to Loveline, by the way? I loved that show.
4. It solicited the following comment, a reference to musician Seth Binzer, on perezhilton.com: "The fact that Crazytown ever existed kind of makes me want to smoke crack. I can only imagine how this guy must feel."
There's only one thing that could make the show better: a Survivor-type format in which contestants are booted off every week. Sorry, Mr. Baldwin. We'd like to help you, but it took you nearly three minutes to finish the obstacle course. Best of luck.
Later gators.
I do not dance in public.
I avoid eating messy food around people I've just met.
All of these things are true for the same reason: I have a healthy respect for embarrassment. Evidently, this is not true of the following people: Brigitte Nelson, Jeff Conway, Daniel Baldwin, Jessica Sierra, Seth Binzer, and Joanie Laurer. I know that because those are the celebrities (!) that are going to be featured on the new show, Celebrity Detox. (On some web sites, it's referred to as Celebrity Rehab, but I trust Perez Hilton unequivocally).
Now, after hearing about the show on the radio this morning, I decided to do a little research once I got to school, and I was shocked to find out that there are critics out there that think this is a "controversial," or sometimes "appalling," concept for a show. I disagree. I think this is an excellent idea for a show, and I hate reality TV. Here's why I think it's awesome:
1. They can use Amy Winehouse's "Rehab" as the theme song. I kind of like that song.
2. There could be a really hilarious, ironic drinking game associated with the show. Every time Jeff Conway spits when he yells, you drink. Every time someone accidentally calls Joanie Laurer "Chyna," you drink. Every time Jessica Sierra, of American Idol "fame," vomits, you drink. Every time Brigitte Nelson has fewer than two items of clothing on, you drink. I think this is brilliant.
3. It has Drew Pinksy. What the heck happened to Loveline, by the way? I loved that show.
4. It solicited the following comment, a reference to musician Seth Binzer, on perezhilton.com: "The fact that Crazytown ever existed kind of makes me want to smoke crack. I can only imagine how this guy must feel."
There's only one thing that could make the show better: a Survivor-type format in which contestants are booted off every week. Sorry, Mr. Baldwin. We'd like to help you, but it took you nearly three minutes to finish the obstacle course. Best of luck.
Later gators.
Monday, November 26, 2007
the yapping point
In The Tipping Point, Malcolm Gladwell defines the "tipping point" as "that one dramatic moment in an epidemic when everything can change all at once." This blog entry is not about the tipping point. However, it is about a similar phenomenon that I have encountered, and I'm going to call it the yapping point. Allow me to explain.
Every so often, I'll be with friends--typically guy friends--and someone will open a bottle of rancid milk or something similar and he (or, sometimes, she) will say, "Oh my god. That's disgusting. Smell that." Now, you have no doubt made note of the irony here--if it's so noteworthily disgusting, why would you impose that odor on someone else? But here's the thing--everybody makes this observation. In fact, they make it so often that I dread hearing someone suggest that a friend "smell that" for that very reason. This is the yapping point. It's the point at which the public outcry against some contemptuous individual or idea becomes more contemptuous that the individual or the idea itself. Britney Spears is another great example. I don't think I particularly like Britney Spears; she seems sort of insane. But I'm beginning to outright loathe all of the magazines/telelvision "news" shows/etc. that make it their job to constantly point out how insane she is. Britney has reached the yapping point.
I bring this up because this morning I had a radio station on--I think it was AM 620 out of Milwaukee. For those of you don't listen to talk radio, that station is conservative to the point of absurdity--a host named Charlie Sykes is the most egregious offender. And they had a guy on talking about his new book, the thesis of which seems to be something like this: We are making the current generation of children soft by trying too hard to make them feel good about themselves. This is a concept that has, without a doubt, reached the yapping point.
Now, this doesn't mean that I disagree with the sentiment, at least not entirely. I do think that there are examples of our culture coddling our children a bit much. I do not, for example, like the idea that every kid gets a trophy just for playing Little League baseball. However, those examples are rare, as are virtually all examples of crazy behavior. But guys like this one (and I wish I had listened long enough to catch his name) seem convinced that this sort of behavior is rampant. I am quite certain that it's not. I teach high school, and I am sure that I hear people complain about how soft our kids are getting much more often than I see examples of actual softness in these kids. But I suppose that he wouldn't sell many books under the premise that this stuff barely happens at all--he needs it to be a national epidemic, so for the purposes of his book, it is.
At any rate, I am here to tell you that most kids are fine. Some are strange, some are socially awkward, and some smell like rancid milk, but those instances are rare, just like the instances of coddling that this guy is in a tizzy over. And that's why I'm more sick of him than I am of those rare instances, and that's why this idea has reached its yapping point.
Later gators.
Every so often, I'll be with friends--typically guy friends--and someone will open a bottle of rancid milk or something similar and he (or, sometimes, she) will say, "Oh my god. That's disgusting. Smell that." Now, you have no doubt made note of the irony here--if it's so noteworthily disgusting, why would you impose that odor on someone else? But here's the thing--everybody makes this observation. In fact, they make it so often that I dread hearing someone suggest that a friend "smell that" for that very reason. This is the yapping point. It's the point at which the public outcry against some contemptuous individual or idea becomes more contemptuous that the individual or the idea itself. Britney Spears is another great example. I don't think I particularly like Britney Spears; she seems sort of insane. But I'm beginning to outright loathe all of the magazines/telelvision "news" shows/etc. that make it their job to constantly point out how insane she is. Britney has reached the yapping point.
I bring this up because this morning I had a radio station on--I think it was AM 620 out of Milwaukee. For those of you don't listen to talk radio, that station is conservative to the point of absurdity--a host named Charlie Sykes is the most egregious offender. And they had a guy on talking about his new book, the thesis of which seems to be something like this: We are making the current generation of children soft by trying too hard to make them feel good about themselves. This is a concept that has, without a doubt, reached the yapping point.
Now, this doesn't mean that I disagree with the sentiment, at least not entirely. I do think that there are examples of our culture coddling our children a bit much. I do not, for example, like the idea that every kid gets a trophy just for playing Little League baseball. However, those examples are rare, as are virtually all examples of crazy behavior. But guys like this one (and I wish I had listened long enough to catch his name) seem convinced that this sort of behavior is rampant. I am quite certain that it's not. I teach high school, and I am sure that I hear people complain about how soft our kids are getting much more often than I see examples of actual softness in these kids. But I suppose that he wouldn't sell many books under the premise that this stuff barely happens at all--he needs it to be a national epidemic, so for the purposes of his book, it is.
At any rate, I am here to tell you that most kids are fine. Some are strange, some are socially awkward, and some smell like rancid milk, but those instances are rare, just like the instances of coddling that this guy is in a tizzy over. And that's why I'm more sick of him than I am of those rare instances, and that's why this idea has reached its yapping point.
Later gators.
Thursday, November 15, 2007
students say the darndest things
First, my apologies because this has been my worst blogging week so far. It's the first week of basketball, and I've been real busy, but that sounds like an excuse, so forget it. I've dropped the ball. Sorry.
Anyway, here's one that's been in the cooker for a while. When you're a teacher--especially an English teacher--you'll occasinally be reading through a paper and find a line (sometimes more) in a paper that a student has written that makes you laugh out loud, then go into the room next door and say, "You've gotta' hear this." Sometimes it's because of sloppiness, and sometimes it's not at all clear why it happens, but I've decided to give you a sampling of such lines (and while I am going to use aliases so as not to lose my job, I can assure you that these are all direct quotations):
CHARITY WILSON (Persuasive Research Paper): "'Disabled' and 'retarded' people have a special place in God's eyes."
I believe that Charity was quoting from Leviticus there.
JUSTIN HILL (Literary Analysis): "Billy Collins's students take poetry for granite."
It's possible that this is just an awkward way of saying that Collins's students sometimes think that a bit of verse is actually a piece of plutonic igneous rock. If so, they would be only slightly more daft than mine.
GRANT VANDEBOGERT (Othello Essay Test): "Othello is a warrior for Venetia."
Actually, Grant, it's people from Venice that are called Venetians. Nice try.
BRIDGET BROWN (Reflection Paper): "In this class, I learned different ways of writing in different time zones. Like how people acted in the past compared to now."
Time zones, Bridget? Really? Like how people on the east coast write differently than people in the midwest? Or could you possibly have meant different time periods? Possibly?
JUSTIN LANDON (Persuasive Essay): "Ninja fighting turtles is probably the best thing that anyone has ever seen."
Probably.
NATE SANDERSON (throughout an entire Connection Paper): "The Great Gagesby."
And this was after we'd read almost the entire book aloud in class and he had had a copy of it at his disposal for two weeks. Take a glance at the cover, Nate.
ANNIE LEWIS (Connection Paper, in which students are to connect the book--in this case The Great Gatsby--with something else they've read): "The Great Gatsby reminded me a lot of a book that I read when I was in middle school. I don't remember the name, but it's really similar."
And that was her ENTIRE ESSAY! Excellent work, Annie. I'll take your word for it.
PARKER FRITZ (Literary Analysis): "Overall, this essay shows an awesome use of diction."
TOTALLY awesome.
NATE SANDERSON (Final Exam Essay, in which he was to identify the five points of view discussed in class: 1st-person participant, 1st-person observer, 2nd-person, 3rd-person limited, and 3rd-person omniscient): “There are five different point of views: first person, second person watching, second person reacting, third person limited, and third person obeisant."
Yup, that's the same Nate Sanderson. I'm not sure which is my favorite. Possibly 2nd-person watching, but possibly 3rd-person obeisant. (In case you were curious, Webster's Dictionary defines "obeisant" as "respectful." I always appreciate a respectful narrator.)
Hope that entertained you as much as it frustrated me.
Later gators.
Anyway, here's one that's been in the cooker for a while. When you're a teacher--especially an English teacher--you'll occasinally be reading through a paper and find a line (sometimes more) in a paper that a student has written that makes you laugh out loud, then go into the room next door and say, "You've gotta' hear this." Sometimes it's because of sloppiness, and sometimes it's not at all clear why it happens, but I've decided to give you a sampling of such lines (and while I am going to use aliases so as not to lose my job, I can assure you that these are all direct quotations):
CHARITY WILSON (Persuasive Research Paper): "'Disabled' and 'retarded' people have a special place in God's eyes."
I believe that Charity was quoting from Leviticus there.
JUSTIN HILL (Literary Analysis): "Billy Collins's students take poetry for granite."
It's possible that this is just an awkward way of saying that Collins's students sometimes think that a bit of verse is actually a piece of plutonic igneous rock. If so, they would be only slightly more daft than mine.
GRANT VANDEBOGERT (Othello Essay Test): "Othello is a warrior for Venetia."
Actually, Grant, it's people from Venice that are called Venetians. Nice try.
BRIDGET BROWN (Reflection Paper): "In this class, I learned different ways of writing in different time zones. Like how people acted in the past compared to now."
Time zones, Bridget? Really? Like how people on the east coast write differently than people in the midwest? Or could you possibly have meant different time periods? Possibly?
JUSTIN LANDON (Persuasive Essay): "Ninja fighting turtles is probably the best thing that anyone has ever seen."
Probably.
NATE SANDERSON (throughout an entire Connection Paper): "The Great Gagesby."
And this was after we'd read almost the entire book aloud in class and he had had a copy of it at his disposal for two weeks. Take a glance at the cover, Nate.
ANNIE LEWIS (Connection Paper, in which students are to connect the book--in this case The Great Gatsby--with something else they've read): "The Great Gatsby reminded me a lot of a book that I read when I was in middle school. I don't remember the name, but it's really similar."
And that was her ENTIRE ESSAY! Excellent work, Annie. I'll take your word for it.
PARKER FRITZ (Literary Analysis): "Overall, this essay shows an awesome use of diction."
TOTALLY awesome.
NATE SANDERSON (Final Exam Essay, in which he was to identify the five points of view discussed in class: 1st-person participant, 1st-person observer, 2nd-person, 3rd-person limited, and 3rd-person omniscient): “There are five different point of views: first person, second person watching, second person reacting, third person limited, and third person obeisant."
Yup, that's the same Nate Sanderson. I'm not sure which is my favorite. Possibly 2nd-person watching, but possibly 3rd-person obeisant. (In case you were curious, Webster's Dictionary defines "obeisant" as "respectful." I always appreciate a respectful narrator.)
Hope that entertained you as much as it frustrated me.
Later gators.
Monday, November 12, 2007
why sam is awesome
Those of you that know me well know that I am a fan of Bill Simmons, sportswriter for ESPN.com. (For a specific example of his awesomeness, check out the "some cool links" post from a couple weeks back.) In one column (actually, probably in a few columns), Simmons explains that he thinks television (and radio) producers go about choosing broadcasting teams for sporting events the wrong way. They try to get the best color guy, the best play-by-play guy, etc. This seems to make sense, except it leaves out a key component of the formula for a successful broadcast team: chemistry. Last year, the Monday Night Football people decided to put Tony Kornheiser and Joe Theismann in the booth together because Kornheiser is funny and Theismann is (sort of) a good football guy. But Kornheiser just mocked Theismann while Theismann just made stupid, obvious, and sometimes baffling observations that were loosely related to the game. It was not a success. What would have been more successful, Simmons suggests (and I agree), would be to choose the best guy--let's say it's Kornheiser-- and tell him that he needs to pick another guy or two to work with him. Wouldn't you rather hear a few guys who are buddies and have some chemistry talking about a football game than a bunch of guys who would obviously never spend time together outside of the booth?
For those of you who are not football fans, another example: Nicole Beckford is a good friend of mine and a fellow member of the English department at Big Foot High School. She's kind of team teaching with another teacher this term, and I'm sure it's going to go fine, but it got me thinking about how much fun it could be for the two of us to team teach a class. We both know what we're doing (no one wants to listen to incompetent people, no matter how close they are), and I think everyone--ourselves and our students--would have fun and learn a lot. (I had an experience like this when Bill Schang and Russell Blake taught Growing Up in America during my freshman year at Ripon--it was a lot of fun for us, and you could tell that they were having fun too.)
And this is why Sam Baker & the Band is such a blast to see. I went to their show Saturday night at Beezle's, and the mood in that place was perfect for a smalltown bar on a Saturday night--it was relaxed and comfortable. You could see the guys joking around between songs. They did a little gag during the pause in one of the songs--"Wild Rose"?--where they pretended like it was over, then came in loud, all at once. When Bob, the bass player, realized that they didn't have a mic set up for him, he wandered over and sat awkwardly (but sort of smoothly, if that make sense) at the keyboard, which had a mic set up for Sam during the second part of the set. Later, when he shared the mic with Sam for "Do Good Then Walk Away," Sam gave him a shove and the two nearly cracked up in the middle of the song. And that's what I think most people are looking for at a concert. Sure, these guys are awesome musicians, but I can hear awesome musicians almost any time--I do have plenty of Conway Twitty CD's at home, you know. But there's a comfortability, an accessibility about these guys that makes the live performances terrific. It's the same thing that was missing from the Kornheiser/Theismann experiment, and the same thing that would exist if Nicole and I were to teach a class together. Chemistry.
Anyway, it was a great show all around. And that's why Sam is awesome.
Later gators.
For those of you who are not football fans, another example: Nicole Beckford is a good friend of mine and a fellow member of the English department at Big Foot High School. She's kind of team teaching with another teacher this term, and I'm sure it's going to go fine, but it got me thinking about how much fun it could be for the two of us to team teach a class. We both know what we're doing (no one wants to listen to incompetent people, no matter how close they are), and I think everyone--ourselves and our students--would have fun and learn a lot. (I had an experience like this when Bill Schang and Russell Blake taught Growing Up in America during my freshman year at Ripon--it was a lot of fun for us, and you could tell that they were having fun too.)
And this is why Sam Baker & the Band is such a blast to see. I went to their show Saturday night at Beezle's, and the mood in that place was perfect for a smalltown bar on a Saturday night--it was relaxed and comfortable. You could see the guys joking around between songs. They did a little gag during the pause in one of the songs--"Wild Rose"?--where they pretended like it was over, then came in loud, all at once. When Bob, the bass player, realized that they didn't have a mic set up for him, he wandered over and sat awkwardly (but sort of smoothly, if that make sense) at the keyboard, which had a mic set up for Sam during the second part of the set. Later, when he shared the mic with Sam for "Do Good Then Walk Away," Sam gave him a shove and the two nearly cracked up in the middle of the song. And that's what I think most people are looking for at a concert. Sure, these guys are awesome musicians, but I can hear awesome musicians almost any time--I do have plenty of Conway Twitty CD's at home, you know. But there's a comfortability, an accessibility about these guys that makes the live performances terrific. It's the same thing that was missing from the Kornheiser/Theismann experiment, and the same thing that would exist if Nicole and I were to teach a class together. Chemistry.
Anyway, it was a great show all around. And that's why Sam is awesome.
Later gators.
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