2010: An Odyssey (not in space, though)

I woke up this morning to a wonderful new-year themed Facebook note written by my friend Erin. In the note, she referred to the year 2009 as the year of transitions. This particularly resonated with me. It has been a difficult year for many people, whether due to the economy or more personal reasons. For myself, the idea of a transition year brings comfort because my troubles become reduced to the simple growing pains of change and growth. The negative aspects of 2009 have caused me to make the mistake of forgetting the positive. I believe it will help me to remember my year.

2009 has flown by. I started it working as a third grade teacher in Baltimore, living with two very close friends in Hampden. In June, following the end of the school year, I moved almost 3000 miles across the country to San Diego, California. For the better part of a year, I had been involved in a serious, long-distance relationship with my girlfriend Laura. I moved to be with her.

I remember getting the news that there was a hiring freeze for San Diego teachers. It was April, two months before my move. I was very unhappy about it, but not surprised, considering the state of the economy--particularly in California. Thankfully, my former administration gave me the recommendations I needed to land a job training teachers in technology-curriculum integration. It is a fantastic job and almost perfect, but I am contacted and work can be scarce.

Still, October and the first part of November were just busy enough to pay my bills. That makes me luckier than some. It's really been the last two months that have caused me to lose sight of the positive. Not having work or friends has provided many days of sitting alone and feeling hopeless. Add to this the death of my little dog Ratchett and the feelings of despair become amplified to the point of distortion, which is really what I need to take from all of this. My negative outlook is distorted, lacking proper perspective.

This blog is intended to help me gain that perspective, and I am filled with gratitude for anybody who takes the time to read or send me an email about it. In the meantime, I will try to remember something that happened on February. I was visiting Laura in San Diego, with a late Sunday flight scheduled to get me back in time for work. When the time came to fly back, I learned that school was going to be closed due to inclement weather. I was hoping that my flight would be canceled or delayed because I didn't want to leave my girlfriend.

As it turned out, my flight status was unchanged, but I decided to change it anyway--even though it was an extra charge of 175 dollars. All for a single extra day that we spent lounging around and going to get dinner at Shakespeare's Pub. It was perfect, though, and an excellent memory. From the dread 2009. So yeah. Life has some pretty great things to offer. I hope 2010 is filled with great things for all of you.

Happy New Year, friends!

One poem for a chilly Sunday

Click on me!

Click, whirrrrr . . . kill?

Have you seen this guy?

(photo from www.dailymail.co.uk)

His name is Ishiguro Hiroshi, and he is one of Japan's leading robotics experts. I have a sneaking suspicion that being a leading expert of robotics in Japan automatically gives that person the world title. In this photo, he has his arm around his android counterpart creation. This android has been designed by Ishiguro to respond to and mimic human behavior. I know more than a few people who would feel unsettled just looking at this picture. I know I am speaking in generalities, but it really doesn't seem like the Japanese get the same uncomfortable feelings toward robots.

I recently saw an episode of Vanguard called "Japan: Robot Nation," in which the observation was made that Japan has a very comfortable relationship with robots. This was partially attributed to the Japanese cultural trait of attributing personality to inanimate objects. Some allusions to Japanese pop culture was also made that I think have a lot to do with it. After all, look at these guys:

I am not thinking about all of this because of the Japanese, though; they are merely a source of comparison. No, it's on my mind because of the discomfort I have witnessed in Americans toward the same things that are getting Japan so excited. Again, I know I am speaking in generalities, but it appears to me that the USA, despite being a technologically-integrated society, still harbors some cultural technophobia. I've experienced this in conversations about things like the androids Ishiguro Hiroshi has created, as well as in the feelings of some of the teachers who I've trained to use classroom interactive technology.

For the last few months, this has been my primary occupation. I've noticed an interesting spectrum of interest from training participants:

1. excitement about the new opportunities this technology affords teachers

2. anxiety about learning to use the technology

and, on the radical other end of the spectrum,

3. fear about the unknown.

There have only been a few of that last group, but they are the most vocal and irrational. Recently, I had a teacher continuously interrupt my presentation in order to express how this is just the start of a dehumanizing of society. This was not just one time, this was several, and there was real fear in those words. This fear stemmed from a complete misunderstanding of what knowledge I was attempting to impart, and, as the training continued, it was clear that nothing was getting through to that teacher.

But right now even that is not what got me thinking about this subject. No, what got me thinking about it right now is something that just happened to while sitting in a coffee shop. I have the January 2010 issue of National Geographic with me. The cover story is entitled "Merging Man and Machine: The Bionic Age." I encourage anyone to check the article out. The cover itself is a close-up of a bionic prosthetic arm. I had actually finished the article a couple of days ago, but the cover caught the eye of a woman at the table next to mine.

"What is that all about," she asked, indicating the cover of my magazine.

"Oh, they talk to all these people who have had accidents and received bionic body parts."

"Really?"

"Yeah, it's pretty amazing actually. They actually connect the bionic parts to nerve endings, so people control their mechanical parts by thinking about their actions, just like with regular limbs."

"They can do that?"

"I guess so. It's still experimental. The article says it's changed their lives, though."

"I don't know, that seems real creepy to me. I don't think I like that at all."

I don't really think I gave a response to that, but for some reason it surprised me. I think the things in that article are extremely exciting. One quadriplegic man was able to feed himself for the first time in 15 years. Another woman who lost her arm in an accident can make a sandwich just as if she had both hands, controlling her bionic limb with brain impulses. The quality of life for both these people has been dramatically improved with the development of this technology, yet it causes apprehension in some people. Is this the same as the fear that I've seed in my trainings or the discomfort with Ishiguro's androids? I have no idea, but it makes me very curious. I wonder about American technophobia and whether or not pop culture plays a part in this, as well. Compare the earlier Japanese robot icons with some American ones:

Hal 9000

Maybe all of these observations are totally unfounded, but I think it's worth talking about a little bit. Whatever our feelings, from excitement to apprehension, about technology, there is no getting around how quickly and completely it is changing the way we live and the way we grow. Hopefully, we can adapt to a changing world without letting fear cripple us.

Check out the poll to show how you feel about this subject.

Let's start again.

It has been my intention to continue writing one of the two blogs I have already started. Both of those blogs were created with old work-or-school related email addresses and have been unavailable to me. Of course, this is mostly just an excuse as I could probably find some way of switching email addresses, but I couldn't be bothered. One of them needed a change-of-address form faxed in--forget that noise.

The other blog was more oriented around my former position as a classroom teacher. Now that I am no longer teaching, I feel like an impostor using an education blog. So now I am creating a new blog. I can put it off no longer. For posterity's sake, I am posting some of my former blog entries on this blog. I did that first, so they would appear below this one. In order to stem confusion, I also posted the date on which they were originally composed.

Six months have passed since I moved to California from Maryland. I don't know how to describe how it's been so far. The stress of moving--leaving career, friends, family, and a city I love--has probably triggered a defense mechanism in my brain that numbs reality enough to make days pass more quickly or, rather, unnoticed. This has been exacerbated by the lack of steady work or friends to help pass the time.

Since moving here, I was lucky to work as a trainer for an educational technology company called Promethean. Since I had experience using Promethean products in my classroom and helped with professional development at my old school, I got the recommendations necessary to land me the job. Unfortunately, it is contracted and the workload is feast or famine. Lately, famine has been the word. While the depleted bank account is definitely difficult to endure, it's the lack of busy days that has really stunted me. I don't know whether or not I'm experiencing depression, but I am definitely have had the lethargy and lack of motivation symptomatic of that ailment. So many days have passed where I am too out of it to do anything or even realize the hours are ticking by. This is a huge reason I need to attempt to keep up with a blog. I need to give my days some substance.

I've joined a writing group to help perk me up a bit. We have had three meetings and, so far, it's given me something to look forward to. I have also considered volunteering with some organization. There's one in downtown San Diego where I can tutor adults who can't read. I think I would enjoy that. I also need to get another job, or at least a supplemental one. The search has failed to yield anything promising; in fact, it's been dreadful. Of course, I don't need to tell that to anyone else who is also trying to find work right now.

In the meantime, hopefully I can deliver on my promise to myself to contribute to this blog. I feel better even now, having gotten this much out in the open.

On a last note, I did want to draw attention to my having retained the title of my old blog. The reason for the title is in direct opposition to my feelings of frustration. I will post my old greeting, as well. Look for more optimistic entries in the future!

The blog and education: exploring the possibilities (originally posted 2/24/2009)

One of the assignments I have in the class I am taking is to identify and explain how an educator can use blogging as a tool to teach one of the learning objectives listed in the Maryland Voluntary State Curriculum (VSC). The VSC (technically and thankfully involuntary) is a comprehensive list of skills and concepts that students K through 12 need to master before graduating high school, according to the state of Maryland. While scouring the multitude of learning outcomes, which are available to browse on www.mdk12.org, I came across a writing standard that perhaps sounds easier to teach than it really is. It is listed as follows:

Grade 3, Standard 4.0: Writing
Topic A: Writing
Indicator 4: Identify how language choices in writing and speaking affect thoughts and feelings
Objectives
a. Select words appropriate for audience, situation, or purpose
b. Acquire and use new vocabulary
c. Consider the effect of word choices on the audience

I tried to narrow this search down to one objective, I really did, but this one stuck out at me for a couple of reasons. First of all, It concerns the use of language or word choice, a writing trait that my students struggle with daily. It is important to note what is nicely stated in objective a: that the use of language will vary tremendously depending on who the author targets as readers, on what the situation is, and on what the author wants the reader to understand from the writing. This idea that one can completely change the meaning or force of communication via the choice of words is critical, and it is one that many students have a difficult time understanding.

As I write this blog, ABC News is analyzing the speech that President Obama just finished addressing to Congress and the nation. I am happy to note that, as I sit here trying to compose my thoughts on word choice, the analysts are pointing out how this speech is different from recent speeches because of word choice. In recent speeches, the president advocated the signing of the new stimulus package because failure to act would create a “national catastrophe.” In tonight’s speech, he said that failure to act would keep the economy “stumbling along for another decade.” Both examples are bad, to be sure, but the former seems far more dire than the latter. Tonight’s speech was designed to be more optimistic, more hopeful.

I decided to go off on that tangent for a real reason. It provides an authentic, important example of the power of word choice. That very authenticity is what is needed to teach our students this skill. They need to interact with their peers through (dare I say?) rigorous, thought-provoking written discourse. They need to experience first-hand how the choice of words can cause enlightenment or, on the other side of the spectrum, misinterpretation. Objective c, the effect of word choice on one’s audience, comes to mind here. It is with this that I think blogging can be an instrumental tool.

The blog offers a forum for the common person to make him or herself heard like never before. It is usually free of charge and can be read by the world at large. This can be a powerful motivator for students to write, and to do their best writing. Blog posts can then be discussed in class. Did the audience understand what was meant to be written? Was there any misinterpretation? What word choices could be used to make one’s point come across more clearly or forcefully? Student blogging, coupled with active classroom discussion, can teach this particular VSC standard very effectively.

Absolute Drainage (originally posted 7/13/2008)

Sometimes things happen at the worst possible times. At close to 12:15pm on Tuesday, July the 8th, the principal of my school walked into my classroom to see how things were going. It wasn't the total disaster that it could have been. Some of the students were out of their seats, but most of them were engaged in Mathematics centers that I have set up around the room. It was a bad time for him to walk in because, without his knowledge (and without, at the time, my own knowledge) my body was in the room, but I was nowhere to be found. Truth be told, I actually have very little memory of this, or any other part of the day, actually happening. July 8th was, for me, only a day of severe abdominal pain and blurred, drifting vision. If I try to recall that day at the time my principal walked in to visit me, it's like watching a home movie that was filmed by a gorilla—with the camera strapped to its head.

As it turns out, I was severely dehydrated and ended up in the hospital with saline fluid (Gatorade in a bag, according to the doctor) dripping into me intravenously. I don't know who else has had this experience, but it is both the worst and best feeling I can think of. Dehydration is the ultimate in shitty feelings—NOTHING works right and everything hurts. This goes for the brain, as well, so functions such as speech, vision, walking in a straight line—they are all impaired. To make matters worse, there was nausea involved, which really bugs me because the absolute last thing my body needs to do when faced with an internal drought is expel more bodily fluids.

It is the nausea, actually, when I was at last attended to by the doctor, that began the happy feelings. In order to inhibit the nausea, you see, I was given a sedative to relax my stomach muscles. The story goes like this: I was delirious already, and when I am in extraordinary amounts of discomfort I tend to fight it with humor. I wish I could remember exactly what I had said, but when the doctor who gave me the nausea-inhibiting shot came to stick me in the hindquarters with it, I said something that got us both laughing. Then, after I got the shot, she couldn't find the place she had stuck me to cover with a band-aid. I guess I didn't bleed at all, but that didn't stop her from poking around to try and make some blood bead up. The sedative started working around this time and I couldn't keep from giggling like a maniac—enough to make another doctor enter the room to inform us that we were having "too much fun" in there. She eventually gave up looking, evidently deciding that I didn't need a band-aid if I wasn't bleeding.

The goofy nausea medicine is one thing, but getting all juiced up again with that saline-solution IV is something else entirely. It is not a good or relieving feeling, exactly, but in a strange way I could tell that my body was very gradually being replenished with what it desperately needed. Combined with being drugged up, the world melted away leaving only the drip, drip, drip of the the saline solution from the IV bag into the tube. I needed two bags of that stuff, and I lay there for two hours, in one position, just watching those rhythmic drips for the entire time.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

This sounds like it could be the most dull thing imaginable—watching the proverbial paint dry, but at the time it was fascinating, like I was watching the sunrise on some distant world. That's what it was: unworldly. Of course, I was out of my freaking mind.

Now, this isn't the first time this has happened. It actually happened back in March for the first time, at an even more inconvenient time. I was giving the Maryland School Assessment (MSA) standardized test to my students. For those who don't know, third grade is the first grade of this type of testing in the state of Maryland. Therefore, it was my students' first experience with it and they needed me there to give it and put them at ease. It couldn't have been too good for them to see their poor teacher nearly pass out in front of the class. The dehydration then was far worse than it was this time. Even so, I am worried about the repeat offense. The doctors suggested that it could be stress related, which is just great. There's not much they can do in an emergency situation other than hydrate me, so I need to see my doctor. I have an appointment after school this Tuesday. Blah.

I have been starting and failing to complete blog entries about my summer school class and the curriculum, but my thoughts continually arrive at that hospital visit five days ago. Hopefully, I will be able to discuss my class soon. They really are an interesting little bunch. Until then, I need to get working on some of these other projects I have lying around. I hope this entry wasn't too muddled. Let me know if it was!

Training Day, or "How I Learned to Escape to My Happy Place" (originally posted 6/26/2008)

It has begun. Today I went to a professional development seminar intended to familiarize us with the Reading and Language Arts programs that we will be implementing during the five weeks of the summer program. Those of you reading who are teachers know what I am talking about when I say just how painful one of these things can be. For those of you who aren't teachers, imagine yourselves sitting in a large room full of other teachers where the comfort level is just barely above excruciating. The speaker, usually a representative of whatever publisher manufactured the latest revolutionary educational program that your school system decided to shell out the big bucks for, invariably decided to deliver the seminar as if to a class of second-graders, rather than to a room full of adults (presumably to model "correct" teaching for us incompetents). Often the speaker is barely audible or inarticulate. Generally, the audience is asked to participate in numerous and tedious activities that make what should be a thirty minute presentation three hours long.

Three.

Hours.

Long.

Today's training took that scenario to a staggering level. It took place in the auditorium of a high school gym. The sales representative (that's right, a sales representative) who went through the components of our reading program spoke in such a way that we only heard every second word—moving several rows closer made no difference. Everything that we could make out suggested that a better training would consist of us sitting in our own classrooms and reading the materials ourselves. It was at some point halfway through (or at least it could have been halfway through; it's impossible to tell) that a group of teachers from one particular school realized that they had an earlier version of the program that didn't include some of the features that the speaker was talking about. This caused considerable confusion among both the audience and the speaker, who obviously had not prepared for this. I wish I could say how they solved the problem, because some of my colleagues and I just got distracted and chatted about how we would be using this program in our school, with our very limited three-hour time slot.

That wasn't the end, however. After sitting around in idleness for a while, a second speaker talked about two other, completely different, parts of the Language Arts program. She was a resource teacher, and, as such, a far better speaker. We could actually hear her. Unfortunately, the size and scope of the program left us far more confused as to what we were actually supposed to be teaching when school starts on Monday. It goes something like this: we were shown a comprehensive program that explicitly states a three-hour time slot. Well, in our school we are doing both Math and Language Arts, so that gives us—after getting kids settled and feeding them, among other time-consuming issues—maybe an hour to fit in that three-hour program. How this is going to happen, I don't know. We left there with more questions than answers, which I guess we'll have to get addressed tomorrow.

I'm getting the feeling that this is a very confused entry with no real flow. That is because my brain is still reeling from sitting in that gym all morning after three hours of sleep and listening to utter nonsense. Also, I am drinking some Gatorade that tastes vaguely of nail polish remover. I apologize if I sound scatterbrained.

I will put an end to this entry with a simple request: if anyone knows any head-clearing or stress-relieving techniques that I can try between now and Monday, please let me know via comments. Thanks!

UnAmerican Idle (originially posted 6/23/2008)

Summer Vacation. Everyone tells me to enjoy it. Unfortunately, it doesn't take much for me to get bored.

If I am not somehow occupied—physically, mentally, psychologically, however—my brain starts to encumber any attempts at simple and idle rest or relaxation by bombarding me with memories, thoughts, old quotations, images, songs, movements, movies, monsters, gods, books, articles, poems, ruminations, and any number of phenomena ranging from the banal to the bizarre that my synaptic responses—fatigued with tedium—can invent to thrust upon me. Television is a potential distraction for my gray matter. I try to occupy my brain with channel surfing in much the same way as some parents use the idiot box to occupy their children in order to allow them time to do the dishes. Unfortunately, unless there is a marathon of Mythbusters or Dirty Jobs on, my brain is not easily fooled by the limitations of my broadcast options. So, I look elsewhere for occupation.

If I concentrate really, really hard, I can focus the influx of random synaptical illusions flooding my brain into something constructive. I can't help but picture a funnel collecting an ocean of thoughts in one end and projecting a tiny beam of creative energy out the other end. Since my summer officially began last Monday, I have finished the script for the first chapter of a graphic novel I've been working on, I've listed ideas and themes for a children's book that I'd like to begin soon, I've finished my journal (which reminds me that I need to buy another one), I've read two books, I've walked all over my lovely city, and I've started this blog.

I have also tried to get out to see friends who I rarely get to see during the hectic school year. A couple of close friends of mine were kind enough to invite me to their house in York, Pennsylvania for two days last week. I got to finally meet their new son Cooper:

He is probably the happiest baby I've ever met, and that is actually saying a lot (I've met many babies). I am pretty happy with how much fun we had together. His parents were happy, too, because they got to get some other stuff done while I watched him. Cooper, by the by, is named after the character of Special Agent Dale Cooper from the early nineties television show Twin Peaks. Awesome.

I have two-and-a-half more days of this complete idleness before I start preparations to teach at my school's summer program on Thursday. I know it is probably annoying for some of you who are reading this to hear me complain of having days off. I do hear a lot of friends say, "must be nice . . ." Is it unAmerican of me not to want to sit around on my ass doing absolutely nothing? Maybe; maybe not. Either way, I am actually looking forward to standing in front of a classroom of students again in one week.

To Start with a Story (originally posted 6/17/2008)

Every story needs a beginning. Well this beginning is going to have a story. I enjoy shaking things up like that. This is the first entry of my new blog.

This is the true story of a small moment involving one of my students. We'll call her Mary.

This moment took up a few short minutes in one very long day, yet it kept me energized and motivated for late-night grading and planning. Mary is a very kind girl. That seems like a simple sentence, but it holds a lot of meaning. She is selfless and considerate—polite without being boring. She thinks of others before herself, a quality seen all too rarely within my school walls. This is made more notable because her life is no cakewalk. Alcoholism and other forms of abuse are no stranger to her family. She has seen and spoken of things that, by rights, she shouldn't have ever experienced as an eight-year-old girl. She is also homeless, and the time between meals is often far too long.

That's a lot of exposition, but I wanted to show the resilience of a young girl who can remain an amiable human being in the face of adversity.

On April 24th, Mary came up to me as I was getting students lined up to go to one of their Specials classes; I believe it was Physical Education. She handed me a piece of paper, folded in fourths, and told me that it was a gift for me. I accepted it without opening it and continued to transition my class to the gym.

Upon returning to my classroom to make the most of my planning period, I took the folded paper from my pocket and opened it. It was a drawing:

This might say something about me, but I interpreted the drawing to be of a tombstone with a flower on the grave. I showed it to a colleague, and she saw the same thing: a flower on a grave in front of a tombstone. There was even what appeared to be a purple ghost floating in the background. I was curious and a little concerned about why Mary would draw me such a picture. Perhaps it was something as simple as a death in her family and she needed a way to express herself. Perhaps not. I decided to ask her about it.

I borrowed her from P.E. so I would have some time to talk to her, and I took her to a semi-private corner of the office. The administrative assistants were busy at their desks and paid us little attention. I approached the topic on eggshells.

"I got your drawing. It looks like you spent a lot of time on it! How were you feeling when you drew it?"

"I was just thinking."

"You are very thoughtful. What were you thinking about?"

"I was thinking about taming something. I was thinking about the Prince's responsibility."

Here is where I have to explain myself. When I took this position, I was excited to spend some time reading great books to my students. The book I was reading at this time was Antoine de Saint Exupéry's The Little Prince. It's one of my favorite books. For those who don't know, one of the themes of The Little Prince is rediscovering the uniqueness and wonder inherent in the seemingly ordinary. It's a return to childhood thinking, a way to infuse oneself with vitality of spirit. The little prince in the story did this by taming, and being tamed by, a rose on his home asteroid.

Every day, as I read this layered story that has meant much to me since I was a child, I hoped that my students felt something similar. They definitely enjoyed the story, but sometimes it is hard to tell exactly how they are receiving a message. My thrill at having discovered the true intent of Mary's drawing was immediate, and I hope not overly apparent.

"Oh, is this the flower in our story?"

"Yeah, it's the prince's flower!"

What I thought was a tombstone was the jar the prince had placed over the rose to keep her safe. The fresh grave was merely the brown of the prince's home asteroid. I thanked Mary for her drawing and sent her back to P.E.

This moment made me face the impact that negative elements have on me. Why did I instantly interpret Mary's drawing so morbidly? I learn as much or more from my students as they learn from me. Their lessons also seem infinitely more relevant to the human condition than the curriculum that focuses on robotic testing. Mary reminds me to look for the positive—I hope I can live up to this lesson. Thankfully, every time I now look at the drawing I see only a rose lovingly protected by a glass jar.