Airhead

My current roommate has this notion that I'm an airhead.  She tries to soften it by explaining that I'm like the absent-minded professor, but the truth is that I'm no professor--so if it's true, I'm just a flake.  In any case, I find myself heartily protesting.  It seems inimical to my identify as a solid, reliable brunette--not a spacey blonde like my older sister was in high school (sorry, Jen--you've since become the world's most pragmatic human, so no hard feelings).

I admit I certainly have my moments.  I was remembering today how I went to a friend's house a couple of years ago and we took off our shoes at the front door.  The next day, I noticed a strange pair of flip flops under the coffee table in the living room but didn't think much of it.  They were still there a few days later, and I remember feeling vaguely annoyed that my roommate hadn't moved them yet.  Anyway, a couple of weeks later, another friend contacted me to ask if I had her shoes--her nice, Reef flip flops--since they had disappeared at the door when she had gone to leave.  All that had been left had been a cheap pair of flip flops a size and a half too small for her.  Sure enough, I had worn her Reefs home and left them under the coffee table without noticing that they were too big and much nicer than mine--and then I had proceeded to forget that I had left them there.  Genius.

If you prefer watching videos to reading the links I embedded below . . .

Seriously.  Listen just for a few minutes.  It's hilarious and just, well, perfect.  I've run out of adjectives.

My Obsession

I have a thing for David Foster Wallace.  To my mind, he is the greatest writer of his generation (although of course I've not read anything close to all the writers of his generation).  His writing is uncanny, hilarious, transformative, illuminating: his review of a usage dictionary more persuasively defends prescriptive grammar than any linguist's work I've seen has been able to support either side (and, unexpectedly, he presents the most morally coherent viewpoint on abortion I've ever encountered--such parenthetical asides are an integral part of his style, and part of what makes him such a delight), his description of the Maine Lobster Festival is ruminative and ethically challenging, and his chronicle of the McCain 2000 campaign distills all the angst and disillusionment I've felt over the cynicism endemic to politics into one brilliant piece.  The measures of great writing are wide and deep, but no one one quite rivals him for creating that effect where, when you finish, you say to yourself "Yes, exactly!  Exactly that!"  But he does more than articulates your thoughts and, in fact, reveals the essence of something that has always lurked in your subconscious as ineffable for its strangeness or inscrutability-and then he leaves you thinking, thinking still--not by any means satiated, but now with a sharper understanding that only piques your curiosity further, and life with all its mystery becomes more profound, and therefore worthwhile--joyful in its complexity and even its sometime ugliness. That last sentence describes, in large measure, why I read, and this is why David Foster Wallace is my favorite.

Well, I'm back.  (Last words of The Lord of the Rings trilogy).  I stopped blogging because I didn't really see the point.  It seemed silly and self-aggrandizing to post about my life and meditations.  But the truth is that I've missed the occasion to publish my reflections and to refine my understanding by following an argument through in a somewhat organized fashion, as writing tends to require.  In some ways, readership, or lack of readership, is beside the point, but of course I wouldn't be publishing this unless it mattered to me in some way.  I think the medium of a blog appeals to me because it's available to anyone who is interested enough to find it and read it, but does not pester anyone who is totally uninterested.  Read on if you're intrigued--stop now if you're not.

Over my vacation, I jotted down ideas for posts.  More to follow.

Palin-free in February

I began writing this post a few weeks back, and then the Arizona shootings occurred and the context seemed outdated:

Am I making Sarah Palin popular? Gasp--the thought is irksome to the extreme. But I think that I am unwittingly doing just that by adding traffic to any Palin-centered news article. I confess--I find her gaffes (death panel distortions, notes on hand, Vice-Presidential interview disasters, etc, etc.) mesmerizing. I'm fascinated by her. It's like watching a train wreck--I can't pull myself away. I, with my self-righteous disdain for reality television, am riveted by the ultimate in reality T.V. spectacle--the Sarah Palin 24 hour news cycle. And so when I see she's made another one of her gaffes, I can't get enough. I have to read it!

New 2011 resolution: boycott Palin news.

So today in the Washington Post, I saw this editorial:

Amen, brother! I'm going to try it.

Dropping Out

I had a student drop out of high school today. Most students who drop out of school are, frankly, not missed much by the teachers. I always fight to keep these kids in school and help them get through their academic troubles, but the unfortunate truth is that by the time they get to that point we're both usually fed up with each other. I work in a system with the resources and the philosophy to help virtually any student without major cognitive or behavioral issues get through school. In other words, for students who want it badly enough, we'll help them find a way, and if you get someone who is dropping out, it's usually because that person is fed up with school. A perfect example was a student last year who did no work in my class and muttered unkind comments about other students under his breath. Saddened as I was by his decision to drop out, it was a relief to see him go.

Today's drop out was so different. This guy was fun to have in class: he contributed interesting ideas to discussions, he helped less proficient students, he he was talented and had great potential. I started to fear he would drop out a few months ago, but the counselors, administrators, and social worker have been doing a great job trying to help him with a dental issue and his financial difficulties. Needless to say, I was very sad to see this email his counselor forwarded me today:

HI, MR ____________ !!
THIS IS __________ ______________ _____________
THE REASON WHY I' M WRITING YOU IS BECAUSE I DECIDED TO LEAVE THE SCHOOL .
YOU KNOW , THIS IS SAD BUT I DON'T HAVE OTHER CHOICE
BECAUSE I HAVE TO SUPPORT MY FAMILY TOO IN MY COUNTRY AND I HAVE TO WORK HARD FOR IT .
I CALLED MY FAMILY IN ______________ AND THEY TOLD ME MY FATHER IS SICK AND I HAVE TO SEND MONEY FOR HIS MEDICATION .
I FEEL EMBARRASSED TO LEAVE THE SCHOOL ,BECAUSE U HELPED ME A LOT WITH MY TOOTH AND WITH YOUR GIFT CARDS , I HAD GREAT HOLIDAYS WITH THE MONEY THAT YOU GAVE ME, I KNOW YOU ARE A GREAT PERSON AS MRS. STOCK AND THE WHOLE SCHOOL
YOU ARE A REALLY NICE TEAM OF EDUCATION , I FEEL VERY PROUD TO WENT TO ________ ____________ HS .
I THANKFUL FOR EVERYTHING AND GOD BLESS YOU !!
THANKS YOU SO MUCH !! I WILL NEVER FORGOT YOU

What can you say to this? He's trying to do the honorable thing, and I hope and pray that he'll make it back to school some day when his family circumstances allow it.

Free as a Bird . . .

In my beginning ESOL class, I asked students to use a metaphor to describe how they feel at the end of the school day. Here are a few of my favorites:

"At the end of the day, I am a bird that can fly everywhere."
"At the end of the day, I am a prisoner who got free from prison."
"When I leave school at the end of the day, I'm a crazy dog in heaven."
"At the end of the day, I am flying in the sky until I get to paradise."
"At the end of the day, I am a deer jumping in the grass." (My personal favorite. I think it's time to teach this kid the word "frolic"!).

The most common response was some variation of number 2, the released prisoner. You can see what great love of learning I transmit to my students! I do confess that I work them pretty hard, and with bigger classes this year there is no room for goofing off and I run a tight ship. The prison thing might be going a bit far, however. . .