Maybe science teachers don't get this...maybe some of my students won't even believe this (though they don't read this blog, anyway), those at least who see me as an evil uber grader...EVERY semester, my wife has to deal with it, so i thought I would just document it here.
I go through a phase of something-like-sadness every semester after grades are turned in. On the one hand, I have my standard out-of-the-box regret and worry that I coulda/shoulda done more to equip my students. On the other, I have this more emotional, probably inappropriate, sadness. I'll likely never see these folks again, for the most part. We've endured so much together in just 15 weeks. I've gotten in their heads through their journals. I've wrestled rhetoric with them. I've watched them grow. It's something akin, in ways, to the empty nest syndrome parents feel when their kids go on. Maybe it's a bit like sending someone off to the battle front.
I get a twinge of it again, at commencement sometimes, but it's just not the same.
I like this time of year, for now that all the grades are in, students can drop the Eddie Haskell and just be honest and true. That's when a teacher learns the most, so far as impact, etc. Instructor evaluations are enlightening. Candid journal assessments are, too. I think the biggest endorsement that I must be doing something right is when students refer their family members (husbands, children, etc) to take my courses, or when a student actually takes another course with me in the future. Either they are masochists, or they feel they are getting something from the exposure.
Meanwhile, I'll work through it, like I always do. I busy myself with things-to-do over breaks, and I try to put it all out of my mind. The great (?) thing about this job is that I get a whole new crop of folk next semester to invest in, again.
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
Monday, December 11, 2006
Tom Robbins Time
I'm within sight of winter break. Weeks of time! Free time! Not everyone has this luxury, this priceless holiday bonus. Some people work outside of academia, I'm reminded, and only have a few days either side of a recognized holiday.
This holiday is especially exciting. It's our first in our new house. It's the last before Jarvis 3.0 is hatched (due out January 9th, I'm reminded). Last year at this time, I composed a list of to-do's, especially to avoid the emotional cesspool of regret I usually feel after a lengthy vacation: "I could have done more..." "Why didn't I just..." That list served me well, and I'm going to kick another one out this week. Last year's list was mundane, looking back. I'm going to powerpack this one!
Tom Robbins, whom I have often referred as my favorite author, has yet to make an appearance here at Musement Park, and it's time. If you've not read his work, put it on your list for the break (assuming you have a break...and if you don't, read him instead of sleeping). I would be challenged to accurately characterize or summarize his work, but I can explain what I like about it. He is not presumptuous. He is one who can turn a phrase or milk a metaphor for all it is worth. He's funny, often naughty, and always mentally stimulating.
To give you a taste, I'm sharing here a passage from his book, Skinny Legs and All on this very subject of time (even a cursory review of this blog will prove time to be an obsession of mine):
Information about time cannot be imparted in a straightforward way. Like furniture, it has to be tipped and tilted to get it through the door. If the past is a solid oak buffet whose legs must be unscrewed and whose drawers must be removed before, in an altered state, it can be upended into the entryway of our minds, then the future is a king-sized waterbed that hardly stands a chance, especially if it needs to be brought up in an elevator. Those billions who persist in perceiving time as the pursuit of the future are continually buying waterbeds that will never make it beyond the front porch or the lobby. And if man's mission is to reside in the fullness of the present, then he's got no space for the waterbed, anyhow, not even if he could lower it through a skylight.
See what I mean? Swell, huh?
This holiday is especially exciting. It's our first in our new house. It's the last before Jarvis 3.0 is hatched (due out January 9th, I'm reminded). Last year at this time, I composed a list of to-do's, especially to avoid the emotional cesspool of regret I usually feel after a lengthy vacation: "I could have done more..." "Why didn't I just..." That list served me well, and I'm going to kick another one out this week. Last year's list was mundane, looking back. I'm going to powerpack this one!
Tom Robbins, whom I have often referred as my favorite author, has yet to make an appearance here at Musement Park, and it's time. If you've not read his work, put it on your list for the break (assuming you have a break...and if you don't, read him instead of sleeping). I would be challenged to accurately characterize or summarize his work, but I can explain what I like about it. He is not presumptuous. He is one who can turn a phrase or milk a metaphor for all it is worth. He's funny, often naughty, and always mentally stimulating.
To give you a taste, I'm sharing here a passage from his book, Skinny Legs and All on this very subject of time (even a cursory review of this blog will prove time to be an obsession of mine):
Information about time cannot be imparted in a straightforward way. Like furniture, it has to be tipped and tilted to get it through the door. If the past is a solid oak buffet whose legs must be unscrewed and whose drawers must be removed before, in an altered state, it can be upended into the entryway of our minds, then the future is a king-sized waterbed that hardly stands a chance, especially if it needs to be brought up in an elevator. Those billions who persist in perceiving time as the pursuit of the future are continually buying waterbeds that will never make it beyond the front porch or the lobby. And if man's mission is to reside in the fullness of the present, then he's got no space for the waterbed, anyhow, not even if he could lower it through a skylight.
See what I mean? Swell, huh?
Monday, December 04, 2006
Workin' in a coal mine/Goin' down down down/Workin' in a coal mine/Whop! about to slip down...
Yes, it's a tough job, but somebody's got to do it. 'Tis the season all of us on this side of the desk bemoan our lousy jobs. I'm grading my (literal) foot-high stacks of essays, gnashing my teeth, gnawing my pencil, 'gnowing' all the while how futile some of it may be.
Yet I persist.
It's not really the toughest job I've ever held.
In fact, it would be fun if you all chimed in on this: What was your toughest job?
Here's a few to get you started...
Once, I worked overnight as a custodian at a childcare center on campus. It was generally pud, for I had all night to do 4 hours of work, and I had free reign of the facility...however, cleaning the kiddie urinals daily was unpleasant, and when they played in the sand, it was impossible to vacuum.
I can beat that, myself. I once (for a single day) worked at a feedlot (look it up, ye who know naught of them). I painted corral fencing, waded up to my knees in mud-n-manure. It was June, very hot, very humid, very...fragrant. The paint was oil-based. We were using wash mitts to apply it. The paint dried on my arms and 'had' to be removed with wire brush and gasoline (not too smart, to say the least).
Then there was the day I did preg-checks for an entire day, reaching the length of my arm into the privates of bovines...
Then, a couple of times, I've had to castrate cattle. The man I worked for let his little bullies get far too large (two years old, some of them) and thus, cutting horns and testicles was a gruesome, painful, nightmare for everyone involved.
Oh, almost forgot the manual labor experience that sent me packing to higher education: I was laying out a year before committing to college. I was undecided. Working in a glass shop, I found my motivation one spring day when several 4x8 sheets of plate glass smacked me like a bug when they were blown free of the delivery truck. Though not badly injured, (after all, I was 18 and invincible) I was suddenly aware that standing by a glass truck on a smoke break had nearly proven fatal.
I have been exposed to truly terrible work environments. I've watched the poor, hapless drones behind the fast food counter and within the kitchen. I've heard some horror stories from highway workers. I watched Clerks...
...and, in April of 2000, I had the chance to walk 3 miles in the boots of true coal miners in Mexico. We descended deep into a mine, so deep and oppressive it gave me the heebie jeebies just to be there. It was dark, humid, dusty in places...sometimes outright hot, as if we were drilling to the center of the earth. I expected a spurt of magma at any minute. When we came out later, I was so coated in black coal dust it took (truly!) days and days to get it all out of my pores. Now THAT was a nasty job, coal mining.
Yet I persist.
It's not really the toughest job I've ever held.
In fact, it would be fun if you all chimed in on this: What was your toughest job?
Here's a few to get you started...
Once, I worked overnight as a custodian at a childcare center on campus. It was generally pud, for I had all night to do 4 hours of work, and I had free reign of the facility...however, cleaning the kiddie urinals daily was unpleasant, and when they played in the sand, it was impossible to vacuum.
I can beat that, myself. I once (for a single day) worked at a feedlot (look it up, ye who know naught of them). I painted corral fencing, waded up to my knees in mud-n-manure. It was June, very hot, very humid, very...fragrant. The paint was oil-based. We were using wash mitts to apply it. The paint dried on my arms and 'had' to be removed with wire brush and gasoline (not too smart, to say the least).
Then there was the day I did preg-checks for an entire day, reaching the length of my arm into the privates of bovines...
Then, a couple of times, I've had to castrate cattle. The man I worked for let his little bullies get far too large (two years old, some of them) and thus, cutting horns and testicles was a gruesome, painful, nightmare for everyone involved.
Oh, almost forgot the manual labor experience that sent me packing to higher education: I was laying out a year before committing to college. I was undecided. Working in a glass shop, I found my motivation one spring day when several 4x8 sheets of plate glass smacked me like a bug when they were blown free of the delivery truck. Though not badly injured, (after all, I was 18 and invincible) I was suddenly aware that standing by a glass truck on a smoke break had nearly proven fatal.
I have been exposed to truly terrible work environments. I've watched the poor, hapless drones behind the fast food counter and within the kitchen. I've heard some horror stories from highway workers. I watched Clerks...
...and, in April of 2000, I had the chance to walk 3 miles in the boots of true coal miners in Mexico. We descended deep into a mine, so deep and oppressive it gave me the heebie jeebies just to be there. It was dark, humid, dusty in places...sometimes outright hot, as if we were drilling to the center of the earth. I expected a spurt of magma at any minute. When we came out later, I was so coated in black coal dust it took (truly!) days and days to get it all out of my pores. Now THAT was a nasty job, coal mining.
Thursday, November 30, 2006
Monday, November 27, 2006
More on Food
I just heard a radio broadcast on food waste...This takes you to the transcript of an interview of the same ilk. "Tim Jones is an anthropologist from the University of Arizona and he was on The Science Show two years ago, having found that households alone, in America alone, throw away $48.3 billion worth of food each year."
Gadzooks! Pass the potatoes.
Gadzooks! Pass the potatoes.
Friday, November 24, 2006
Food...for thought.
As most read this, they are recovering from Thanksgiving feeding frenzies. Some I know had three or four Thanksgiving dinners to devour. We waddle away from these more stuffed than the turkeys we consumed. It is the season in which the guilty pleasure of gorging is soon chased with the guilt-laden advertising of dieting programs, nationwide.
What better time to share some thoughts on food!
Recently, I served up a bowl of dry dog food for my beagle, Roger. Then, I turned my attention to my kids, and poured them some cereal. As everyone was munching away, I thought that every meal should be so simple. Pour it in a bowl and eat it, same thing, every meal, just like Roger.
It also reminded me of a time, as an evil big brother, that I served my little brother a bowl of chocolate puffs cereal. I was tired of serving him breakfast, and I had a bit of a mean streak, too. I waited until he had consumed a few spoonfuls before I told him it was rabbit droppings I’d picked up around the farm before he woke up. (I can only hope my boys won’t be so mean-spirited!) I don’t know the nutritional value of rabbit droppings. I don’t even know if one could put enough sugar on them to make them tasty. I suppose the practice might be environmentally sound, but I don’t suggest it.
What I might suggest, however, is simplifying our diet. This is totally contrary to my wife’s way of thinking. She feels guilty cooking a roast, for it’s too easy. She’s a great cook, inspired by dozens of cookbooks and hours of the food channel. Maybe her way of thinking, that it has to be unique or complicated, is the status quo these days. I know she’s trying to do her best by us, serving sautéed olive skins over braised lamb’s breath sprinkled with shavings of mango or whatever…but truly, it doesn’t have to be a production to be nutritious.
Reminder: I was a bachelor for the better part of twenty years. For me, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches were complicated. I often ate cereal for meals, right out of the box. A sack of potatoes offered me a week of meals. I was not one to shun prepared foods, either. I ate my weight in fast food weekly. I did not recognize food if it did not have to first be unwrapped and micro-waved. One of my greatest garage sale finds of all time was a case of military-issue Meals Ready to Eat (MRE’s). To my way of thinking, to this day, SPAM is the ultimate food product. (It is fun to carve into exotic shapes, too.)
Now, I grew up on a dirt farm, and we produced a great deal of grain. Back then, I thought it was only for livestock. I came to marvel at the annual Home Products Dinner held in my hometown, for they had baked bread from the grain of our ground. They had even made donuts out of sorghum. I learned all manner of corn and grain could be popped. When attending Kansas State University, I toured a facility that turned grain into cheese puffs. Finally, I truly understood: grain really was food!
Interestingly enough, I have since learned that most people on the planet live on a diet of grain products. It’s not just for livestock or cheese puffs. Even a review of the food pyramid suggests a healthy portion of breads, cereals, etc. While a diet exclusively grain-based may not be entirely healthy, it is at least more simple.
Of all the cookbooks in our kitchen, I most admire a couple published by the Mennonites, the “More with Less” series. Sensitive to global inequities in food availability and distribution, aware of the massive environmental footprint left by the diet of the northern hemisphere, rooted in the agrarian tradition of their faith, these ladies put together one heck of a cookbook. It features traditional meals, like those we just enjoyed, but it puts a focus on grain-heavy diets.
My wife and I go round-and-round about this. I say, let’s eat cracked wheat. She says, what about the children? I know it’s never going to go my way, that even if we did have cracked wheat, it would be sprinkled over something exotic. I wouldn’t even suggest a grain-heavy diet to anyone, let alone a vegetarian course. (Area ranchers would shoot me on sight.)
I would say, however, that after our annual pig out, maybe it would be okay to take it easy, to eat more simply. There are actually “movements” afoot to encourage us to slow down and eat whole meals at the kitchen table. One such activist group is Slow Food, USA. They argue that “industrialization of food was standardizing taste and leading to the annihilation of thousands of food varieties and flavors.” Who could argue with preserving food and flavor! They advocate gardening, farmer’s markets, less processed and more simple meals.
That all still seems like a lot of work, but I like the idea of slow food. If I were still a bachelor, I’d support the cause. I’d slowly masticate nothing but potatoes from New Year’s to Thanksgiving, then get my fill of all the good stuff.
What better time to share some thoughts on food!
Recently, I served up a bowl of dry dog food for my beagle, Roger. Then, I turned my attention to my kids, and poured them some cereal. As everyone was munching away, I thought that every meal should be so simple. Pour it in a bowl and eat it, same thing, every meal, just like Roger.
It also reminded me of a time, as an evil big brother, that I served my little brother a bowl of chocolate puffs cereal. I was tired of serving him breakfast, and I had a bit of a mean streak, too. I waited until he had consumed a few spoonfuls before I told him it was rabbit droppings I’d picked up around the farm before he woke up. (I can only hope my boys won’t be so mean-spirited!) I don’t know the nutritional value of rabbit droppings. I don’t even know if one could put enough sugar on them to make them tasty. I suppose the practice might be environmentally sound, but I don’t suggest it.
What I might suggest, however, is simplifying our diet. This is totally contrary to my wife’s way of thinking. She feels guilty cooking a roast, for it’s too easy. She’s a great cook, inspired by dozens of cookbooks and hours of the food channel. Maybe her way of thinking, that it has to be unique or complicated, is the status quo these days. I know she’s trying to do her best by us, serving sautéed olive skins over braised lamb’s breath sprinkled with shavings of mango or whatever…but truly, it doesn’t have to be a production to be nutritious.
Reminder: I was a bachelor for the better part of twenty years. For me, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches were complicated. I often ate cereal for meals, right out of the box. A sack of potatoes offered me a week of meals. I was not one to shun prepared foods, either. I ate my weight in fast food weekly. I did not recognize food if it did not have to first be unwrapped and micro-waved. One of my greatest garage sale finds of all time was a case of military-issue Meals Ready to Eat (MRE’s). To my way of thinking, to this day, SPAM is the ultimate food product. (It is fun to carve into exotic shapes, too.)
Now, I grew up on a dirt farm, and we produced a great deal of grain. Back then, I thought it was only for livestock. I came to marvel at the annual Home Products Dinner held in my hometown, for they had baked bread from the grain of our ground. They had even made donuts out of sorghum. I learned all manner of corn and grain could be popped. When attending Kansas State University, I toured a facility that turned grain into cheese puffs. Finally, I truly understood: grain really was food!
Interestingly enough, I have since learned that most people on the planet live on a diet of grain products. It’s not just for livestock or cheese puffs. Even a review of the food pyramid suggests a healthy portion of breads, cereals, etc. While a diet exclusively grain-based may not be entirely healthy, it is at least more simple.
Of all the cookbooks in our kitchen, I most admire a couple published by the Mennonites, the “More with Less” series. Sensitive to global inequities in food availability and distribution, aware of the massive environmental footprint left by the diet of the northern hemisphere, rooted in the agrarian tradition of their faith, these ladies put together one heck of a cookbook. It features traditional meals, like those we just enjoyed, but it puts a focus on grain-heavy diets.
My wife and I go round-and-round about this. I say, let’s eat cracked wheat. She says, what about the children? I know it’s never going to go my way, that even if we did have cracked wheat, it would be sprinkled over something exotic. I wouldn’t even suggest a grain-heavy diet to anyone, let alone a vegetarian course. (Area ranchers would shoot me on sight.)
I would say, however, that after our annual pig out, maybe it would be okay to take it easy, to eat more simply. There are actually “movements” afoot to encourage us to slow down and eat whole meals at the kitchen table. One such activist group is Slow Food, USA. They argue that “industrialization of food was standardizing taste and leading to the annihilation of thousands of food varieties and flavors.” Who could argue with preserving food and flavor! They advocate gardening, farmer’s markets, less processed and more simple meals.
That all still seems like a lot of work, but I like the idea of slow food. If I were still a bachelor, I’d support the cause. I’d slowly masticate nothing but potatoes from New Year’s to Thanksgiving, then get my fill of all the good stuff.
Monday, November 20, 2006
Mortality Morality
On this day, almost to the hour, three years ago...I had my last conversation with my dad. It wasn't an especially good conversation, for I was gruff. My parents had skipped my son's first birthday party the week previous, and I was in no mood to hear about western kansas, Agrigas meter service, snow over the door handles on the pickups, etc...I was in no mood to negotiate visiting over Thanksgiving at some hotel buffet again, either. I was cloudy, thinking how unlike the Cleavers we were, and how very much I wanted a Rockwellian holiday, just once.
Then, Wednesday morning at the same phone, a call came in. I was the only one on campus, it was a fluke that the phone would even ring on the holiday break. Out of curiosity, I picked up, only to talk to someone from the Ulysses PD, who shared the bad news: my dad had died in his sleep.
I think that was the moment, more than any before/since, that I wished I could control time, that I could TIVO back just two days and have that conversation all over again. Sure, we said the perfunctory "Love 'ya" as always. Sure, he didn't likely even know I was unhappy with him...but if I could re-do that conversation, it would be so very different.
Of course, that is just a fantasy. The reality is that in life there are no do-overs. That one change, my dad's passing, has likely affected me more than any other single event in my timeline. More than getting married. More than having kids. More than flunking out of college. More than asking my best friend to shoot me with a .30 caliber rifle when wearing a kevlar vest....Since that one event, my career changed twice, my residence changed three times, and my outlook has never quite quit revolving around the presence of the present. (For that matter, the present [gift] of the present.)
Sometimes I forget, like everyone else, and just take time and life for granted. There are moments which pass that I still reflect on with regret. For the most part, however, I try to now live as if this moment, these people, this presence, may never recur. Days like this, milestones like headstones, remind me.
I'll never quite know if my dad saw it coming. He was in good health, had quit smoking and he was exercising daily. He'd had a full physical just a month before, and he'd passed with flying colors. Somehow, however, tracking back through his notes, journals, files, etc...I think he was privvy to the reaper's knock. He had become somewhat obsessed with the idea of not only capturing family geneology, but also family history, particularly stories. He had commissioned my wife and I to gather up all the Jarvis family anecdotes by video and audio, and to then link them to 'fruits' hanging from the family tree. Sadly, that idea has not gone past his dream of it...but it suggests that he, at least, understood mortality and wanted to preserve a little something.
I tried following in his footsteps. I even moved back to Western Kansas and took over his estate, his business, and the care of his wife, dogs, property, bills, etc. I was so resolute in that effort that I bought a house there before I even had quit my job back at Cowley.
I learned that wasn't really healthy for me. I'm not him. I don't like it out there, and I didn't like his business. I wanted to preserve the farmstead that had been my father's and his father's before him...but it's just not the same, anyway.
Now, I have a good life, and I'm a much different person than I was 3 years ago. I'd like to show him around the farm I own, set a grandkid on his knee, swap stories, tell lies...and in my head and heart, I suppose I do.
Then, Wednesday morning at the same phone, a call came in. I was the only one on campus, it was a fluke that the phone would even ring on the holiday break. Out of curiosity, I picked up, only to talk to someone from the Ulysses PD, who shared the bad news: my dad had died in his sleep.
I think that was the moment, more than any before/since, that I wished I could control time, that I could TIVO back just two days and have that conversation all over again. Sure, we said the perfunctory "Love 'ya" as always. Sure, he didn't likely even know I was unhappy with him...but if I could re-do that conversation, it would be so very different.
Of course, that is just a fantasy. The reality is that in life there are no do-overs. That one change, my dad's passing, has likely affected me more than any other single event in my timeline. More than getting married. More than having kids. More than flunking out of college. More than asking my best friend to shoot me with a .30 caliber rifle when wearing a kevlar vest....Since that one event, my career changed twice, my residence changed three times, and my outlook has never quite quit revolving around the presence of the present. (For that matter, the present [gift] of the present.)
Sometimes I forget, like everyone else, and just take time and life for granted. There are moments which pass that I still reflect on with regret. For the most part, however, I try to now live as if this moment, these people, this presence, may never recur. Days like this, milestones like headstones, remind me.
I'll never quite know if my dad saw it coming. He was in good health, had quit smoking and he was exercising daily. He'd had a full physical just a month before, and he'd passed with flying colors. Somehow, however, tracking back through his notes, journals, files, etc...I think he was privvy to the reaper's knock. He had become somewhat obsessed with the idea of not only capturing family geneology, but also family history, particularly stories. He had commissioned my wife and I to gather up all the Jarvis family anecdotes by video and audio, and to then link them to 'fruits' hanging from the family tree. Sadly, that idea has not gone past his dream of it...but it suggests that he, at least, understood mortality and wanted to preserve a little something.
I tried following in his footsteps. I even moved back to Western Kansas and took over his estate, his business, and the care of his wife, dogs, property, bills, etc. I was so resolute in that effort that I bought a house there before I even had quit my job back at Cowley.
I learned that wasn't really healthy for me. I'm not him. I don't like it out there, and I didn't like his business. I wanted to preserve the farmstead that had been my father's and his father's before him...but it's just not the same, anyway.
Now, I have a good life, and I'm a much different person than I was 3 years ago. I'd like to show him around the farm I own, set a grandkid on his knee, swap stories, tell lies...and in my head and heart, I suppose I do.
Thursday, November 16, 2006
Personal Responsibility
"Personal responsibility" seems a rare breed, an endangered species. The phrase is composed of two words I used to put in contrast: "personal" for me, was my business; "responsibility" was just an obscenity, so far as I was concerned, for it implied some degree of potential blame...and maturity, ownership, and accountability to Others. Until recently, I would flee from responsibility if ever I could, only accepting it to whatever degree I absolutely had to in order to function in civilization.
That was my take on it. Then I became a parent, and apparently, that changed everything. Now I own-up to being responsible. I know my kids will succeed to the degree I equip them. I know I must earn a living and be accountable (you know, keep office hours, pay taxes, eat regularly, etc) when before I fashioned myself as something of an outlaw misfit doing my own thing. From what I've been observing of others since my change in character and perspective, I'm not so convinced that even parenthood endues everyone with personal responsibility.
I've written before about frivolous lawsuits and the litigious nature of our culture. I've come to agree with conservatives like Glenn Beck on at least this one issue: people don't take responsibility for anything. Does there need to be a warning label on a bag of marshmallows that tells us not to eat the whole bag? Does a bar tender bear the burden of responsibility for someone drinking him- or herself silly? Should McDonald's be held liable for some dunce spilling hot coffee on herself?
I am on this topic at this time in the term for I know what is about to happen: whining. Students who have not, say, bothered to come to class regularly are all-the-sudden conscientious, studious, respectful (Eddie Haskells) and pleading for some extra credit, some reconsideration, some break. Later, a few who are issued a grade they don't particularly like will contest it through official channels, insisting it was not what they earned. (This seldom happens in my classes, but it isn't uncommon on a campus.) All too often, I have yielded, negotiated, and in many ways compromised. Not that I've compromised with the student, but I've compromised my standards.
Of this, I say, no more. (There, it's documented here for me to reflect over later.) Just when did school come to be the place to teach wiley negotiation, anyway? For that matter, is it even our responsibility to teach responsibility? Shouldn't it simply be expected, like it should be in the workforce? I have a feeling that low expectations, all-around, have created this lack of responsibility.
When I was in college, if I did not show up, I knew I was a *uck up, and I took what came my way. Sure, that caused something of a checkered transcript, and I did retake about $6,000 worth of courses, but that was my fault. I was the one who decided to skip, not do homework, refuse to dissect something, sleep in, go to the lake...drop out. I had a choice, I was paying the bills, and I bore the brunt of what I had decided to do.
When I taught technical writing, I had absolutely no mercy. I was supposedly training would-be engineers on workplace expectations. I led the class like an employer. Expectations were high, and achievement was equally high. (Of course, they were on their last semester of a Bachelor's degree and already contracting for jobs that paid several times what I earned, so they had extrinsic motivation!)
That may not work for me here at the community college (note, I did not say Juco!) Instead, I have a new plan to implement: zero tolerance for absences, absolutely no late work, and absolutely no extra credit. I'll keep the policy that work can be submitted in advance of known absences and that anticipated absences (or absences excused by the institution) can be dealt with in advance. I'll have some kind of 'personal hardship' clause, to compensate for sudden deaths among family, etc. Otherwise, I'll front everyone a set amount of points (resembling sick leave). If they expend those points on material not submitted, etc. then it's gone. If, come the end of the term, enough of those points remain in their 'account' then they do not have to take my final exam. (Truth is, that's still extra credit, underneath it all, but it's going to save me an enormous amount of bookwork.)
Maybe that will thwart the whiners next semester.
Back to reality, outside the ivy walls of academia...personal responsibility is a bitter pill, a big burden. No wonder so very many people are repelled by it. By contrast, it seems so much easier to blame others, to litigate against others, to milk some corporate cash cow. The effects of this are far reaching, and all too often, these effects are reaching into my pocket (and no, it doesn't tickle). Medical and insurance rates are high, taxes go higher, and sometimes simple fear is stratospheric. For example, some schools no longer go on field trips. Some churches no longer do 'high risk' fundraisers like car washes. Even teachers must fear the litigious reaper--'heard of "academic negligence" or "educational malpractice" yet? If not, you will!
Just today, an employee of a major toy company told us of a situation I found incredulous. She works a customer complaint line. Someone called her, raised hell with her, for the caller had cut himself when attempting to open her company's toy. (To this point, I could sympathize with the caller, for I spent last weekend struggling with wires and tabs and bangles and what's-it's, just to remove my son's toys from their cartons.) He threatened, then, to sue her company. Result? the policy is that her company is to make every conciliatory effort to appease the customer. Her company paid damages, his medical bills, and something of an out-of-court settlement for the grievous affect the whole affair plagued him with.
Here's the kicker: that man had been opening said toy boxes with a steak knife. There was not warning on the box, he had said, that suggested he might use, say, a nail file or pen knife. Nothing warning him that steak knives, meat cleavers, chain saws or blow torches might endanger him, should he consider using them to open said box.
(Apologies to Genesis): This is the world we live in. This is the hand we're given (unless say, we cut it off with a wild steak knife). I say it's high time we start trying to make it a world worth living in. Maybe the first step is to own up to our own screw ups.
It's a personal goal. It's an instructional goal to impart on my students. It's a goal I have in parenting, too. Already, I tell my kid, "Hey, you have the choice here, pal. You can poop your pants and clean it up, or you can be a big boy and use the stool." If he's figuring it out, maybe everyone else can, too. (?)
That was my take on it. Then I became a parent, and apparently, that changed everything. Now I own-up to being responsible. I know my kids will succeed to the degree I equip them. I know I must earn a living and be accountable (you know, keep office hours, pay taxes, eat regularly, etc) when before I fashioned myself as something of an outlaw misfit doing my own thing. From what I've been observing of others since my change in character and perspective, I'm not so convinced that even parenthood endues everyone with personal responsibility.
I've written before about frivolous lawsuits and the litigious nature of our culture. I've come to agree with conservatives like Glenn Beck on at least this one issue: people don't take responsibility for anything. Does there need to be a warning label on a bag of marshmallows that tells us not to eat the whole bag? Does a bar tender bear the burden of responsibility for someone drinking him- or herself silly? Should McDonald's be held liable for some dunce spilling hot coffee on herself?
I am on this topic at this time in the term for I know what is about to happen: whining. Students who have not, say, bothered to come to class regularly are all-the-sudden conscientious, studious, respectful (Eddie Haskells) and pleading for some extra credit, some reconsideration, some break. Later, a few who are issued a grade they don't particularly like will contest it through official channels, insisting it was not what they earned. (This seldom happens in my classes, but it isn't uncommon on a campus.) All too often, I have yielded, negotiated, and in many ways compromised. Not that I've compromised with the student, but I've compromised my standards.
Of this, I say, no more. (There, it's documented here for me to reflect over later.) Just when did school come to be the place to teach wiley negotiation, anyway? For that matter, is it even our responsibility to teach responsibility? Shouldn't it simply be expected, like it should be in the workforce? I have a feeling that low expectations, all-around, have created this lack of responsibility.
When I was in college, if I did not show up, I knew I was a *uck up, and I took what came my way. Sure, that caused something of a checkered transcript, and I did retake about $6,000 worth of courses, but that was my fault. I was the one who decided to skip, not do homework, refuse to dissect something, sleep in, go to the lake...drop out. I had a choice, I was paying the bills, and I bore the brunt of what I had decided to do.
When I taught technical writing, I had absolutely no mercy. I was supposedly training would-be engineers on workplace expectations. I led the class like an employer. Expectations were high, and achievement was equally high. (Of course, they were on their last semester of a Bachelor's degree and already contracting for jobs that paid several times what I earned, so they had extrinsic motivation!)
That may not work for me here at the community college (note, I did not say Juco!) Instead, I have a new plan to implement: zero tolerance for absences, absolutely no late work, and absolutely no extra credit. I'll keep the policy that work can be submitted in advance of known absences and that anticipated absences (or absences excused by the institution) can be dealt with in advance. I'll have some kind of 'personal hardship' clause, to compensate for sudden deaths among family, etc. Otherwise, I'll front everyone a set amount of points (resembling sick leave). If they expend those points on material not submitted, etc. then it's gone. If, come the end of the term, enough of those points remain in their 'account' then they do not have to take my final exam. (Truth is, that's still extra credit, underneath it all, but it's going to save me an enormous amount of bookwork.)
Maybe that will thwart the whiners next semester.
Back to reality, outside the ivy walls of academia...personal responsibility is a bitter pill, a big burden. No wonder so very many people are repelled by it. By contrast, it seems so much easier to blame others, to litigate against others, to milk some corporate cash cow. The effects of this are far reaching, and all too often, these effects are reaching into my pocket (and no, it doesn't tickle). Medical and insurance rates are high, taxes go higher, and sometimes simple fear is stratospheric. For example, some schools no longer go on field trips. Some churches no longer do 'high risk' fundraisers like car washes. Even teachers must fear the litigious reaper--'heard of "academic negligence" or "educational malpractice" yet? If not, you will!
Just today, an employee of a major toy company told us of a situation I found incredulous. She works a customer complaint line. Someone called her, raised hell with her, for the caller had cut himself when attempting to open her company's toy. (To this point, I could sympathize with the caller, for I spent last weekend struggling with wires and tabs and bangles and what's-it's, just to remove my son's toys from their cartons.) He threatened, then, to sue her company. Result? the policy is that her company is to make every conciliatory effort to appease the customer. Her company paid damages, his medical bills, and something of an out-of-court settlement for the grievous affect the whole affair plagued him with.
Here's the kicker: that man had been opening said toy boxes with a steak knife. There was not warning on the box, he had said, that suggested he might use, say, a nail file or pen knife. Nothing warning him that steak knives, meat cleavers, chain saws or blow torches might endanger him, should he consider using them to open said box.
(Apologies to Genesis): This is the world we live in. This is the hand we're given (unless say, we cut it off with a wild steak knife). I say it's high time we start trying to make it a world worth living in. Maybe the first step is to own up to our own screw ups.
It's a personal goal. It's an instructional goal to impart on my students. It's a goal I have in parenting, too. Already, I tell my kid, "Hey, you have the choice here, pal. You can poop your pants and clean it up, or you can be a big boy and use the stool." If he's figuring it out, maybe everyone else can, too. (?)
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
Let the Devil in the Door
Another parenting threshold stumbled over--this time: video games. Yes, my 4 year old was given a video game for his birthday last weekend. No hard feelings, cousins who gifted him with this, but you must know (should you ever read this blog) that I am mortified.
Will this some day be my child's fate?
I know not all gamers are geeks (or worse). I know that many have avid gaming interests and are still interactive, socially conscious human beings. I also know, however, too much about the industry, the dark side, the evil-doers!
Even at the most fundamental, gaming can rob a family of togetherness, and I treasure that very highly. So, we had our first 'family meeting' last night. I explained to mom and the 1 and 4 yr olds that I had, admittedly, lost the battle on the abuse of television in my household. I had, in addition, contributed to other infringements on our time together. However, I firmly asserted, with plugging in this video game, there would be some rules: 1)Never play alone 2)Never play more than 30 minutes a day. Well, we'll see how it goes. I just wanted to document here that I had made some effort to stop what I anticipate will be a tidal flow of media influence and infringement in our home. There, I tried.
Will this some day be my child's fate?
I know not all gamers are geeks (or worse). I know that many have avid gaming interests and are still interactive, socially conscious human beings. I also know, however, too much about the industry, the dark side, the evil-doers!
Even at the most fundamental, gaming can rob a family of togetherness, and I treasure that very highly. So, we had our first 'family meeting' last night. I explained to mom and the 1 and 4 yr olds that I had, admittedly, lost the battle on the abuse of television in my household. I had, in addition, contributed to other infringements on our time together. However, I firmly asserted, with plugging in this video game, there would be some rules: 1)Never play alone 2)Never play more than 30 minutes a day. Well, we'll see how it goes. I just wanted to document here that I had made some effort to stop what I anticipate will be a tidal flow of media influence and infringement in our home. There, I tried.
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
Jane! Help, Jane!
Another guilt entry...maybe I need some kind of medication or something! Anyway, I just had a stimulating conversation with a student who's term project is on multi-lingual education. She shared results of studies that reinforce what we all know: kids learn very well when very young, then gradually have a harder time of it. Her project recommends teaching kids langages from birth. (A friend of mine taught her sons simple sign language, and they were communicating a year before they could articulate in words.)
Results of that study are compounded for me, right now, by a book I'm reading, Possessing Genius: The True Account of the Bizarre Odyssey of Einstein's Brain.
(It's a very fascinating account, btw, of not only the travels of his post-mortem brain, but also of the brain's development, etc...and I only paid a buck for it! Get yours at the Chisolm Trail
Back to guilt. I currently have two boys, ages 1 and (as of Friday) 4 years old. We do something of an above-average job of exposing them to good stuff, nurturing them, etc...however, we could do more. The window of opportunity for loading their potent little brains is already closing! Birth to 3 is the era of greatest development and learning for life. My oldest is already getting too old! It really gives me a sense of urgency.
So here I go: I think our world is topsy-turvy. I've finally developed priorities and principles, in my 40's, and this life does not reflect them. Okay, I suppose I value education, communication, critical thinking, an informed electorate, and thus, my job is not inconsistent with the above. However, none of that is a high priority.
At the top of my list, being a person of spirit, would be to have something of a spiritually driven life. Alas, it ain't there. Like eating right and getting enough sleep, somehow I must just figure the spirit can wait.
Next is my family, and sure, I get to spend more time with them than most folk I know; however, it's not enough and it's not high-octane. There should never even be a question of my love/loyalty, never a doubt, but when I'm not there, or when I hush someone so I can hear a news broadcast (or worse, a gag in a sitcom or some cruicial 'fact' in a crime drama)...when I act like that, where's my priority then? eh?
Somewhere high on my priority list is the well-being of my boys, and I do so very little to make'em smart.
Our culture does not prioritize these things. I've figured out why: you can't make money from it. Also, you can't manipulate people who live by principle, so 'best to keep them running. Ralph Ellison (just to get all literary for a second), in "The Invisible Man" as I recall, had an administrator passing word to a subsequent administrator regarding the main character. The note said (quoting, not to step on anyone's sensitivities here): "Keep that Nigger boy running." This is exactly what we are all doing to this day. We are so busily running on the treadmill or hamster wheel, we do not take time to live right, think right, be right. (This is to say nothing of 'righteous' btw, just plain right.)
I used to think, when I took the time, that this was some sinister, corporate plot. I'm not so inclined to believe it is, anymore. Like water, I think we all have a tendency to take the path of least resistance. We go with the flow. Sure, consumerism in America would suffer if we slowed down, but I really don't know that there is any (published or otherwise) plan/agenda to keep us fleet-of-feet.
Like George Jetson, sometimes I find myself screaming, "Jane! Help! Jane, get me off of this thing!"
Stop the bus, I want to get off.
If our culture really lived by values, 'family values' if you must, then wouldn't we, say, work like dogs for 20 years before having kids, saving all our money, then just clock out for 20 years, to be there for them as they grew? If not 20 years, some variation on the theme? In some parts of Europe, both parents get leave of up to three years when a child is born. Why not here? (Why didn't I plan for that? Because until I had kids, I didn't get it and I was selfish.)
I am not a single parent in school working two jobs. Nonetheless, like them, I feel my lifestyle is robbing me of my life, of being there and doing the best by my kids. I love my job, but I so wish I could do it from home, or somehow find a way to minimize my time away from the fam. This is all a cultural creation; one could clearly track its origins to the industrial revolution. Knowing that (and more) does not make the situation any more palatable. Not at all.
I'm going to cook something up on this. I'm going to beat the system. I just hope I can get it figured out before my boys have their own children!
Monday, November 06, 2006
A Peek at Peak Oil
Adjust your sphincter for this one!
Here I've been forewarning of the problems of prosperity, of profiteering, of media manipulation...and all along, it would seem, I've been fearful of trivial pursuits, rather than a bigger issue: peak oil.
I suggest you google or Utube the topic. Don't take my word for it.
Sources have long predicted that our oil supply is in peril. I can actually remember this from back in the 1970's. What I did not recall was a particularly chilling date range for the decline of our reserves. Some are now predicting it will dry up w/n the next 40 years. Now, maybe I didn't care back in the 70's (for a variety of reasons, not limited to youthful indestructability), but I care now. Though I may not be alive in 40 years, I bet my boys will be.
The sad thing, to me, is that this issue seems much like global warming, politics in general, etc...how is an individual to address it? I can no sooner stop global warming by recycling than I can make the political system honest with my vote tomorrow. I'd guess I'm not alone in feeling overwhelmed by the doom/gloom and the microscopic difference I might make.
Lately, however, I've been talking w/my wife about living by principles. If a person were to truly do that (an aware, enlightened person), then it wouldn't matter if that individual's impact would really affect the big picture. It would matter solely to him/her. That noted, perhaps I need to begin living by principle (see Prosperity entry) and not by denial.
There are respectable movements afoot, including relocalizing, which I find admirable if not a little hard to practice. I've spoken with like-minded friends for twenty years about some kind of alternative community. Last year I was on a kick of Tiny Houses, and I still am entertaining that (even as we are trying to build on to our current home to better accommodate 3 kids and a scrapbooking hobby). All of this seems better than simply wringing one's hands.
...and that's just the beginning. I know full-well that smoking is killing me, yet I do it, even aware that it supports a giant, heartless corporate empire all-the-while. I also eat fast food and prepared food packed with nastiness. Even when I eat well, I eat like an American, packing it in and moving to the living room television altar all-too-soon. I should, instead, be living the SlowFood lifestyle, and I know it!
AAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
It all goes back to me being rather too black/white, an absolutist. It drives family and friends crazy. I am seeking informed advice on how to cope with reality from you, gentle reader. What is one to DO in light of all the doom and gloom? How is one to sleep at night, feeling as if one's principles are intact? I seem never to be able to simply settle on 'good enough,' and that leaves me (when I allow myself to slow down and entertain ideas) very disappointed in myself. How can I feel I lead a good model for my kids, after all?
Your thoughts are coveted.
Here I've been forewarning of the problems of prosperity, of profiteering, of media manipulation...and all along, it would seem, I've been fearful of trivial pursuits, rather than a bigger issue: peak oil.
I suggest you google or Utube the topic. Don't take my word for it.
Sources have long predicted that our oil supply is in peril. I can actually remember this from back in the 1970's. What I did not recall was a particularly chilling date range for the decline of our reserves. Some are now predicting it will dry up w/n the next 40 years. Now, maybe I didn't care back in the 70's (for a variety of reasons, not limited to youthful indestructability), but I care now. Though I may not be alive in 40 years, I bet my boys will be.
The sad thing, to me, is that this issue seems much like global warming, politics in general, etc...how is an individual to address it? I can no sooner stop global warming by recycling than I can make the political system honest with my vote tomorrow. I'd guess I'm not alone in feeling overwhelmed by the doom/gloom and the microscopic difference I might make.
Lately, however, I've been talking w/my wife about living by principles. If a person were to truly do that (an aware, enlightened person), then it wouldn't matter if that individual's impact would really affect the big picture. It would matter solely to him/her. That noted, perhaps I need to begin living by principle (see Prosperity entry) and not by denial.
There are respectable movements afoot, including relocalizing, which I find admirable if not a little hard to practice. I've spoken with like-minded friends for twenty years about some kind of alternative community. Last year I was on a kick of Tiny Houses, and I still am entertaining that (even as we are trying to build on to our current home to better accommodate 3 kids and a scrapbooking hobby). All of this seems better than simply wringing one's hands.
...and that's just the beginning. I know full-well that smoking is killing me, yet I do it, even aware that it supports a giant, heartless corporate empire all-the-while. I also eat fast food and prepared food packed with nastiness. Even when I eat well, I eat like an American, packing it in and moving to the living room television altar all-too-soon. I should, instead, be living the SlowFood lifestyle, and I know it!
AAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
It all goes back to me being rather too black/white, an absolutist. It drives family and friends crazy. I am seeking informed advice on how to cope with reality from you, gentle reader. What is one to DO in light of all the doom and gloom? How is one to sleep at night, feeling as if one's principles are intact? I seem never to be able to simply settle on 'good enough,' and that leaves me (when I allow myself to slow down and entertain ideas) very disappointed in myself. How can I feel I lead a good model for my kids, after all?
Your thoughts are coveted.
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
Umph...missed that holiday.
Halloween has been a favorite holiday of mine since I was a young'un. This year, however, I was out sick. Didn't get to dress up. Didn't get to attend a single haunt. Didn't pass out candy. Didn't get to trick/treat w/my kids. *Sigh*
Like most celebrations, events, etc. in our culture, Halloween has become big business. I'm not going to cite facts here, but trust me, it's worth your investigation. I was part of the 'haunt industry' for a couple of years, 'was even swapping email and online chat jabber with some of the biggest names in the fright business. It is a fascinating field, and what's most fascinating about it to me now is that behind most large commercial haunted houses stands...not some geeky creep who wears face paint year'round...but a business man/woman. It takes a business minded individual to keep the turnstile turning, the cost-per-scare reasonable, and the promotional dollars balanced with the gallons of fake blood. (That, of course, would be a factor in why Toxic Terror, my haunted enterprise, is no-more. Actually, there's a lot to why Toxic Terror had a meltdown, not the least, the fact that I left for western kansas.) A haunt manager must also have a characteristic that makes them distinctly different from other entrepreneurs: sadism. At least some degree of a haunt manager's thinking must always be on how to freak out the customers in new and gruesome ways. (There again, I have a degree of wickedness, but I just don't think I ever had the constitution to creep people out as they would need.)
I digress. Actually, I don't know what I was writing about here, except a general lamentation that I missed Halloween.
Like most celebrations, events, etc. in our culture, Halloween has become big business. I'm not going to cite facts here, but trust me, it's worth your investigation. I was part of the 'haunt industry' for a couple of years, 'was even swapping email and online chat jabber with some of the biggest names in the fright business. It is a fascinating field, and what's most fascinating about it to me now is that behind most large commercial haunted houses stands...not some geeky creep who wears face paint year'round...but a business man/woman. It takes a business minded individual to keep the turnstile turning, the cost-per-scare reasonable, and the promotional dollars balanced with the gallons of fake blood. (That, of course, would be a factor in why Toxic Terror, my haunted enterprise, is no-more. Actually, there's a lot to why Toxic Terror had a meltdown, not the least, the fact that I left for western kansas.) A haunt manager must also have a characteristic that makes them distinctly different from other entrepreneurs: sadism. At least some degree of a haunt manager's thinking must always be on how to freak out the customers in new and gruesome ways. (There again, I have a degree of wickedness, but I just don't think I ever had the constitution to creep people out as they would need.)
I digress. Actually, I don't know what I was writing about here, except a general lamentation that I missed Halloween.
Friday, October 20, 2006
Prosperity
A potpourri of points of interest have recently congealed for me, to wit:
Most news aficionados realize that October 17th, 7:46 a.m. EDT marked the birth of the 300 millionth US citizen. What few attend to, however, is that we are well past that mark, already. According to the US Census bureau, allowing for births, immigrants, and deaths, our population grows by one every eleven seconds. At the time of this writing, the population is already twenty-thousand people larger.
Approximately 30 million Americans have below basic literacy skills, claims the National Center for Family literacy. That’s ten percent of the population. Having been a literacy tutor, and through conducting Labauch Literacy trainings, I’ve come to realize how vital literacy skills can be. One out of ten people you rub elbows with may not be able to read their prescription dosages or a simple map.
This is especially astonishing when considering how very much media we encounter through our every waking moment. I have just completed a media literacy unit in my composition courses, citing facts such as, “Four hours of television programming contain around 100 advertisements.” In our country, we are constantly pushed information from every media, yet some people cannot even read it.
All the while, in some remote parts of our world 30 or more children must circulate and share a single textbook. Some philanthropic organizations are doing their dead-level best to recycle books that otherwise end up in our landfills. [Check out www.betterworldbooks.com for example.] In some places, paper is at a premium, but here, it is not respected.
This week, my students chose to read Ursula LeGuin’s dystopic parable, “The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas.” The piece poses a difficult question to the reader: what wrong would you allow/tolerate to sustain a utopia? In the piece, one child is abused, tormented, and kept in a cellar; in exchange, everyone in Omelas lives an idyllic life, even though they are aware of the atrocity. Though written in the early 1970’s, the social commentary is fitting even today. How can the most wealthy, formidable nation on earth still have illiterate, impoverished citizens? How can its 300 million people deny the needs of the rest of the planet?
I have had a brush with altruism, having led an extensive program for college volunteers. Through that endeavor, I was able to try on many volunteer hats myself, addressing issues of poor housing, poverty, literacy, etc. I was able to sleep at night, knowing I had a hand in fielding thousands of volunteers to address these issues and more. Still, I was realistic, and like Ayn Rand, posed the question to myself and my students: “Is altruism truly possible?” In doing good for someone, are we not always reaping reward ourselves?
Oskar Shindler, a Czech born businessman profiteered from the German war machine during the Second World War by exploiting cheap Jewish labor. Through his exposure to the plight of those he abused, he ended up penniless, having saved over 1000 Polish Jews from almost certain death during the holocaust. Near the end of 1993 film, Schindler’s List, his character had a moment of regret, for he felt he could have done more. In an exchange with Itzhak Stern:
Oskar Schindler: I didn't do enough!
Itzhak Stern: You did so much.
[Schindler looks at his car] Oskar Schindler: This car. Goeth would have bought this car. Why did I keep the car? Ten people right there. Ten people. Ten more people. [removing Nazi pin from lapel] This pin. Two people. This is gold. Two more people. He would have given me two for it, at least one. One more person. A person, Stern. For this. [sobbing] I could have gotten one more person... and I didn't! And I... I didn't!
The passage above haunts me. Like Schindler, I feel that I have not done enough. Being responsible starts with being aware. Being accountable follows responsibility. I am fully accountable for the plight of the world. I am totally immersed in the dilemma of the American conscience. Still, I do little about it. Like Schindler, I feel I could do more. I think we all could do more. Prosperity comes at a great price every individual must weigh for himself.
Most news aficionados realize that October 17th, 7:46 a.m. EDT marked the birth of the 300 millionth US citizen. What few attend to, however, is that we are well past that mark, already. According to the US Census bureau, allowing for births, immigrants, and deaths, our population grows by one every eleven seconds. At the time of this writing, the population is already twenty-thousand people larger.
Approximately 30 million Americans have below basic literacy skills, claims the National Center for Family literacy. That’s ten percent of the population. Having been a literacy tutor, and through conducting Labauch Literacy trainings, I’ve come to realize how vital literacy skills can be. One out of ten people you rub elbows with may not be able to read their prescription dosages or a simple map.
This is especially astonishing when considering how very much media we encounter through our every waking moment. I have just completed a media literacy unit in my composition courses, citing facts such as, “Four hours of television programming contain around 100 advertisements.” In our country, we are constantly pushed information from every media, yet some people cannot even read it.
All the while, in some remote parts of our world 30 or more children must circulate and share a single textbook. Some philanthropic organizations are doing their dead-level best to recycle books that otherwise end up in our landfills. [Check out www.betterworldbooks.com for example.] In some places, paper is at a premium, but here, it is not respected.
This week, my students chose to read Ursula LeGuin’s dystopic parable, “The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas.” The piece poses a difficult question to the reader: what wrong would you allow/tolerate to sustain a utopia? In the piece, one child is abused, tormented, and kept in a cellar; in exchange, everyone in Omelas lives an idyllic life, even though they are aware of the atrocity. Though written in the early 1970’s, the social commentary is fitting even today. How can the most wealthy, formidable nation on earth still have illiterate, impoverished citizens? How can its 300 million people deny the needs of the rest of the planet?
I have had a brush with altruism, having led an extensive program for college volunteers. Through that endeavor, I was able to try on many volunteer hats myself, addressing issues of poor housing, poverty, literacy, etc. I was able to sleep at night, knowing I had a hand in fielding thousands of volunteers to address these issues and more. Still, I was realistic, and like Ayn Rand, posed the question to myself and my students: “Is altruism truly possible?” In doing good for someone, are we not always reaping reward ourselves?
Oskar Shindler, a Czech born businessman profiteered from the German war machine during the Second World War by exploiting cheap Jewish labor. Through his exposure to the plight of those he abused, he ended up penniless, having saved over 1000 Polish Jews from almost certain death during the holocaust. Near the end of 1993 film, Schindler’s List, his character had a moment of regret, for he felt he could have done more. In an exchange with Itzhak Stern:
Oskar Schindler: I didn't do enough!
Itzhak Stern: You did so much.
[Schindler looks at his car] Oskar Schindler: This car. Goeth would have bought this car. Why did I keep the car? Ten people right there. Ten people. Ten more people. [removing Nazi pin from lapel] This pin. Two people. This is gold. Two more people. He would have given me two for it, at least one. One more person. A person, Stern. For this. [sobbing] I could have gotten one more person... and I didn't! And I... I didn't!
The passage above haunts me. Like Schindler, I feel that I have not done enough. Being responsible starts with being aware. Being accountable follows responsibility. I am fully accountable for the plight of the world. I am totally immersed in the dilemma of the American conscience. Still, I do little about it. Like Schindler, I feel I could do more. I think we all could do more. Prosperity comes at a great price every individual must weigh for himself.
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
Nerd, Geek, Dork Test
As I am an advisor of an esteemed academic honorary, I thought the following was fitting:
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| Outcast Genius 78 % Nerd, 52% Geek, 52% Dork |
| For The Record: A Nerd is someone who is passionate about learning/being smart/academia. A Geek is someone who is passionate about some particular area or subject, often an obscure or difficult one. A Dork is someone who has difficulty with common social expectations/interactions. You scored better than half in all three, earning you the title of: Outcast Genius. Outcast geniuses usually are bright enough to understand what society wants of them, and they just don't care! They are highly intelligent and passionate about the things they know are *truly* important in the world. Typically, this does not include sports, cars or make-up, but it can on occassion (and if it does then they know more than all of their friends combined in that subject). Outcast geniuses can be very lonely, due to their being outcast from most normal groups and too smart for the room among many other types of dorks and geeks, but they can also be the types to eventually rule the world, ala Bill Gates, the prototypical Outcast Genius. Congratulations! America/Politics Thanks Again! -- THE NERD? GEEK? OR DORK? TEST |
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| Link: The Nerd? Geek? or Dork? Test |
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
Big block of unverified (but interesting) "history"
I apologize for the formatting--I'm lazy. Someone forwarded this to me, and in my quest to learn history, (see last entry), I figured it was a good start. Be enlightened!
The next time you are washing your hands and complain because the water temperature isn't just how you like it, think about how things used to be. Here are some facts about the1500s: Most people got married in June because they took their yearly bathin May, and still smelled pretty good by June. However, they werestarting to smell, so brides carried a bouquet of flowers to hide the bodyodor. Hence the custom today of carrying a bouquet when getting married. Baths consisted of a big tub filled with hot water. The man of thehouse had the privilege of the nice clean water, then all the other sonsand men, then the women and finally the children. Last of all thebabies. By then the water was so dirty you could actually lose someone in it.Hence the saying, Don't throw the baby out with the Bath water.. Houses had thatched roofs-thick straw-piled high, with no wood underneath. It was the only place for animals to get warm, so allthe cats and other small animals (mice, bugs) lived in the roof When it rained it became slippery and sometimes the animals would slip andfall off the roof. Hence the saying . It's raining cats and dogs. There was nothing to stop things from falling into the house.. This posed a real problem in the bedroom where bugs and other droppingscould mess up your nice clean bed. Hence, a bed with big posts and a sheet hung over the top afforded some protection. That's how canopy bedscame into existence. The floor was dirt. Only the wealthy had something other than dirt. Hence the saying, Dirt poor. The wealthy had slate floors that wouldget slippery in the winter when wet, so they spread thresh (straw) onfloor to help keep their footing. As the winter wore on, they added more thresh until, when you opened the door, it would all start slipping outside. A piece of wood was placed in the entranceway. Hence thesaying a thresh hold. (Getting quite an education, aren't you?) In those old days, they cooked in the kitchen with a big kettle that always hung over the fire. Every day they lit the fire and addedthings to the pot. They ate mostly vegetables and did not get much meat.They would eat the stew for dinner, leaving leftovers in the pot to getcold overnight and then start over the next day. Sometimes stew had foodin it that had been there for quite a while. Hence the rhyme, Peasporridge hot, peas porridge cold, peas porridge in the pot nine days old.. Sometimes they could obtain pork, which made them feel quitespecial. When visitors came over, they would hang up their bacon to show off.It was a sign of wealth that a man could, bring home the bacon. Theywould cut off a little to share with guests and would all sit around andchew the fat.. Those with money had plates made of pewter. Food with high acidcontent caused some of the lead to leach onto the food, causing leadpoisoning death. This happened most often with tomatoes, so for the next 400years or so, tomatoes were considered poisonous. Bread was divided according to status. Workers got the burnt bottomof the loaf, the family got the middle, and guests got the top, or the upper crust. Lead cups were used to drink ale or whisky. The combination would sometimes knock the imbibers out for a couple of days. Someonewalking along the road would take them for dead and prepare them for burial. They were laid out on the kitchen table for a couple of days and the family would gather around and eat and drink and wait and see ifthey would wake up. Hence the custom of holding a wake. England is old and small and the local folks started running out of places to bury people. So they would dig up coffins and would takethe bones to a bone-house, and reuse the grave. When reopening these coffins, 1 out of 25 coffins were found to have scratch marks on the inside and they realized they had been burying people alive. So they would tie a string on the wrist of the corpse, lead it through the coffin and up through the ground and tie it to a bell. Someone would have to sit out in the graveyard all night (the graveyard shift.) to listen for the bell; thus, someone could be, saved by the bell orwas considered a ..dead ringer. And that's the truth...Now, whoever said History was boring! Educate someone.
The next time you are washing your hands and complain because the water temperature isn't just how you like it, think about how things used to be. Here are some facts about the1500s: Most people got married in June because they took their yearly bathin May, and still smelled pretty good by June. However, they werestarting to smell, so brides carried a bouquet of flowers to hide the bodyodor. Hence the custom today of carrying a bouquet when getting married. Baths consisted of a big tub filled with hot water. The man of thehouse had the privilege of the nice clean water, then all the other sonsand men, then the women and finally the children. Last of all thebabies. By then the water was so dirty you could actually lose someone in it.Hence the saying, Don't throw the baby out with the Bath water.. Houses had thatched roofs-thick straw-piled high, with no wood underneath. It was the only place for animals to get warm, so allthe cats and other small animals (mice, bugs) lived in the roof When it rained it became slippery and sometimes the animals would slip andfall off the roof. Hence the saying . It's raining cats and dogs. There was nothing to stop things from falling into the house.. This posed a real problem in the bedroom where bugs and other droppingscould mess up your nice clean bed. Hence, a bed with big posts and a sheet hung over the top afforded some protection. That's how canopy bedscame into existence. The floor was dirt. Only the wealthy had something other than dirt. Hence the saying, Dirt poor. The wealthy had slate floors that wouldget slippery in the winter when wet, so they spread thresh (straw) onfloor to help keep their footing. As the winter wore on, they added more thresh until, when you opened the door, it would all start slipping outside. A piece of wood was placed in the entranceway. Hence thesaying a thresh hold. (Getting quite an education, aren't you?) In those old days, they cooked in the kitchen with a big kettle that always hung over the fire. Every day they lit the fire and addedthings to the pot. They ate mostly vegetables and did not get much meat.They would eat the stew for dinner, leaving leftovers in the pot to getcold overnight and then start over the next day. Sometimes stew had foodin it that had been there for quite a while. Hence the rhyme, Peasporridge hot, peas porridge cold, peas porridge in the pot nine days old.. Sometimes they could obtain pork, which made them feel quitespecial. When visitors came over, they would hang up their bacon to show off.It was a sign of wealth that a man could, bring home the bacon. Theywould cut off a little to share with guests and would all sit around andchew the fat.. Those with money had plates made of pewter. Food with high acidcontent caused some of the lead to leach onto the food, causing leadpoisoning death. This happened most often with tomatoes, so for the next 400years or so, tomatoes were considered poisonous. Bread was divided according to status. Workers got the burnt bottomof the loaf, the family got the middle, and guests got the top, or the upper crust. Lead cups were used to drink ale or whisky. The combination would sometimes knock the imbibers out for a couple of days. Someonewalking along the road would take them for dead and prepare them for burial. They were laid out on the kitchen table for a couple of days and the family would gather around and eat and drink and wait and see ifthey would wake up. Hence the custom of holding a wake. England is old and small and the local folks started running out of places to bury people. So they would dig up coffins and would takethe bones to a bone-house, and reuse the grave. When reopening these coffins, 1 out of 25 coffins were found to have scratch marks on the inside and they realized they had been burying people alive. So they would tie a string on the wrist of the corpse, lead it through the coffin and up through the ground and tie it to a bell. Someone would have to sit out in the graveyard all night (the graveyard shift.) to listen for the bell; thus, someone could be, saved by the bell orwas considered a ..dead ringer. And that's the truth...Now, whoever said History was boring! Educate someone.
Sunday, October 08, 2006
Greed, God and a Glimpse for me...
First, I'm a Phi Theta Kappa advisor, and we have a series of seminars on this year's honors study topic: Power. The full title is "Gold, Gods, and Glory: the study of global power" or something like that. I'm too busy to look it up.
MY take on things is changing. I'm like someone who's risen from kryo and I'm just now starting to "get it." Somehow, in my artful course dodging and slacking in school, I've managed to not pay attention to some very important stuff. Seems like the more I pay attention now, the more shocked I am at my ignorance.
This weekend, for example, I toured a nice little museum at Fort Leavenworth, featuring a historical perspective of that fort in the westward expansion. Within the exhibit, a display was offered, titled "Beyond Lewis and Clark."
At virtually every station of every exhibit, I remarked to my brother, "Hmmm, I didn't know that!" Of course, if I don't write it down immediately, I tend to forget again, for my brain has not been wired for detail and history. I do recall some of the bigger surprises, however. I won't share most, for these revelations make me seem really, really stupid. Here's just one to give you a flavor of my lack of historical enlightenment: I thought Lewis and Clark just went on the road alone together. I did not realize they had 46 in their expedition, that they were armed, that it was a very diverse group, etc. *blushing at my ignorance*
In addition to everything else I'm supposedly working on for myself, I think I may need to investigate taking a history course every now and again, now that I'm a "grown up" and would care to learn the content.
The most important general insight I gained from the exhibit is again something many historically hip people already know: our fair country has always had greed as a motivator. Lately here in this blog and elsewhere, I've been fuming about consumerism, affluenza, media literacy, etc...but you know what? It's nothing new. In fact, if anything, it may be a bit less powerful than in 1804 when L & C (and many other soldier-explorers) were charged by GOD and country to head west and take it all in. At least current consumerism and empire building has less to do with god's divine drive; it's more honestly all about the Benjamins.
The second insight I'm coming away with: The United States of America has been one brash, ball-sy, and downright fortunate country. Things happened very fast from the signing of the declaration to the exploration and development of the landscape--especially if you think of all the limitations (no phones, no cars, no swimming pools) in transportation, navigation and so on. Wow, those people were very aggressive and working very hard in just that 25 or so years. Again, this epiphany, that the US was developing so fast, is not news to anyone but me. In history class, I always bumbled through dates, never realizing anything about how it interconnected. Now, I'm starting (just getting a glimpse) to see how things fit together. Also, when I was young, 25 years seemed like forever, I'm sure.
Ah, thanks for reading. I just needed a place to confess my ignorance and document my new perspective on what I've ranted about so much: greed.
MY take on things is changing. I'm like someone who's risen from kryo and I'm just now starting to "get it." Somehow, in my artful course dodging and slacking in school, I've managed to not pay attention to some very important stuff. Seems like the more I pay attention now, the more shocked I am at my ignorance.
This weekend, for example, I toured a nice little museum at Fort Leavenworth, featuring a historical perspective of that fort in the westward expansion. Within the exhibit, a display was offered, titled "Beyond Lewis and Clark."
At virtually every station of every exhibit, I remarked to my brother, "Hmmm, I didn't know that!" Of course, if I don't write it down immediately, I tend to forget again, for my brain has not been wired for detail and history. I do recall some of the bigger surprises, however. I won't share most, for these revelations make me seem really, really stupid. Here's just one to give you a flavor of my lack of historical enlightenment: I thought Lewis and Clark just went on the road alone together. I did not realize they had 46 in their expedition, that they were armed, that it was a very diverse group, etc. *blushing at my ignorance*
In addition to everything else I'm supposedly working on for myself, I think I may need to investigate taking a history course every now and again, now that I'm a "grown up" and would care to learn the content.
The most important general insight I gained from the exhibit is again something many historically hip people already know: our fair country has always had greed as a motivator. Lately here in this blog and elsewhere, I've been fuming about consumerism, affluenza, media literacy, etc...but you know what? It's nothing new. In fact, if anything, it may be a bit less powerful than in 1804 when L & C (and many other soldier-explorers) were charged by GOD and country to head west and take it all in. At least current consumerism and empire building has less to do with god's divine drive; it's more honestly all about the Benjamins.
The second insight I'm coming away with: The United States of America has been one brash, ball-sy, and downright fortunate country. Things happened very fast from the signing of the declaration to the exploration and development of the landscape--especially if you think of all the limitations (no phones, no cars, no swimming pools) in transportation, navigation and so on. Wow, those people were very aggressive and working very hard in just that 25 or so years. Again, this epiphany, that the US was developing so fast, is not news to anyone but me. In history class, I always bumbled through dates, never realizing anything about how it interconnected. Now, I'm starting (just getting a glimpse) to see how things fit together. Also, when I was young, 25 years seemed like forever, I'm sure.
Ah, thanks for reading. I just needed a place to confess my ignorance and document my new perspective on what I've ranted about so much: greed.
Thursday, October 05, 2006
Charge!
So, this Foley guy is making all the news for his indiscretions lately. Yes, he held an important public office. Yes, anyone practicing such behavior needs to be held accountable...
...but for my money, I have issues with the fickle American media and consuming public. Soon, unfortunately, the Foley scandal, like others before it, will be yesterday's news and will likely be swept under the rug.
And, shouldn't we hold all our elected representatives accountable for more than their sexual follies and perversions? Why is it that we aren't all much more attuned to every elected official's participation in PAC's, lobbying tom-foolery, and their every-day voting on every issue? Why is it that C-SPAN has such dismal ratings (and why do the meetings have such low attendance ?)?
We get in an uproar when an occasional individual gets caught with his digital pants down (or someone takes an extra dip in the cookie jar) but sometimes, it seems to me, we should be equally passionate about less morally-charged indiscretions which are much more likely to affect our every-day lives.
I am the worst offender. I don't know who's who or what their up to, presently. However, I did have a good discussion with a former state representative last weekend, and I'm about to embark on citizenship! He suggested (for us in Kansas) to start with the League of Women Voters as an unbiased, informative site. I've got it bookmarked, and I'm going to gather a headful of knowledge. With that, I hope to be able to vote intelligently.
Join me, won't you?
...but for my money, I have issues with the fickle American media and consuming public. Soon, unfortunately, the Foley scandal, like others before it, will be yesterday's news and will likely be swept under the rug.
And, shouldn't we hold all our elected representatives accountable for more than their sexual follies and perversions? Why is it that we aren't all much more attuned to every elected official's participation in PAC's, lobbying tom-foolery, and their every-day voting on every issue? Why is it that C-SPAN has such dismal ratings (and why do the meetings have such low attendance ?)?
We get in an uproar when an occasional individual gets caught with his digital pants down (or someone takes an extra dip in the cookie jar) but sometimes, it seems to me, we should be equally passionate about less morally-charged indiscretions which are much more likely to affect our every-day lives.
I am the worst offender. I don't know who's who or what their up to, presently. However, I did have a good discussion with a former state representative last weekend, and I'm about to embark on citizenship! He suggested (for us in Kansas) to start with the League of Women Voters as an unbiased, informative site. I've got it bookmarked, and I'm going to gather a headful of knowledge. With that, I hope to be able to vote intelligently.
Join me, won't you?
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
Your SuperPower: Infallibility?
Infallibility would be something, wouldn't it? For those following the news, the Pope was hard pressed to explain himself recently when he "enraged Muslims in a speech a week ago in Germany quoting 14th century Byzantine Emperor Manuel II Palaeologus, who said everything the Prophet Mohammad brought was evil "such as his command to spread by the sword the faith he preached." Not to parse doctrine, (why would an infallible Pope have to soft-peddle or apologize?) I can't help but wrestle with infallibility for myself.
To be truly infallible a person would be incapable of failure or err. Wow, what I wouldn't give for that. To never make a mistake? Geez. It would seem, on the surface, a charmed life, eh? (Imagine a politician or [other] salesman who might be infallible--potent stuff!) Talk about someone to be trusted. "I'm putting my nest egg where Bob the Infallible banks, his investments are infallible." What a spouse an infallible person might make.
Then again, being infallible would be a tough role. It would be challenging to bite my tongue and resist saying, "I told you so" all the time. It would be frustrating when people ignored my advice or did not follow-through on my recommendations. It would just flat be tough being right all the time.
I guess I'm a person who revels in my mistakes. I learn from them. They're what make me...well, human. How could I learn anything if I were incapable of making mistakes to learn from? What a conundrum.
And while it might be nice to lean on an infallible person sometimes, I think they'd get to be tiresome company. I like a good hearty debate with friends. I wallow in the gray matter between the black and white of things. An infallible person would not see any grayscale, would they? They'd see (and say) it like it is, and that would be that. (Come to think of it, I've known too many people who must imagine themselves to be infallible...hmmm.)
I guess I don't envy the Pope, or anyone else who's burdened with the expectation of infallibility. Sure, a fella could hedge, maybe, and say, "Well, I'm only infallible in matters of X," but would that really buy you any slack? (I have my doubts, but when it comes to some definitions and labels, I'm something of an absolutist.) If I had to carve out my niche of infallibility, what could it be in? What would I want it to be in? Absolute certainty is attractive to some people, but...really...why? Where's the fun in that?
My greatest challenge is parenting, but I sure would not want to be an infallible parent, unless I could be a secretively infallible parent. Pity the child who had to live within the shadow of a know-it-all parent.
So I guess I should take more stock in being less-than-perfect, for not necessarily knowing everything. There's something to be said for being a work in progress. Those days when I wish I had all the answers, when I'm floundering over indecisions, I should just reckon with being human, after all.
To be truly infallible a person would be incapable of failure or err. Wow, what I wouldn't give for that. To never make a mistake? Geez. It would seem, on the surface, a charmed life, eh? (Imagine a politician or [other] salesman who might be infallible--potent stuff!) Talk about someone to be trusted. "I'm putting my nest egg where Bob the Infallible banks, his investments are infallible." What a spouse an infallible person might make.
Then again, being infallible would be a tough role. It would be challenging to bite my tongue and resist saying, "I told you so" all the time. It would be frustrating when people ignored my advice or did not follow-through on my recommendations. It would just flat be tough being right all the time.
I guess I'm a person who revels in my mistakes. I learn from them. They're what make me...well, human. How could I learn anything if I were incapable of making mistakes to learn from? What a conundrum.
And while it might be nice to lean on an infallible person sometimes, I think they'd get to be tiresome company. I like a good hearty debate with friends. I wallow in the gray matter between the black and white of things. An infallible person would not see any grayscale, would they? They'd see (and say) it like it is, and that would be that. (Come to think of it, I've known too many people who must imagine themselves to be infallible...hmmm.)
I guess I don't envy the Pope, or anyone else who's burdened with the expectation of infallibility. Sure, a fella could hedge, maybe, and say, "Well, I'm only infallible in matters of X," but would that really buy you any slack? (I have my doubts, but when it comes to some definitions and labels, I'm something of an absolutist.) If I had to carve out my niche of infallibility, what could it be in? What would I want it to be in? Absolute certainty is attractive to some people, but...really...why? Where's the fun in that?
My greatest challenge is parenting, but I sure would not want to be an infallible parent, unless I could be a secretively infallible parent. Pity the child who had to live within the shadow of a know-it-all parent.
So I guess I should take more stock in being less-than-perfect, for not necessarily knowing everything. There's something to be said for being a work in progress. Those days when I wish I had all the answers, when I'm floundering over indecisions, I should just reckon with being human, after all.
Sunday, September 10, 2006
Sensei Fumio Demura visited my farm this weekend, as part of the Valley Center Rec Commission Dojo's weekend of workshops. He is my father-in-law's sensei, and my father in law has been involved in karate for over 25 years.
I've met him and been on the outskirts of his visits and trainings for most of ten years, and I've noted something remarkable about him. I think it's characteristic of all truly great people: humility.
Here's a man who's given his life to his art, who travels the world on a never-ending whirlwind of training seminars, honors, etc... (they probably don't even allow him to use frequent flyer points, but if they did, he'd have millions of 'em). He has trained celebrities, movie stars, etc... The word is etc!
Still, when he's not out there training on the ring or mat or whatever, he's like Jesus was reported to be. He takes time to sit with children. He makes small talk with everyone. He once made me an oragami boat after I'd folded a frog for him--I still have the boat.
This is a man who could literally kill with a flick of his wrist, but he is kind, gentle, down-to-earth. There is much to be learned of true greatness, and I'm learning it seems to be infused with sincerity and humility. I may not have the patience for karate, but I'd like to think of the sensei's (is it plural?) as role models.
Friday, September 01, 2006
I've got issues
Currently, I'm wading through students' bids for research topics, controversial issues for argumentative/persuasive writing. I'm surprised at the duplication, especially when I warned folks that no two students would have the same issue approved. I find this bizarre, for it seems to me that everything has its controversy.
Lately, I've been exposed (via NPR, check it out) to several issues related to food and fuel. For example, we acknowledge being petroelum dependent, yet we do little/nothing to alter our lifestyles (still drive SUV's, still not supporting alternative energies, still shun public transportation, etc...). AND, more importantly, we seldom reckon with underlying uses of energy...I heard that 20% of our nation's energy needs are spent in the transportation of food products. The source suggested analyzing our own cupboards and refrigerators. They cited Iowa as an example: more than half of the average consumer's food was brought 1500 miles or more in order to show up on the table in Iowa. That is exceptionally silly, since all of the food products could (in season) be readily available locally, for Iowa is , of course, a fertile and productive region.
So what gives in Iowa? What grows in Iowa? Corn. Not ears of corn ending up as 'corn on the cob,' either. Most of the corn produced in Iowa is processed into....drumroll please...high fructose corn syrup (HFCS). Runner up for corn usage? Feeder cattle. Both HFCS and feeder cattle are horrificly wasteful, in terms of the amount of corn needed to get results. The ratio is something like 10 bushels of grain to yield 1 pound of meat. (That, in itself, is another issue--the way western diets are so meat-centered and thusly wasteful.) Those Iowa corn farmers are not often the hayseed, overall wearin' individualists we once knew. They are becoming large corporate enterprises with names seldom demonized: ADM, Monsanto, etc.
I operate a billing service for natural gas used in irrigation. I know quite well that it takes a good deal of natural gas (ie petro-resources) to water the corn that is then squandered when produced. It is not uncommon for a farmer who has only 1-2 circles of corn to use--get this--$100,000 in natural gas in a SINGLE MONTH. That figure is not even considered above, when I cited 20% of energy usage going to food transportation.
...so, what I'm saying here (in a fashion not to be modelled by my student readers) is that we are wasteful, of course, but more importantly, we are not mindful of our waste (in either petrofuels or food value). The media has our attention fixed on pump price, but there is much, much more to consider. Once one cocks a suspicious brow at the reflection, it is both painful and difficult to accept. "Oh, it's those rich oil barons." is much more simple than, "Oh my, it's me!"
Lately, I've been exposed (via NPR, check it out) to several issues related to food and fuel. For example, we acknowledge being petroelum dependent, yet we do little/nothing to alter our lifestyles (still drive SUV's, still not supporting alternative energies, still shun public transportation, etc...). AND, more importantly, we seldom reckon with underlying uses of energy...I heard that 20% of our nation's energy needs are spent in the transportation of food products. The source suggested analyzing our own cupboards and refrigerators. They cited Iowa as an example: more than half of the average consumer's food was brought 1500 miles or more in order to show up on the table in Iowa. That is exceptionally silly, since all of the food products could (in season) be readily available locally, for Iowa is , of course, a fertile and productive region.
So what gives in Iowa? What grows in Iowa? Corn. Not ears of corn ending up as 'corn on the cob,' either. Most of the corn produced in Iowa is processed into....drumroll please...high fructose corn syrup (HFCS). Runner up for corn usage? Feeder cattle. Both HFCS and feeder cattle are horrificly wasteful, in terms of the amount of corn needed to get results. The ratio is something like 10 bushels of grain to yield 1 pound of meat. (That, in itself, is another issue--the way western diets are so meat-centered and thusly wasteful.) Those Iowa corn farmers are not often the hayseed, overall wearin' individualists we once knew. They are becoming large corporate enterprises with names seldom demonized: ADM, Monsanto, etc.
I operate a billing service for natural gas used in irrigation. I know quite well that it takes a good deal of natural gas (ie petro-resources) to water the corn that is then squandered when produced. It is not uncommon for a farmer who has only 1-2 circles of corn to use--get this--$100,000 in natural gas in a SINGLE MONTH. That figure is not even considered above, when I cited 20% of energy usage going to food transportation.
...so, what I'm saying here (in a fashion not to be modelled by my student readers) is that we are wasteful, of course, but more importantly, we are not mindful of our waste (in either petrofuels or food value). The media has our attention fixed on pump price, but there is much, much more to consider. Once one cocks a suspicious brow at the reflection, it is both painful and difficult to accept. "Oh, it's those rich oil barons." is much more simple than, "Oh my, it's me!"
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