The Gates of Academe

Moving Day

2007-09-02T22:41:00.000-04:00

Change is good, and so this blog is moving to another site. The goal is to upgrade in capability, to manage my blogging more efficiently, and to present a product with a little more "shine". Please bear with me as I learn, experiment, and study.

This is the new site - please bookmark accordingly

Hidden Costs III

2007-09-02T10:21:00.000-04:00

A while back, when I was new and fresh in the academic adventure, I expressed my dismay about the cost of textbooks. As professors are wont to kindly say, they are helping us "save" money by continuing to use older editions of texts. Such beneficence!

My calculus text is out of print. The beloved 4th edition of Calculus, Early Transcendentals 4th Edition (1999), has been replaced by the 5th Edition (2002). The 4th edition is required, at my school, for three sequences of calculus. Most science majors are required to take the first two sequences, and a small subset must take all three (and then some!).

Think about it. The school requires its students to use a finite resource, i.e., the textbook. There is a limited supply that, by definition, decreases each year. Some books wear out after too much abuse, some books are kept by students for future reference, and some are held by other students for at least 3 semesters. The number of students enrolling in calculus classes is a constant. It make sense to assume that a constant demand for a shrinking resource induces a stress on the supply, and price, of the product. In the college textbook world, I think that means that the price the market will bear for used textbooks is higher than if the supply was infinite. Our professors are saving us money by forcing us to buy used textbooks, but demand and pricing are driving prices higher. I think we are trapped in a paradox.

There are several students in my calculus class that still, after 2 weeks, cannot buy a textbook. I would have gone insane by now.

I do want to buy my favorite accessory, the student solutions manual, which I have used with great effect in earlier math classes. Guess what? The publisher no longer supports the 4th edition student solutions manual. Why should they?

Today, I found, after a long search, a student solutions manual. If you followed the link, you know that some enterprising person has managed to put the solutions manual (at least the questions and solutions) on the web. You will also see that the basic service is free (good enough for me), but the premium features require a subscription. Looks like the marketplace has provided yet another source of profit for someone other than the publisher and the school.

Maybe, when I take an economics course, I can study this market in more detail. Maybe our economics department should, too, and forward the results to our school officials. Or maybe the textbook market is like the health insurance market, just too complex for simple students to understand and too unwieldy for bureaucrats to manage.

Black Google

2007-08-31T15:34:00.000-04:00

Random bits of data stored in my memory from the last few days of computer programming and discovery informatics:

1111 1111 1111 1111 is the hexadecimal code that makes your monitor display the color "white". It means, among other things, that every "switch" is turned on to create the color. Logic (and my professor) says that other colors require fewer "ons" to create a color, and so requires less energy. That's important to some people, as noted here. Note that my scheme used to black, until a few days ago, and now that I know this, I may go back. Or, I might consider this.

A possible explanation of what my major Discovery Informatics is really about:

"We are drowning in data while searching for information".

When I have a better explanation of the program, you, dear reader, will be the second to know (wife gets to hear the news first).

The Wired Classroom

2007-08-30T16:32:00.000-04:00

It's not as if Calculus isn't hard.....it's complex, difficult, and tough, all wrapped up in an enigma (I know, I stole the metaphor). It takes all of my focus and concentration to take notes, comprehend, and try to stay with the professor. And since this class immediately follows another class held in the far corner of the campus, I hardly have time to get from one to the other before the professor starts in. When I do arrive, the class is very full, and so my arrival just at the start means my choice of seats is whatever is left. Which is usually the seat in the back, at the door. Which is hard enough on my old eyes, as I squint in a vain effort to read the hieroglyphics written in an unintelligible scribble.

But what really makes the class hard is that the poor choice of seating means that I am generally surrounded by either the disaffected or those students who already know everything. Whatever the case, both sets apparently have to stay in constant contact with boyfriend, girlfriend, mom, dad, or whomever. Yes, dear reader, I am constantly surrounded by the "text-messagers" ..... that vile assemblage of folks that cannot not communicate while in class.

Texting only seems to be a problem in those classes where the professors either don't declare a firm no-phone policy or they are part of the subset of teachers who seem to feel that the getting of their giving is not their responsibility, but the student's.....which means that the texters are pretty much free to do their thing. Apparently the consideration of their classmates is not important. Is there a protocol? Is it appropriate to ask the 19 year old next to me to cease and desist so that I can learn?

Input appreciated.

Starved

2007-08-28T17:53:00.000-04:00

Our Miss Teen South Carolina has apparently missed more than her geography class:

"Eat me some hamburgers," she responded. "I haven't eaten hamburgers, French fries or hot dogs in three years, and I just want to see what it tastes like."

The attached photo reveals the virtue of such a diet:

The rest of the story here.

State Pride

2007-08-26T18:24:00.001-04:00

The most viewed clip on YouTube.

A great day in academic history for our state.

Advantages of a Mistress

2007-08-26T09:38:00.001-04:00

Read today on the internet:

An artist, a lawyer, and a computer scientist are discussing the merits of a mistress.

The artist tells of the passion, the thrill that comes with the risk of being discovered.

The lawyer warns of the difficulties. It can lead to guilt, divorce, bankruptcy. Not worth it. Too many problems.

The computer scientist says, "It is the best thing that has ever happened to me. My wife thinks I am with my mistress. My mistress thinks I am home with my wife. And I can spend all night on the computer!"

H/T Theo Spark

The Calculus of Marriage

2007-08-25T11:41:00.000-04:00

A few weeks ago, someone interested in my adventure asked me what Calculus is. I had to honestly reply that I had no clear idea, but that I thought it might have something to do with the rate of change in a curve. Well, one week into the class, I cannot precisely define the term, but I can begin to approach the answer from a few different directions.

From my textbook: "We have seen that the concept of a limit arises in trying to find the area of a region, the slope of a tangent to a curve, the velocity of a car, or the sum of an infinite series. In each case the common theme is the calculation of a quantity as the limit of other, easily calculated quantities. It is this basic idea of a limit that sets calculus apart from other areas of mathematics. In fact, we could define calculus the part of mathematics that deals with limits".*

Today, while mowing the lawn and trying to avoid heat stroke, the door of understanding partially opened. In calculus, so far as I have learned, it is very difficult to precisely measure the value of a limit. We can try, by calculating values that are very close to that limit, and then assuming a value for the limit.

Just like my marriage. I can get very close to the line (limit), but I can't completely get there. Why, or why not, is the unknowable in each unique marriage and is not a part of this discussion. In this case, the domain and range of the function are limited to me and her and our relationship. She knows exactly how far to go, or which button to press, to elicit a response from me; she knows exactly how far to go within the bounds of my known behavior. She carefully goes no further. What lies beyond is predictable, but not knowable. The same is true for me.

As I cut the grass this morning, I worked until I thought it was not safe to continue. I know my limits (a function of age, able to be determined with a relatively simple linear equation) and have no wish to go beyond the known (life on Earth). Calculus surrounds us, and plays a central role in our lives. Who knew?

*Calculus - Early Transcendtals, 4th Edition, James Stewart, 1999.

On a Tangent

2007-08-23T20:09:00.000-04:00

This is pretty funny. If you like, I could calculate the slope of the secant line and thus give you an approximation of the slope of the tangent line...perhaps providing the direction in which he went.....

H/T Indexed

Cognitive Prosthesis

2007-08-23T18:42:00.000-04:00

While reviewing my notes from the first day of my programming class, I came upon this jewel from the professor"

"The personal computer is a cognitive prosthesis".

Before today, I thought of my pc and internet access as my drug of choice, but I now realize it is more than a drug. It is not a cause of dependency, but, rather, a tool that allows me to do more than I can do in my natural state. It is an artificial attachment to my being that provides that which I did not have before.

A brief example: While checking e-mail in the college library this very day, the young lad sitting at the adjacent terminal turned to me and asked if I was a professor. "No", I said, "I'm a student, too. But what do you need?" "Well, I'm writing this paper, and I don't know whether to use lay or lie." Quick as a wink, I went to my Google home page, typed in "lay lie" in the search window, and in a micro-second got the search results. I showed the grammar web-site, with the correct usage, to the fellow and concluded the lesson. In about 30 seconds. Could I have done this 2 years ago? I don't think so.

Cognitive prosthesis............hmmmm.

Notes

2007-08-23T15:04:00.001-04:00

Observations from the first few days:

Timing is everything - Last semester (my first), all of my classes were early. That was fine with me, as I got in and got out every day before Noon. But, I now realize, it gave me a distorted sense of the campus scene. This semester, most of my classes are in the middle of the day....and it didn't take me too long to figure out that today's college student doesn't like to get up early. The throng of students took me by surprise, until I figured out the timing thing. I think I like early morning.

Getting what you pay for - Today, the second day of Calculus, the professor was late. After about ten minutes, the murmuring began, and I could hear the question: "How late can he be before we can leave?" To which there seemed to be a variety of opinions. At fifteen minutes, the exodus began, and the classroom very quickly emptied by half. Sure enough, the professor showed up a few minutes later, and we dove into the definition and calculation of limits. What about the half of the class that was absent? Too bad, so sad. Professor @($ acknowledged in our first meeting that he had no attendance policy, except for tests and homework to be turned in, so I guess a goodly proportion of our class will take him at his word.

Now, as a former world record holder for classes cut, I have no ground to stand on. But, I also understand that the only person losing anything when I cut a class was me. I have placed a higher value on me since those dark days, but, apparently, some choose to follow in my footsteps. Maybe things will turn out better for them.

Paying Attention - While waiting for the professor, I overheard a few of my classmates discussing math and their ability to focus. Said one: "If someone can explain it to me while I can focus, I get it. But class is too long, and I just lose my focus. I really study best with Adderall". Well, I certainly remember Black Beauties from the old days, but I don't think that's what she had in mind. Times have changed.

This Ain't Kansas, ToTo

2007-08-22T17:39:00.000-04:00

The new semester begins! New faces, new subjects, new buildings. Most of my classes are held in a different area of the campus, and it seems that the sidewalks are more crowded, the faces all unfamiliar, and the intensity just a little bit greater. None of these courses are part of the general education curriculum; all are populated with folks that know where they are going (for the most part) and how they want to get there. And the getting ain't easy....

It's way too early to judge how the semester will progress, although I will admit to a certain amount of trepidation as I sat, like the hawk's breakfast, in the calculus class. Even there, though, after a few minutes of confusion the lights went on and I actually understood the professor.

There's still plenty of time for confusion, discouragement, angst, and the like, but, for now, ...my state, like to the lark at break of day arising from sullen earth, sings hymns at Heaven's gate...that then I scorn to change my state with kings. (Sonnet XXIX).

The Return

2007-08-19T19:21:00.000-04:00

With pre-calculus receding rapidly in the rear-view mirror of my academic experience, and an eight day trip to Montana providing a wellspring of pleasant memories, the Fall Semester rapidly approaches. I can't wait to get started.

With a pretty heavy load of courses, including computer programming, statistics, calculus, and the intro course for Discovery Informatics, the semester will provide the introduction to the subjects that are the foundation of the degree that is my goal. I can't wait to get started.

The books are in the bookcase, the software loaded on my desktop. The syllabi that are available have been printed and put in their appropriate course folders. The pencils are sharpened, the hole punch cleaned, new pens in the pen/pencil holder, and a semester supply of notebooks, folders, and paper bought and stored. Parking thought out, tuition paid.

Did I mention that I can't wait to get started?

The Harvest is In

2007-08-14T13:26:00.000-04:00

Lolling in a stream, many miles from metropolis, received today an e-mail from my professor, advising success in the pre-calculus enterprise. Success, of course, being a relative term, but one whose current definition includes a score high enough to allow continued progress in the Discovery Informatics curriculum for at least one more semester.

Meanwhile, there are trout to catch.......

They Sow the Wind, and Reap the Whirlwind

2007-08-08T08:04:00.000-04:00

The last day of the extended torture session known as Pre-Calculus was yesterday. As we all know, however, the only easy day was yesterday. Tomorrow, we "reap the whirlwind" as we take our final exam.

Little did I know how difficult the class would be. At my school, the class is, during the regular semester, a 4 hour class. That means that it meets 4 times per week, instead of three, which is the rule for most other classes. Bottom line, we have to cover 25% more material in the same amount of time as the rest of the summer denizens. Add to the mix the fact that last week we ventured into the labyrinth of trigonometry. Any concern I may have had about that subject was confirmed when a professor, in my presence, uttered a common vulgarity upon learning that I had never been exposed to the unit circle, SOHCAHTOA, or the Law of Sines. You don't know how badly that made me feel.

Honestly, at this point all I want is a passing grade so that I can move on. Will I need some of this knowledge? Apparently so, but three of my Fall classes have this course as a prerequisite, and I really don't want to have to re-jigger the lineup at this late date. We're in survival mode here, folks.

Any prayers, thoughts, intercessions, or other forms of divine intervention would be greatly appreciated.

SOA CAH TOA

2007-08-02T18:52:00.000-04:00

For a moment today, I thought that our pre-calculus class had been moved to another room and I didn't get the memo; I had accidentally found my way to a Chinese language class. My class-mates, recently generated by our public school systems in this great state, were reciting with great gusto the answers to impenetrable questions fired from the blackboard. The chanting reminded me of news-clips from the classrooms of Soviet Russia, or Red China, where smiling students loudly chant learned-by-rote answers to the big questions of the curriculum. The professor would write trigonometric equations on the board, turn around, and the class would, as one (less one), chant the value.

It was all I could do to take notes that might be of some use as I try to decipher the information tonight and into the morrow.

In a moment of frustration, I reached out to my wife and bared my soul. A few sympathetic murmurs, and she went back to work.

A few moments ago, the phone rang. It was an associate of my wife, a scientist, who has enjoyed watching my pain during the return to school. Although the connection was poor, this is what I heard her say: "socato". I went here and found this:

Students often make use of mnemonics to remember the relationships and facts in trigonometry. For example, the sine, cosine and tangent ratios in right triangles can be remembered by representing all three rations at once as a string of letters; SOH CAH TOA (sine-opposite-hypotenuse cosine-adjacent-hypotenuse tangent-opposite-adjacent), which can be pronounced as a single word. In addition, many remember similar letter sequences by creating sentences that consist of words that begin with the letters to be remembered, so that they are remembered in the correct order. For example, to remember Tan = Opposite/Adjacent, the letters TOA must be remembered in order. Any memorable phrase constructed of words beginning with the letters 'T, O, A' will serve, and often sentences are constructed to remember all three ratios at once.

I have just found the Rosetta Stone.

Dear Sweet Jesus....

2007-07-30T15:56:00.000-04:00

So, somehow, I've made it through two tests in pre-calculus. Let's just say that it is unlikely that I will get an "A" in this class, but a "B" is still in the cards. Failing is looking somewhat more remote, but remains a possibility. A review of our test this morning reveals that I have the basic concepts firmly under control, but the details are bedeviling. For example, asked to find "all exact zeros" in a polynomial, I perfectly executed the determination of possible rational zeros, using my new best friend, the TI-86 calculator, selected my zero, and divided the factor into the polynomial. That yielded another polynomial, which I used to solve for "x" by plugging values into the quadratic equation. I got an answer that included a rational and two irrational numbers. Looked good, so I moved on. Only thing is that I reversed the sign of the constant in the second polynomial. You college grads will know what that means. The professor grudgingly gave me one point out of six for the process. Disaster jerked from the jaws of success.

But all that is, as they say, but a distant memory. I will revisit my old friends next week for the Final, but for now, it is on to trigonometric functions, a subject that I have never seen, never been taught, don't understand the concept of, and, which,according to my professor, will be the most difficult part of the course.

Does anybody have a gun?

An Audobon Moment or Life is Short, Brutish, and Hard

2007-07-27T14:43:00.000-04:00

Enroute to the chamber of horrors otherwise known as pre-calculus, not-ready for our second test of the session but reconciled with my fate, I happened upon a recently dead pigeon. The carcass lay in a bed of its own feathers, like some sort of modern presentation of pigeon tartare, carefully placed in a location sure to attract maximum attention from the morning promenade of students moving to class from the land of nod.

At first, I took the particular placement and arrangement as some other pre-calculus student's imprecation, voodoo like, about the state of affairs. It is, after all, very unusual to see the random display of the natural world's dark side about the bucolic, but urban, campus. The only dogs I see are fellow students, as in: "what's up, Dog", and we are graced with a significant feline presence, constantly purring and rubbing, but with the usual disdain at the end. There are some of the porcine persuasion, a few of whom are clearly feral, and I have encountered a snake or two. But real live nature? More rarely seen even than students of my age, who mostly move around at night or on the edge of the campus, seeking cover at every opportunity.

Loitering at the scene, unwilling to enter the classroom and endure the blather of other, even more confused students, I took station a short distance away and tried to clear my mind, in the hope that some kind of enlightenment about the use of the natural log in solving equations of x would enter my being and become a central part of my essence.

Alas, the entrance to Nirvana remained closed, and I turned my attention to the outer world. In a random movement of eyes and head, unlike the instinct of my simian brothers, with whom I grow closer with every passing class, I looked up. There, perched on a tree providing cover to the belvedere, sat a gi-normous hawk! Apart from being buzzed by furious mocking birds, it sat absolutely still, with its raptorian visage focused intently on the breakfast that had been interrupted. One might even say that it looked a little peeved.

All became clear. A part of nature not normally seen, the feeding ritual, had taken place in our small nature preserve. A creature near the top of the food chain had dined on a member of some lower level in the hierarchy of existence and needs. A raptor had killed a pigeon. Life continued, each with its role fulfilled.

With that powerful thought, I marched into the classroom and sat down for my test.

Whoa, Nellie!

2007-07-24T19:58:00.000-04:00

Let's just stipulate for the record that taking a 4 hour class, during summer school, is not for the faint-hearted. Of course, I understood the challenge, objectively, and comforted my self with confident little murmurs of encouragement, saying affirmations to improve my self-confidence and mental attitude, ALL BEFORE PRE-CALCULUS STARTED! What a boob I was, thinking that I could motivate my way through a class that our professor calls a "gatekeeper class" for all us so-called science majors. I would prefer, now, to use a more accurate term to describe the class - we are being culled, like so many excess yearling bucks in the ever growing herd of domestic deer. Yes, the herd has thinned noticeably in the first two weeks, and the survivors look like those brave souls enduring Hell Week in a SEAL training program. We are gaunt, confused, exhausted, and running on fumes. (There are, naturally, some savants who are gliding through this exercise on their way to double majors in Bio-Chemistry and Genetics, but, like God, we mortals are not aware of their earthly existence. Why are they in this course but for a little practice and to blow the curve for the rest of us).

The material is not difficult to understand, but the detail and complexity are killers. When the old pressure starts to boil, this tired brain loses what little flexibility it possesses, and stupid, careless errors ensue.

This is a fair test for the next level, dammit!

The Hard Stuff

2007-07-09T18:56:00.000-04:00

Up to this point in the return to college, the academic work has consisted of general requirements or reviews of material to refresh my aged brain about the intricacies of mathematics. Less understood at the outset, but now perceived as just as important, was the social work, or the development of a college "mindset", which I would describe as 1) establishing a comfort level in this new environment, 2) acquiring the ability to understand what each professor wants from the best students, and 3) developing a strong confidence in my abilities as a student.

The development of these two aspects has gotten me to this point. I have a good GPA. I have demonstrated to the administration and myself that I can handle the "introductory" level of the work. I can never be a "student", in the traditional sense, but I can be a part of the college world. I belong.

Summer II will test my ability to handle a slightly higher level of mathematics (pre-calculus). I am trying to excel in a course that carries 4 hours of credit (which means the workload and class time is heavy). When I discussed taking this class in summer, a high level math faculty member very casually mentioned to me that, for people in my major, this class in summer should not be a major challenge.

So, this is the next test. If this class turns out to be more than I can handle, then maybe I should not be in the major that I have committed myself to. Failure modifies the goals, substantially.

Failure is not an option.

Perturbations in the Field

2007-06-25T17:10:00.000-04:00

Cross posted on my other blog.

Momentum

2007-06-22T14:00:00.000-04:00

There really hasn't been to much to post about in the last few weeks, at least in regard to the college life. The Maymester (firehose) session.....well, enough about that. Lots and lots of writing, which served a very useful purpose, but I don't think we'll try that again.

Summer School is a blast. One course; sure, it's a lot of classroom time, but the professor and my fellow students all seem to want to be there, it feels a lot less formal, and the learning is just as good. Sometimes it's hard to stay on top of the work, but the learning skills are restored, and I can catch up if I suffer a lazy day or two.

What's neat is seeing all the recent high school graduates that are cycling through the two day orientations, with parents and younger siblings along for the ride. I can't look at them, all young and wide-eyed, trying to appear cool - but still drinking it all in, without wondering what they are thinking.

Yes, it's a little slow around the campus, but we need the rest before we climb back on the beast in August.

Maybe This Explains It........

2007-06-19T07:16:00.000-04:00

Maybe this article can explain the thought processes of the brave admissions committee that agreed to let me re-enter the world of academe: admissions in favor of males admissions.

An excerpt:

Many colleges heavily favor male applicants to prevent women from dominating their student bodies, a U.S. News & World Report study of admissions data of 1,400 colleges shows. Women tend to be better students than men in terms of grades and the kinds of extra-curricular activities, like theater or music classes, that admissions officers look out for. If the same proportion of male applicants were accepted as female applicants, men would become a small minority at some small liberal-arts colleges.

The small liberal-arts colleges in between, however, have to heavily tip the scales in favor of male applicants in order to maintain a gender balance. For example, in 1997, William and Mary’s admissions rates for men and women were close: 51% for men and 43% for women in 1997. Following a steep rise in applications, the gap had widened last year to a 44% rate for male applicants versus 26% for women. Meanwhile, the proportion of female undergraduates has fallen to 54% last year, from 60% a decade ago.

Then there is this nugget of advice:

Steve Goodman, an independent college counselor, advises male students to emphasize their maleness in applications by submitting pictures or playing up the sports they play.

If I had to compete with either of these students, I might still be putzing around in my unfulfilling job.....

In Memory of My Mother

2007-06-10T12:01:00.000-04:00

I do not think of you lying in the wet clay
Of a Monaghan graveyard; I see
You walking down a lane among the poplars
On your way to the station, or happily Going to second Mass on a summer Sunday--
You meet me and you say:
'Don't forget to see about the cattle--'
Among your earthiest words the angels stray.
And I think of you walking along a headland
Of green oats in June,
So full of repose, so rich with life--
And I see us meeting at the end of a town on a fair day by accident,
after the bargains are all made and we can walk
Together through the shops and stalls and markets
Free in the oriental streets of thought.
O you are not lying in the wet clay,
For it is harvest evening now and we
Are piling up the ricks against the moonlight
And you smile up at us -- eternally.

By: Patrick Kavanagh

Lepanto - Watershed Event

2007-06-07T13:05:00.000-04:00

In our history class last semester, Professor P... carefully stressed the importance of watershed events in history; literally events that changed the course of history. Today, in the second half of the sequence, Professor G.... casually remarked that the Battle of Lepanto was the watershed event in European history. Now, to me, that's a pretty bold statement about the sweep of history and the tides of men's affairs. But consider the facts:

Islam was the controlling force for religion and government in the world, possibly excepting China, which was very self contained. It provided a unifying force that tied cultures, languages, races, and mercantile goods to a huge swath of the global population.
The Islamic empires, either the Caliphate, or its heirs, the Ottomans, Mughals, and Safavids controlled the crossroads of the world, and thus controlled access to the riches of the Orient (spices, precious stones, etc) demanded by the growing populations of Europe. The ability to control that access caused enormous wealth to flow into the coffers of those empires.
The European nations, forced to travel long distances for goods from the Orient, turned to the seas as an alternative to overland travel. In looking for the Orient, they unintentionally discovered the Americas. The wealth, in raw materials, of the Americas gave the Europeans equal footing with the Islamic empires in terms of purchasing and spending power.
Had the Ottoman Turks defeated the European coalition (see, they used to be able to fight together, at least in the short term), the Turks would have been able to control the Mediterranean. From there, they would have been able to move into the Atlantic. Had that happened, argues Professor G..., the Islamic navies would have been in a position to interfere, if not control the Atlantic trade routes.

As Professor G.... said, imagine a South America where the predominant language is Turkish, or Arabic. One battle, in 1571, involving at most 75,000 men, changed, possibly, the entire history of the world. At least for 500 years.

Pretty neat stuff.

Facebook for Old Farts

2007-06-04T12:47:00.000-04:00

Please click on the link above for some background.....

Only last weekend, I was.... not ridiculed, that's too strong, instead let's say... given an incredulous look by a contemporary and his college-aged son upon their learning that I am a card-carrying member of Facebook. To the father, it may have crossed his mind that I am engaged in either a) lecherous behavior, or b) trying a mite too hard to be a college student. To the son, I probably come across as a hopeless nerd, wishing to be something I clearly am not, nor ever will be. Neither is exactly true, but I do feel slightly uncomfortable at the notion of imposing my desire for friendship on a total stranger who happens to be, say, 19. I mean, just the thought of such a request creates, in the back of my mind, images of my face on Dateline, as Chris Hanson interrogates me. But, no matter. The journey is the destination, and I will observe, as closely as I can, the aspects of the college community that were missed in the fog of my earlier career.

I mean, no one looks askance when I pull out my AARP card.....it's just another group, isn't it?

State of Art

2007-06-04T08:58:00.000-04:00

Roger Kimball, writing in The New Criterion, levels a blast at the state of art in the art world. The blogsite Powerline follows up with a scathing post about a new exhibit at Dartmouth. Here is a brief excerpt from the New Criterion piece:

A third additional element in this sorry story has to do with the decoupling of art-world practice from the practice of art. Look at the objects on view in “Wrestle”: almost none has anything to do with art as traditionally understood: mastery of a craft in order to make objects that gratify and ennoble those who see them. On the contrary, the art world has wholeheartedly embraced art as an exercise in political sermonizing and anti-humanistic persiflage, which has assured the increasing trivialization of the practice of art. For those who cherish art as an ally to civilization, the disaster that is today’s art world is nothing less than a tragedy. But this, too, will pass. Sooner or later, even the Leon Botsteins and Marieluise Hessels of the world will realize that the character in Bruce Nauman’s “Good Boy, Bad Boy” was right: “this is boring.”

In my Maymester class, we explored the world of book reviews and literary criticism. It was fascinating to see, in the flow of time and events, the tension in the literary world as new generations of writers came to dominate the scene. As products of their cultural milieu, created by the swirl of events that influenced their world, much as the events of today do to us, each new generation sought a clean break with the sensibilities of their immediate predecessors. In the study of literature, we might read Thomas Hardy and then James Joyce; both are appreciated for their talent and their contributions to the art. Yet, to read the criticism of the period as Hardy wanes and Joyce waxes is to read of bitter exchanges, hurtful words, and utter disdain as the tectonic plates of their cultures clashed. The angst of yesterday has been replaced by today's understanding of their complementary nature.

So it seems that the current dissatisfaction with the direction of art may spring from the same forces. But, having moved art into a political context, one has to ask if there can ever be, even after the passage of time, a reconciliation between the concepts of beauty and truth, since politics cannot seem to be a constant truth, which, to this amateur, is a hallmark of art.

Review of A Dance Recital

2007-06-01T11:19:00.000-04:00

Cross posted at Close Reading

The art of writing reviews is art. In addition to providing information about a particular performance and perhaps a critical analysis of the work, reading a review is an opportunity to observe, and appreciate, the artistic elements of the review itself. In other words, the reader is given two performances to consider; often the merit of one clearly outshines the other.

Without implying that the recital, last night, performed by Shen Wei was any less impressive than the review of that performance in today's Post & Courier, the craft of the review struck this amateur reviewer as unique and interesting; using the form of the present tense was a bold and imaginative stroke that effectively conveyed the power of the performance.

Understanding that the appreciation of art is an intensely subjective experience renders moot the consideration of objective criteria when it comes to appreciating the reviewer.

Another Vacation

2007-05-31T15:27:00.000-04:00

Today marks the end of Maymester. Two weeks of classes, four hours at a time, every day. And did I say anything about the HUGE amount of reading and MANY papers that had to be written? Of course, anyone who takes a Maymester class ought to understand that the workload is going to be heavy. Here's the bottom line: it was a great course, and I was, once again, caught up in the energy of learning that seems to permeate every class I take. Thank you, Professor H.......

Now, to attend to the grass, the dirty windows, the files scattered everywhere in my study center (2nd bedroom, begrudgingly allowed by the wife), and some rest and relaxation. School starts again on Tuesday, and I'll be raring to go!

Web 2.0

2007-05-30T13:25:00.000-04:00

Fascinating

Sea Turtles

2007-05-30T09:05:00.000-04:00

My wife works for the South Carolina Department of Natural Resources (DNR) in an administrative capacity. One of the programs had a spot of bother and she was able to help them through some small logistical crisis. In return, the program folks, who are involved in the Sea Turtle program (link here), named one of their tagged turtles in her honor. The program captures, tags, and releases sea turtles and then tracks their movements for as long as the tracking device transmits location data. "Our" turtle, or to be more precise, "her" turtle, loitered in the coastal waters of Florida near Cape Canaveral for a while, but recently has fled North (like all good seasonal residents of Florida do). The tracking data is here. It is amazing to see the range of these magnificent creatures, and to see the commitment of the people that are trying to preserve the species. They need our support.

Remainder - Tom McCarthy

2007-05-25T08:09:00.000-04:00

Cross posted.......

Remainder

Tom McCarthy has received much acclaim for his first novel, and rightly so. The writer-turned-artist has crafted a story that is unique, provocative, and intelligent. While pushing the envelope, he has used the medium of the novel to explore the questions of reality, memory, authority, and obsession in a unique way. Like the epic theater movement, founded by Bertolt Brecht in the early twentieth century, Remainder presents an idea and asks the reader to make his or her own judgment about the story; here, put another way, is a further definition of the Brechtian approach: “Epic theatre assumes that the purpose of a play, more than entertainment or the imitation of reality, is to present ideas and invites the audience to make judgments on them.”

And, thus empowered by the author, we are free to arrive at our own evaluation of Remainder. Able to observe, dispassionately, the struggle of a disturbed man battered by both misfortune and great fortune, for whom the re-creation of his past becomes the driving force in his life, we can, with clarity of vision and lack of emotion observe the search for self by a man who has neither. We can watch as he relentlessly marches towards madness, taking others with him, in the pursuit of the unobtainable. Or, we can regard the novel as an absurd work of art whose purpose is the minute examination of the inner processes of a disturbed man, providing no meaning for us other than as an abstraction of a bizarre idea. Like Brecht, McCarthy presents an idea; the rest is up to us.

James Wood, Harold Bloom, and the Aesthetic Approach

2007-05-23T09:12:00.000-04:00

Cross posted at close Reading:

A morning without class! What a relief... immediately tempered by the awareness that a morning which includes a leisurely patrol through both the newspaper and the blogosphere must be followed by an afternoon of intense study of an opera of the epic theater school, requiring notes for a review, and, alas, an evening of writing a review of Remainder. The machinery of education never stops, grinding inexorably to its conclusion regardless of the wishes of the student.

In the morning's peregrination was an e-mail of a book review, courtesy of Powell's, that was enjoyable, but which also had,in the sidebar, a review of The Road that I had not seen before. In our classroom study, we have come across the name James Wood and, seeing that he was the author of said review, I dove in. Believing in the total immersion method of learning, I also resolved to read the review using the technique (at least as I understand it) advocated by Francine Prose in her wonderful book Reading Like A Writer.

I liked Wood's review for his analysis, his appreciation for the words and the style, and for an absence of the politicization that one sees in some reviews/criticism in other writing. Perhaps, in a moment of clarity, I liked it because I agreed with it (thus injecting my bias, but so what?). Having the luxury of a few moments to invest in an investigation, I searched the blogosphere for information about Woods. Quickly found was his interest in the aesthetic approach to criticism, also an approach favored by Harold Bloom. Given that we have so far seen many different approaches to reviews and criticism, it occurs to me that the first, and maybe most important, lesson of this course is that we should be free to say whatever we think, or feel, about the subject of our reviews. Now erased from the memory banks is the notion that the formulaic approach to writing papers, that forms the syllabus of introductory English classes, is the preferred approach to writing. It is as if we have been provided a foundation upon which to write correctly, and now we are freed to write from our hearts instead of with our minds.

Interesting.

The Reader

2007-05-18T15:07:00.000-04:00

Virginia Woolf:

I have sometimes dreamt, at least, that when the Day of Judgement dawns and the great conquerors and lawyers and statesmen come to receive their rewards - their crowns, their laurels, their names carved indelibly upon imperishable marble - the Almighty will turn to Peter and will say, not without a certain envy when He sees us coming with our books under our arms, 'Look, these need no reward. We have nothing to give them here. They have loved reading.'

"The Second Common Reader"

The Firehose

2007-05-18T14:51:00.000-04:00

Maymester=10 days=1 semester.

Drink deeply from the firehose. Don't choke.

Liberal Arts Education=too many good courses/not enough time=drink deeply from the firehose.

Why did I wait so long? Why did I waste all those years?

Drink deeply from the firehose.

When Smoke Gets In Your Eyes

2007-05-17T18:07:00.000-04:00

A gray sky, blocking the sun, carrying the scent of a far distant forest fire. A perfect accompaniment, and a wonderful example as our class reads The Road, by Cormac McCarthy. Here is his description of the strange cast of the sky and sun that he must have meant to use for a day like today:

Like the onset of some cold glaucoma dimming away the world.

Which is what I thought was happening to me when I first walked outside. Thank God a student told me what was going on, else I would have been convinced that the sudden onset of blindness was underway.

The Modern College Experience

2007-05-16T14:38:00.000-04:00

Classes have begun for the short, but very intense session known locally as Maymester. 11 days of class, 4 hours per day, 3 books, 1 peformance, too many reviews to count, and BLOG ENTRIES! That's right, we have to put up our very own blog for this class, wherein we will post our reviews of the books and performances. We will share our links amongst each other with the intention that we will engage in spirited discussion about the many topics of our research. It could result in a critical free for all or it could turn into a two person pillow fight.......time will tell, and you should know by now which way I hope it will go. Either which way, this is a great way to teach a class; traditional subjects shared in a very modern way. What's next in the academic experience?

The journey is the destination.

An "A" .....Not An "A-"

2007-05-14T18:34:00.000-04:00

How can I describe this? Let me start by saying that I did well this semester. I was surprised by the grades in two of my classes, because I thought that I had not done well enough on the final exams to push me to the best grade. But Providence, 100% attendance, participation, and every extra credit opportunity taken seemed to push me over the top. I did, however, earn an A- in a course that I thought I should earn an A. That was a disappointment, and frankly left me feeling that I had not accomplished what I had set out to do.

I stewed for a few days, wondering where I went wrong, and then concluded that I must have really screwed the pooch on the final. Today, I e-mailed my professor. I wanted to know what happened on the final, with the notion that I would learn a lesson about studying for exams.

Lo and Behold........a data entry error has been made, and the grade earned in the course is, in fact, an A! It will be corrected and will reflect in my transcript in the next few days!

I feel like I just won the lottery, that the hard work, nay, the obsession of the semester has paid off. I am so damn happy I can't stand it. There is a lesson in this.......never quit trying, and know where you stand.

Can I do it again? That's the challenge........

Gifts for Hard Working Students

2007-05-14T09:05:00.000-04:00

Think you might want to give your hard-working student a gift to kick off school? Maybe serve up a small dose of motivation laced with some humor? Or, better, maybe a taste of what skills might be acquired NOW to be of use in the FUTURE? As in what your first JOB might require?

Herewith an idea: The Workaholic Survival Kit.

Presented by One Who Knows........

Tricks of the Trade?

2007-05-14T08:19:00.000-04:00

With the start of Maymester (tomorrow), it is time to shift the mental gears of this old jalopy. Idling along in neutral for the past ten days, it's into first gear today and then into the higher gears as of tomorrow morning. This race (like all the others) will go, not to the fastest but to the surest, and so it behooves this student to be ready, rested, and raring to go.

This mental tip seems like a good idea. And for all those pups in class who will think the old man is losing his mind and desperately looking for a escape route, well, what they don't know won't hurt them. For sure.

H/T:The Evangelical Outpost.

The Second Kick of The Mule

2007-05-08T09:21:00.000-04:00

With a semester under my belt, only slightly the worse for wear, and with a few days of recuperation behind me, it is time, again, to look forward. Next Monday will see the start of Maymester, the short, intense two week period where students take one course, meet every day for four hours, and try to cover, and learn, the material of a semester. In the spirit of Admiral Farragut, I charge ahead, regardless of the consequences, into the world of upper level English. Perhaps brainwashed is too strong, but it is fair to say that, in a moment of weakness, I fell for the call of the Sirens. Unlike Ulysses, there is nothing to prevent my destruction on the rocks besides my native strength and determination. Having learnt that my love of reading and writing is not always equal to the task of having to write and read, I face the possibility of much hard work. But it is from that process of "having to do" that much can learned. Thus the decision, and thus the edginess of thought that accompanies the understanding of a difficult road ahead.

It's nice to be on edge.

Post Exam Program

2007-05-04T08:56:00.000-04:00

This should describe the state to which I have translated, at least for a few days........

The Second Battle - Won!

2007-05-02T12:39:00.000-04:00

The second battle of the campaign for BS-DI is now over. Loyal readers will remember the first fight, known as the storming of the ramparts of academe. Once over the wall, our forces regrouped and charged the campus, only be met by our implacable foes the Barbarians, lead by Cheryl of the Algebraics. The historians, poets, and priests of academe tried to flank us on the right and the left, but were brushed aside by our calvary. Our strongest force, the infantry, has been engaged in hand to hand combat for what seems like forever, but in reality has only been 12 weeks. Nearing exhaustion, we have finally managed to dislodge the foe, but not before suffering from the slings and arrows of mis-function. Battered, bruised, and in urgent need of resupply, we are barricaded in a safe house, and will rest here awhile before resuming our attack. In the far distance, we can see the key structure, known locally as the cistern, which, successfully taken, will mark our victory as complete. But there is much fighting ahead...........

As another warrior has said:

... my purpose holds

To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths

Of all the western stars, until I die.

It may be that the gulfs will wash us down;

It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,

And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.

Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho'

We are not now that strength which in old days

Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are,--

One equal temper of heroic hearts,

Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will

To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

Word, brother.

Flagging

2007-04-30T07:38:00.000-04:00

Two down, two to go. As academe is wont to do, the most difficult is saved for the end. Sleep deprivation, the mind a jumbled collection of disparate ideas, unable to neatly categorize that which must be regurgitated logically, concisely, and accurately. It is true.......the brain needs time to digest, just like the stomach. As your mother taught you not to go swimming right after that delicious lunch on the beach, fearing a cramp, so is it inadvisable to go to an exam directly after cramming. I fear a major brain cramp. Ohhhh......woe is me!

Exams.........YeeGads!

2007-04-26T11:58:00.000-04:00

Time waits for no student, and so it is for this newest member of the hampster wheel. Mercifully, most of my exams are not cumulative, but, still, the volume of material covered since mid-terms, in late February, is staggering.

From being expected to remember footnotes in books, and the when, where, and why thereof, to sweeping questions like the Fall of the Roman Empire and precise execution of the union of functions that are irrational, it is a stressful time for mind and body.

And, for the first time, I get the mind and body thing. Both need rest, and more importantly, exercise. The brain is in pretty good shape, but the body is going to need a lot of attention soon. So, another lesson learned: it's all about balance and harmony. Keep the mind and body fit, and both will work at high levels for extended periods of time.

Maybe I can get the balance thing figured out in time for next semester.

The Last Day of Classes

2007-04-23T14:21:00.000-04:00

Classes are over! Exams are next! Then, 10 glorious days of rest, relaxation, golf, and re-familiarization with my wife before we start all over again.

In honor of the occasion, a little Hamlet:

What is a man,
If his chief good and market of his time
Be but to sleep and feed? a beast, no more.
Sure he that made us with such large discourse,
Looking before and after, gave us not
That capability and godlike reason
To fust in us unus'd (4.5.35-41).

Hamlet didn't have to write two papers in one weekend, and then study for some difficult exams.

Hamlet vs Haggard

2007-04-21T17:35:00.000-04:00

Writing the Hamlet paper. As I think about, and try to put into my words, Hamlet's lamentation of his condition, Merle Haggard sings softly in the background.

Says Hamlet:

I have of late - but wherefore I know not, - lost all my mirth, forgone all custom of exercises; and, indeed, it goes so heavily with my disposition that this goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory....
What a piece of work is Man...
And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust? Man delights not me...

Says Merle Haggard:

Wishing all these old things were new...

Ahhh, the human condition.

Crunch Time

2007-04-19T15:40:00.000-04:00

Today was the last day of classes for all the Tuesday/Thursday courses. Monday is the last day for the rest. Exams start next Wednesday. Still have two big papers due Monday, hopefully without that all-night nonsense of a few weeks ago, and then the final blast of studying for exams.

You might be asking how I feel. The answer is tired, stressed, mildly confident, and ready to move on. The acquired study habits, and the practice of same over the last 12 weeks, the restoration of the long-term memory and rehabilitation of the short-term memory, plus the knowledge that I have mastered the material of this semester all give me a comfortable sense that I can get through the next 10 days. But it is not about getting through. It is the challenge of maintaining the best possible grades; holding on to the value of the work already committed to the process.

And I'm gonna hold on......

As the late, great Jim Morrison said: "Break on through to the other side".

Dude, I Was Like Six Years Old

2007-04-18T10:03:00.000-04:00

On nice mornings, with coffee mug in hand, I like to sit in the common area of our classroom building before class starts. Today, I sat and watched the college chapter of Habitat for Humanity set up their booth to sell T-shirts to support their efforts in rebuilding homes in New Orleans. As I got up to go to class, one of the students offered me a "reload", which I gratefully accepted. A brief conversation ensued, I was delighted to be communicating with another student. He told me how terrible New Orleans was, and is, and that maybe the city would yet again be inundated by another hurricane. I chimed in and started to tell him the the story of St. Genvieve and the flood in 1993. He let me ramble for a minute with a look of puzzlement on his face, and finally said:

"Dude, I was like six years old then!"

I guess I forgot how old I am............

Exams Are in the Air

2007-04-17T19:42:00.000-04:00

We've rounded the headland, and have our destination in sight. Between we students and Summer lie the perilous seas of EXAMS. Most of us are aware of the dangers and have begun to take the necessary steps to navigate the reefs. One of the most important steps is finishing the papers that are due on the last day of class. The library at my school is thronged with faces that I, a regular habitue' of the facility, have not seen this semester. Which reminds me of a story that I heard recently, told to me directly by another student that was present at the moment.

At a prestigious university many miles from our humble academe, where the student body hails from all points of the compass and all corners of the globe, my source, also a diligent denizen of her library, overheard this comment from the group of Asian-American students that she regularly sees in the study area adjacent to her regular spot: "Must be close to exam time....all the white boys are starting to show up".

It is apparently a universal law of the college experience.........

Confucius Say.....

2007-04-16T21:01:00.000-04:00

From the Analects:

The Master said:

He who exercises government by means of his virtue may be compared to the north polar star, which keeps its place and all the stars turn toward it.

If the people be led by laws, and uniformity sought to be given them by punishments, they will try to avoid the punishment, but have no sense of shame.

If they be led by virtue, and uniformity sought to be given them by the rules of propriety, they will have the sense of shame and moreover will become good.

What Do Grades Mean?

2007-04-13T13:59:00.001-04:00

Grades. Are they the measuring stick of academic achievement? By most accounts, potential employers, graduate school admissions committees, and even the school of your major care immensely about the quantification of your achievement. Here's a link to an article by a professor that scares me witless:

I'm just back from a committee meeting at which the subject of grades and grade distributions came up, and it became clear to me that academics (even at the same institution, even in the same field) have wildly different philosophies about just what grades ought to mean.

There are the normal-distribution folks, who think grades ought to convey how you are doing relative to the other people taking the class. The average grade is a C, no matter whether that average corresponds to demonstrating coompetence on 40% of the content or 90% of the content. The grade you get is dependent on how many standard deviations above or below the mean you are. (It should be mentioned that there are universities -- including some with very high tuitions -- where the mean is more like a B than a C, but where the general approach is still a normal-distribution approach.)
Then there are the grading-on-mastery folks, who use grades to identify how well you have mastered the material. An "A" paper will be one where you've mastered almost all of the material, while an "F" paper is one where you show little to no mastery of the material. Folks who approach grading this way often have nice rubrics that will spell out the virtues an "A" paper must instantiate, those that a "B" paper must instantiate, and so on.

I fall squarely on the mastery spot. To me, effort and results, as measured against the expectations of the professor, should be the only factors, with results far outweighing effort. How many times have I heard, in the business world, "I don't care about effort, I only care about results!" Results should count.......not my position on an arbitrarily imposed curve that meets the expectations of the department chair. Give me, Professor, your expectations at the start of the semester, measure my performance against those expectations during the term, and give me a final evaluation before I can be promoted. That's life in the real world, and that's what we studnets ought to be learning in the academic world.

Seen in a Parking Lot

2007-04-08T12:19:00.001-04:00

I could not have said it better:

The Story of the Easter Egg

2007-04-05T16:15:00.000-04:00

College is really a wonderful experience. It's more than simply being surrounded by youth, excitement, and the swirl of many ideas. It's also the unexpected encounters with knowledge or information. For us adults, without being consciously aware of it, these kinds of encounters seem to find us with less and lessfrequency. For me, these moments are like shocks of energy that carry me back in time, and remind me of when so much was new and unknown.

The start of class, with the news that we will be watching a video. Up late the night before, working on TTPTCNBF*, I was prepared to fight the nods of sleep deprivation. The orthodox church in communist Romania? Huh?

Until the part where the old woman, via translator, is telling our host about the lovely, Romanov-like Easter eggs she is painting. They really do look remarkable, even on the 30 year old tape. She says that the decoration of Easter eggs is an old Orthodox tradition, based on the story of the death of Jesus. On the cross, Christ was lanced by the Roman centurion. His blood ran down his body and fell to the ground where it spattered a basket of eggs that a bystander had put down to watch the Crucifixion. The bloody eggs were immediately taken as a sign by His followers, and the celebration of the Resurrection calls for the ritual dying eggs to resemble the eggs spattered on Golgotha those many years ago.

Who knew that the Easter Egg Hunt that brings such pleasure to children and their parents is such an important symbol of the Resurrection? Not me.

*The Term Paper That Cannot Be Finished

Do You Know Where Your Child Is?

2007-04-05T15:33:00.001-04:00

People over the age of, say, 35 might remember the t-v ad that asked the question in the title. Perhaps the spot was produced in an effort to scare parents into keeping a closer eye on their little ones. If so, it certainly has spawned an entire generation of local news anchors who can't seem to resist the urge to hype the latest "compelling" story that only serves to further terrify the public. But that's another post.

This post is about my early adventures on FaceBook. Having been prodded by my professor and classmates to join, I dutifully logged in and supplied the necessary info. Gaining access was like being transported to an alternative universe, one where everybody is 19, where everyone is your friend, and there's always someone to talk to. This is, for my generation, akin to the neighborhood bar that never closed, where you could always find a willing listener and an escape from whatever problem was keeping you awake.

Last night, while working into the wee hours on the term paper that could not be finished, with my Google home page up-front and my i-tunes radio pumping "study music", my train of thought (aka the BS factory) was interrupted by the pleasant "beep" of my gmail notifier. Guess what? A friend was online, and nosing around my FaceBook account and leaving a message. Just a minute later, another beep. Another friend. All this at Midnight. Soon, I was having two chats with two different people, in two different locations. Investigation today with my Y-generation spy/mentor revealed that the late night is prime FaceBook time. Who knew?

I guess the lesson is that Mom and Dad don't have to worry too much about Jane or Jack. They're in their bedroom, safe and sound, talking to the universe about everything under the sun, while you sleep the sleep of the uninformed.

Which is, I suppose, safer than their crawling out of the second story window, jumping to the ground, and marching into the darkness with whomever.

He Was Good At What He Did

2007-04-04T17:51:00.000-04:00

A short break to contemplate the wisdom of some words heard today in class. As I examine Taoism in the term paper that cannot be finished, it is entirely appropriate that an answer heard in class today captures the essence of the Tao.......

Professor: "Who can tell me something about William Shakespeare?"

LB: "He was good at what he did."

The Beginning of the End....of the Beginning

2007-04-02T06:38:00.000-04:00

We happy few, we band of students, can see the end of this semester's struggle. Between us and a much needed respite lie terms papers, cumulative essays, and, FINAL EXAMS. What had started as a trickle of information masquerading as a stream of information has turned into a raging torrent of reading, thinking, writing, and reviewing. It seems, to this student rookie, that the entire semester has steadily risen in intensity and urgency.

Two major hurdles this week, followed by two more next week. This is what we signed up for, this challenge of succeeding in academe.

Stay tuned.

The Tao of Procrastination and Term Papers

2007-03-31T14:16:00.000-04:00

Stanza 64 of the Tao Te Ching, by Lao Tsu

Peace is easily maintained;
Trouble is easily overcome before it starts.
The brittle is easily shattered;
The small is easily scattered.

Deal with it before it happens.
Set things in order before there is confusion.

A tree as great as a man's embrace springs up from a small shoot;
A terrace nine stories high begins with a pile of earth;
A journey of a thousand miles starts under one's feet.

In student terms:

Why did I wait until the last minute to start this huge paper?

The Flank of the Algebraic Has Been Turned!

2007-03-29T22:11:00.000-04:00

Our side reports from the Front that victory is imminent in the struggle for control of the Island of Algebra. The latest battle has been won overwhelmingly, with no casualties reported. A perfect score, you might say. Slopes and Lines have been routed, and the Functions appear, initially, to be less fearsome than thought. As in all battles, the fight had its tense moments, with our side struggling to kick off the offensive. But, like Patton in France, once the column moved, it moved with determination and precision. The commanding general noted that, though victorious, much effort was required, and yours truly was seen to be "sweating a few problems". The flush of victory was chilled with her next words: "Wait until Pre-Calculus.....you'll be soaking wet after" one of those battles. We suppose that it's an acceptable leadership tactic for the troopsr to be warned that the next fight is never as easy as the last, but we will bask, briefly, in the glow that comes from success.

Face Book

2007-03-29T17:02:00.001-04:00

Sitting in class, just as the professor arrives, one student gives another student a birthday card. "How nice of you", says the professor. "I just looked her up on Face Book and found out today was her birthday", said the first student.

And off we went into a discussion of Face book, a phenomenon I had a dim awareness of, but did not completely understand. The professor has an account, all of the students have accounts, and I was encouraged to set up my own account.

The communication aspect of Face Book is unbelievable. For the cell phone, e-mail generation, access to social information does not come from traditional sources. It has even occurred to me that gossip is looking at a near term death, as everyone now has the ability to report their side of every story with a few strokes of the keyboard.

In talking to people about Face Book, I am astonished at the social impact of this kind of activity. Parents are aghast at the amount of information that is "published" by their children. It's fair to say that the notions of privacy held by my generation, which are significantly different from our parents' notions, are not even remotely similar to the privacy beliefs of this new generation. A parent told me a story about the daughter of a friend, an excellent student and well-rounded person in every respect, who posted a picture of herself, at her own Face Book site, posing in a thong and bra. The photo did not, according to my source, upset any of the girl's friends, but a few parents were outraged. Who's to say what is appropriate or not? Does my generation set the standard of behavior for our children, or was our revolt against our parents' standards nothing more than a generational act of hypocrisy? When I, and my wife, and our close friends are mouldering in the ground, or resting in the urn on the mantelpiece of some child's house, will our notions of outrage or inappropriate behavior evince peals of laughter (or expressions of bewilderment) from our progeny?

I tell you, Edith, the kids these days, they're different!

New Directions

2007-03-28T21:10:00.000-04:00

Planning the return to college, I spent hours poring over the Undergraduate Catalog, looking at courses, majors, minors, and all the minutiae that comprises the academic handbook. I read the Honor Code, and the rules on under-age drinking, and generally tried to commit every fact, no matter how unimportant, to memory. I have my courses lined up the next 3 semesters. I know which classes are offered only in the Fall Semester, the Spring Semester, and in summer. I have a pretty good idea of the professors that teach the classes; I know where the classes will likely be held, if recent history is any indicator. I have downloaded the syllabus from professors' websites, in anticipation of taking their class. You might say that I have been a little anal about this entire process (but I try very hard not to behave in an anal fashion when in public, so that's our little secret).

As I might have said in my former career, "develop a good plan and stick to it". Know what you want to achieve and execute. But be flexible, and be prepared to make adjustments as you proceed through the plan.

And so it is is the world of Academe. I have been registered for our "interim" term for several months, having carefully investigated the course offerings, the professors, and so forth, ad nauseam. And all of a sudden, I'm gonna throw that plan in the ditch. A current professor, whose class has been extremely stimulating, but far off my chosen career path (a general education requirement), informed us today that she would be teaching a "writing class", and would any of us like to join her for what should be a very informative, if demanding, exploration of new material and the further development of our writing skills.

Well, of course, I threw caution to the wind, and changed my schedule. I can't wait for this class. I am certain it will be demanding, and I'm not sure that it will help me in my chosen field, but, dammit all, I like her and I like the intention of the class. And it will expose me to things that have not been, in my previous life, a part of my world view. Uncharted waters, you might say. A detour on the road map of my trip through Academe. And, as careful as I have been, I do love turning down that small lane that doesn't appear on my map, and driving into the unknown. Always have, and always will.

Ain't college grand?

On Being The Oldest Student In The Class

2007-03-28T20:28:00.000-04:00

So there I sat, quietly, in my usual front row, far left seat, minding my own business, taking notes, paying attention, and enjoying the discussion. The professor, a fine lady with an accomplished academic career, was talking about her subject with great vigor. Out of the blue, she made a comment about her age relative to the subject, and then apparently decided that the class needed another example of late middle age, and so threw my name into the arena! It was A...... this, and A...... that, and "at our age" this, and so forth. It was appalling! If there had been a trapdoor under my seat, I would have exited the classroom immediately. I had arrived, I thought, at a point in this semester where my presence in halls and stairwells and the library was known and commonplace. I had even allowed myself the vainglorious moment or two of thinking that I really was a part of the academic experience, part of the student body, like. I had imagined, however briefly, that I belonged in this wonderful environment.

Well, I do belong in this environment, no matter what anyone says or thinks......

Research Anyone?

2007-03-28T10:32:00.000-04:00

Next week, I have two major papers due. Both require serious, college-level research, accurate citations, footnotes, endnotes, bibliographies, and such. Our professors have blithely instructed us to "use the library's databases" for our research. As if this student had a clue. The last time I did any research for a paper cable tv was a brand new concept. The space shuttle had not yet taken its first trip into space. PC was shortharnd for "politically correct", and look what that's turned into. I dimly recall digging through card catalogs (yes, paper records) and tracking down dusty books in remote stacks on the upper floors of the library. Hell, the last term paper I wrote was typed on an IBM selectric with self-correcting tape!

But, today, our fine institution has electronic databases, providing full text records in some, abstracts in others, and, at the very least, citations to other items of relevance. For most of the students, it appears to me, working with the e-databases is old hat, hardly worth discussing. For me, although the concept of a database is familiar, the struggle of looking through literally dozens of databases seems as daunting as trying to find 12 books and reading through them for citable references and scholarly ideas.

You know, it really isn't harder to do things in this new generation, it's just different. The key is keeping the mind flexible and open to new ideas......

Which is what I signed up for in this gig!

On the Slippery Slope of the Unknown Line

2007-03-27T12:05:00.000-04:00

Jumping Jehoshaphat! I have made my way inland on the island of Algebra, and can see, in the distance, the Promised Land. Between me and the promise of re-birth in the state known as Pre-Calculus lies the tortuous ground of the Lines, Slopes, and Circles, and farther beyond, the people of the Functions. X-intercepts confused with Y-intercepts, general forms and standard forms of equations that might as well be written in Linear B, subtracting h from x and k from y, completing squares and other magical tricks to arrive at hidden values, all this serves to confuse any student and disorient him so that the Functions can swoop in for the death blow. Yet, so close, so close, is the goal. Can I, perhaps, summon help from a higher form? Others have made the journey and achieved the higher state of Pre-Calculus, so it can be done.

Where there is a will (and the Math lab), there is a way!

The Implacable Otherness of Others

2007-03-23T13:29:00.000-04:00

From "In The Lake of The Woods", a terrific novel currently being studied in our English class:

We are fascinated, all of us, by the implacable otherness of others. And we wish to penetrate by hypothesis, by daydream, by scientific investigation those leaden walls that encase the human spirit, that define it and guard it and hold it forever inaccessible.

Whose leaden walls do we seek to penetrate, by whatever means? How well do we truly know those closest to us? Not knowing that otherness, can we base the extent of our self chosen revelation of our innermost self on the perceived acts of others, taking a risk that our honesty is reciprocated or respected?

An amazing discussion in our class, with an astonishing amount of participation and not much unanimity. We humans are a fascinating species......

The Lout!

2007-03-21T14:25:00.000-04:00

Walking through the bucolic campus bursting with signs of Spring. Beautiful azaleas, buds on dogwoods, oak pollen everywhere, shorts and lolling on the grass, the palpable sense that Old Man Winter has left the building. The students, as if cued by the changing season, are planning accordingly, but not always with the appropriate amount of sensitivity.

One end of an overheard cell phone conversation: "He told me that he just didn't see us dating anymore....and then he told me that I was too fat....".

Was I ever that cruel?

The Test

2007-03-21T14:22:00.000-04:00

Finally! Done. Gone, but not forgotten....have to save something for the Final. The crammed material was successfully processed into long term memory, helped, no doubt, by the extra 48 hours available for percolation and processing. A good night of sleep before the test, a leisurely, but focused review, and voila'.....a work of precision, fullness, detail, and analysis.

Now, if the professor will just agree with me.

Monday Update

2007-03-19T13:54:00.000-04:00

Unbelievably, as I arrived at the building to start my walk up four flights to our classroom for the dreaded test mentioned in my previous post, sirens sounded and emergency vehicles surrounded the building as enthusiastic first responders cleared the building of students, faculty, and other staff. A fire alarm! A false alarm, of course, but the delay causes our professor to reschedule for Wednesday so that we have a full hour to disgorge our knowledge. Are you kidding me? On the one hand, relief that an opportunity for more learning/review is presented; on the other, I was ready, dammit!

Is it fate? Am I destined to earn an A in this class despite my weakness in will? Stay tuned.

The Sunday Before A Monday Test

2007-03-18T22:54:00.001-04:00

Halfway through the first semester of what should be a 5 semester ride and I already hate tests on Monday! You know the test is coming, and you know that you should start the review process a week before the test. You know that you have certain other obligations (like a wife, and parents, and those True Friends that everyone has to have), but a mature, responsible adult should be able to handle this. You get out of class at Noon on Friday, so you have plenty of time to get going. But, first, just a quick read of that best-seller that's been sitting on the coffee table for two weeks, followed by a truly delicious supper with the Wife, who's been such a trooper about this whole school thing and the pinching of pennies. Can't deny her a little quality time. Then, there's all day Saturday...but wait, the yard looks like a prairie, and the weeds in the flower beds are the size of small pines, and the neighbors are starting to look at you a little funny. Then, before you know it, it's lunch time, and, gosh I'm tired after all that mowing and weeding and raking. Maybe a short nap. What, it's time to go to that very nice cocktail party for our Dear Friend's niece's engagement? Well, then, we'll get at it good and hard early on Sunday.......right after going to the grocery store for breakfast supplies, and a leisurely read of the paper, and a few cups of that good coffee. What's that......CBS Sunday morning has a nice piece on? Oh well, just a few minutes. Hey....look at this....the race is on. Just watch a few laps and then get cracking.

10:00 PM.....eyes itching from the giant nuggets of sand, I'm sure the blood vessels are broken in both eyeballs. Yes, I'm very confused about the difference between Confucianism and Daoism, and I can't seem to memorize those damn Chinese words for sacred duty, and nothingless nothing, and polished jade, or the block of wood. Tranquility and Harmony? Not for me this dreadful night. I wonder if Gilgamesh felt the same fear as I do contemplating the termination of my academic career? Was Moses as nervous as I am when The Lord spoke to him from the burning bush? How will I ever keep this stuff straight, much less write anything that will please my very discerning professor? Make sure the alarm is set for 4:50 AM.....got to try to jam it all in.

Don't do this again.

To Former Bosses I Have Known

2007-03-14T15:51:00.000-04:00

This week, our English class is reading Antigone, by Sophocles. Before now, all I knew about Antigone was that Starbucks sold a CD by an all female band called Antigone Rising. So, I was familiar with the name, if not the concept.

As seems to be the case with everything that we read in this class, the words resonate deeply with me and remind me, again and again, of the life lessons that I have learned, sometimes the hard way. Our professor and the preface in the textbook tell us that the heroine, Antigone, represents Natural Law, and that Sophocles used the story to remind the Greeks of the inherent conflict between Natural Law and Man's Law; that, perhaps, those who would impose Man's Law in opposition to Natural Law will inevitably lose that battle. Indeed, the introduction in the textbook says: "In the 1960's, the story of Antigone was especially meaningful to those Americans who engaged in civil disobedience in struggles for civil rights and against the war in Vietnam." Well, I will concede the first part of that bit of philosophy, but will quibble with the validity of the second part.

For me, the most interesting character is Creon, the king. Newly crowned, unsure of his hold on power, he is portrayed as unreasonable in his exercise of authority. He appears willing to sacrifice his family in order to maintain his authority. Unwilling to listen to the reasoned arguments of his son and advisers, he holds to a position that ultimately leads to his undoing.

Perhaps Antigone is the exemplar of adherence to a principle higher than any mortal rule. I also think that Sophocles is also trying to teach the Greeks about leadership and management. Who among us with experience in the corporate world has not worked for a person that would not listen, could not be wrong, and should never be challenged? Creon is the perfect example of the worst kind of bosses I have had. Here's one piece of the play that really is a teachable moment:

I beg you, do not be unchangeable:
Do not believe that you alone can be right.
The man who thinks that,
The man who maintains that only he has the power
To reason correctly, when you know him, turns out empty.
It is not reason never to yield to reason.

To listen to your people, to trust what they say, to understand that it is not a sign of weakness to not have the only solution to every problem.....these are the lessons of Antigone. To all you bosses out there.......read this and try to learn from it.

Dreaming in Redneck

2007-03-12T14:28:00.000-04:00

Loitering in class and talking about the spring break soon to commence, I asked my classmates about their plans for the vacation. Unlike apparently everyone else at my college, none of us had any plans other than going home. V..., who is a second generation Greek (in the real sense), told me that she would be working in her family's restaurant. I asked about her family, their business, and their "Greekness", and, being more curious than discrete, asked if she ever dreamed in Greek. For some reason, my question elicited much response from the others, mostly about the ridiculous nature of the question. The class wit, L.....B......, who is much more intelligent than her reticence would indicate, promptly declared that she, being from a small town in our state and speaking no language other than her native tongue, dreams in "redneck". Her glance in my direction seemed to challenge my opinion of that notion, but this old codger is too old and wise to take that bait....and I made no response. Since that moment, I have been unable to think of any dream without having imposed upon the characters the lovely lilt of a soft South Carolina accent. Dreaming in redneck.........

Primary and Secondary Sources

2007-03-09T13:27:00.000-05:00

Today's perambulation through the blogosphere brings this morsel to the plate:

Students in history classes at Middlebury College this spring may have to change the way they do research for papers or tests. Although they can consult the online encyclopedia Wikipedia for background, they are not allowed to cite it as a source...

...Just this month a dark cloud fell over Wikipedia's credibility after it was revealed that a trusted contributor who claimed to be a tenured professor of religion was actually a 24-year-old college dropout. He was also one of the appointed "arbiters" who settled disputes between contributors.

I find that decision very interesting, for several reasons.

First, it has been made very clear to me by my professors at this fine college that Wikipedia is not a valid source for references. What took the esteemed faculty at Middlebury so long to arrive at the same decision?

Second, on the first day of my history class, Dr. P....... explained to us, in great detail, the meaning of primary sources and secondary sources. He made it very clear that, as a trained historian teaching us to think like historians, he would not accept references, in any paper or test, that used the internet as a secondary source. My notes indicate that he used the word "dilettante" to describe those who, among others, seek to furnish knowledge to the great universe of students via the World-Wide Web. In checking Merriam's online dictionary (not Wikipedia!), it is obvious that Dr. P....... was using the secondary meaning of the word, to wit, "a person having a superficial interest in an art of a branch of knowledge". Synonyms listed included "dabbler" and "amateur".

Looks like Dr. P....... was exactly right. The power of a trained mind exerting discipline and training to establish, in context, the validity of his thesis.

Can I have some of that?

Lollygagging

2007-03-08T13:29:00.000-05:00

The Spring Break enters its 6th day, with 3 to go until the Gates of Academe re-open. I'll confess to being ready to begin anew the assault on higher education. I've read some fiction, cleaned up my school files, watched some late night television, been to the gym a time or two, and generally lollygagged around the manse. Frankly, I miss the slight edge of tension that comes from knowing that certain tasks have to be accomplished in a timely manner; texts read, notes reviewed, study notes readied for the tests coming soon, and so forth. This idleness scene is for the young. I got things to do..........

Through The Lens of Time

2007-03-03T09:32:00.000-05:00

Professor Bainbridge provides a link and expresses his opinion on young students and their educational choices by noting:

I'm reminded of a saying: students are one of the fewer consumer groups that derive more utility by consuming less of the good they've purchased.

I'm not an economist, yet,......but I will posit that The Law of Diminishing Marginal Utility does not apply to adult students. We are returning to college for a specific goal, as all students are, but, at our age, we know what we don't know, and we want to learn as much as we can. Looking through the lens of time, we KNOW that the questions of life can be, partially at least, answered in the halls of academe. But, it takes a few adventures on the path of life to fully comprehend that the ignored questions of our youth do not go away if ignored. They simply recede, or do not present themselves to us until much, much later. We can argue that a narrow exposure to education may help in terms of gaining admission to law school, or medical school, but it fails to give us the perspective needed for the really big questions that will come to us all.

I'm going to get the questions right this time.

Spring Break

2007-03-02T14:55:00.000-05:00

Ahhhhh......spring break is upon us!

All week, the chatter overheard in the hallways of academe has been about the long awaited, much needed break from the demands of academic life. Paris, Rome, London, Nassau (we don't think they meant New York, either), Florida.....scattered to the four corners of the globe will be the young students with the money to travel. Even the old students with some extra cash seem to be heading out of town. Some of us will stay near the campus, get some exercise, re-stock the sleep bank, catch up on school work, where necessary, and begin to review for the upcoming tests that professors have scheduled for the first week of our return.

Mainly, though, the break will provide an opportunity for this student to reflect on the first semester of the new adventure. Has it been what I expected? It's been so much more than I expected that it almost defeats my ability to express it in words. The developing relationships with students and professors, the exposure to subjects long forgotten, the re-acquired thirst for knowledge, and the just plain excitement of being on campus.......it's been an exhilirating 6 weeks that only serves to whet the appetite for more....more....more. I'm beginning to understand why professors teach, and what young, fresh perspectives can bring any subject, no matter how dusty and tired.

No, no vacation needed for this student...I'm already on the trip of a lifetime.

The Singularity Is Near

2007-02-20T15:00:00.000-05:00

This is why they decided to invent Discovery Informatics ....

Neat Video....

Barriers, Redemption, & Karma

2007-02-20T13:43:00.000-05:00

Following in the vein of the liberal arts as a tool for critical thinking, another tale for the reader.

Barriers are built for the purpose of keeping people/things from gaining access to something, whether it be a village, an economic opportunity, or University. Self-defense, self-interest, or self-improvement, all require effort to achieve. The return to school was no different. Given my documented history (recorded for posterity in the Office of the Registrar), I had to overcome institutional resistance to the notion of my return. Having overcome this obstacle.....

Redemption is the price one must pay for overcoming the Barrier of Re-Admission. As noted in Wikipedia's discussion on Christian redemption: "After one's sins are forgiven, the individual's suffering can reduce the penalty due for sin." I am re-admitted, but I must pay for my past sins. Here, the penalty is not the absence of educational opportunity, but acknowledgement, during the present, that my previous acts were worthy of punishment. Having re-gained the opportunity for education, I must pay for my omissive acts of earlier decades. This penance comes, in part, through my mandatory enrollment in a class designed to help students who are currently adrift in the Bermudic Triangle of academic confusion, lost motivation, and social distractions.....

Karma is the Buddhist/Hindu concept which says, if I may be brief, that our past acts have future consequences. As I sit in my "penance" class, I am forced to listen to excuses, snores, the chatter of text-messaging, insolence, and the pearls of wisdom that drop from the professor's mouth. That she speaks the Truth is lost on the class. That I know she speaks the Truth, and that I am the manifestation of that Truth, is also lost on the class. That I am forced to observe, closely, the kind of behavior that was a hallmark of my earlier college experience, is perfect Karmic justice.

It may be that I have been put on Earth to teach someone else this valuable lesson, only they're not listening.

Perfect......

Eat A Peach

2007-02-16T13:08:00.001-05:00

To steal a phrase from Academe, "The value of a liberal arts education, and the purpose of college, is to teach students to think, to link, and to create". Already, in this first semester, two professors have made reference to Bloom's Taxonomy, a subject that this student had never before encountered.

In a nutshell, or "precis" as Professor P******* says, Bloom developed his hierarchy of thinking in the 1950s "as a means of expressing qualitatively different kinds of thinking". The levels are:

Knowledge
Comprehension
Application
Analysis
Synthesis
Evaluation

Well, I think we are moving up the ladder, so to speak.

Recently, our English class has been reading poetry (did you notice, dear reader?); one of our readings was T.S. Eliot's "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock". Among other elements, the poem contains references to earlier works of literature and art. In doing the "google" part of my homework, I learned that The Allman Brothers album "Eat A Peach" had been inspired by a line in the Eliot poem: "Do I dare eat a peach?". Fair enough, the world of music shares the universe with the world of literature and art, and it's nice to know that my favorite Georgia cracker had some book learning.

Last night, in reading "The Legend of Miao-Shen" for my Religion class, I came across a passage where the Buddha tells Miao-Shen that he will provide her with a "magic peach" for a journey, and that

"When you have eaten it, you shall henceforth experience neither hunger nor thirst; old age and infirmity will never assail you, and you shall live for endless ages".

Well, the light bulb went on for this student. Of course Eliot would have been familiar with Daoism, of course he would have read this famous tale, and of course the theme of eternity found in the "magic peach" would resonate in his poem about time.

So, Duane got it from Eliot, and Eliot got it from Daoism. And now, I get it. I get an example of the linkage of art, literature, and religion across 2,000 years; I get that a famous piece of music (at least for my generation) is inspired by a famous piece of literature, which is inspired by an ancient symbol in Chinese religious thought.

I wonder what else is out there?

The New Valentine's Day

2007-02-14T14:33:00.000-05:00

I expected things to be a little different around the campus on this journey. After all, it's another generation's turn to make the rules, establish the standards, and call the shots. But expecting something does not make the experiencing of that thing any less interesting.

Valentine's Day is a case in point. According to Wikipedia,

The day is most closely associated with the mutual exchange of love notes in the form of "valentines." Modern Valentine symbols include the heart-shaped outline and the figure of the winged Cupid...

...which tracks pretty closely with my understanding of the event. Of course, mere love notes are not considered a sufficient expression of eternal love and adoration in my marriage, so, to the cocktail of cash flow must be added flowers and outside entertainment. But my understanding is no different from other men...until I encountered the modern orthodoxy of a politicized ritual in the Halls of Academe.

Here's a modern, feminist take on The New Meaning of Valentine's Day that pierces my heart...

In Roman mythology, Cupid's arrows pierced the hearts of unsuspecting mortals causing them to fall deeply in love. Today, cherubic Cupid is a common symbol of Valentine's Day, a holiday celebrating romantic love. While most women still welcome Cupid's attack -- or at least a box of chocolates -- some feminist groups seek to transform Valentine's Day into V-Day, an occasion to raise awareness about violence against women.

V-Day originated from Eve Ensler's controversial play, "The Vagina Monologues." The play consists of vignettes describing the experiences of numerous women's vaginas: from heterosexual and lesbian sex to child birth, with a focus on violence and rape. The V-Day website states that "V-Day's mission is simple. It demands that the violence must end. It proclaims Valentine's Day as V-Day until the violence stops."

No matter what you think about the play, raising awareness about violence against women is a worthy goal. Ensler's depiction of the horrors of a Bosnian rape camp highlights the appalling abuse too many women suffer in today's world.

But why the assault on Valentine's Day? The clear implication is that violence and male/female relations are somehow naturally linked. It's part of a disturbing strategy by the women's movement -- and particularly by women's-studies departments on college campuses -- to convince women that traditional institutions like marriage are inherently patriarchal and oppressive.

So this is Valentine's Day on my campus. A week of the "Vagina Monologues", rape prevention and awareness issues, and a sex-toy party for the co-eds, who are invited to "spice up their love life" with some unmentionables. Guess I'll be getting off lightly if all I have to do is buy supper and a few roses.

I wonder if the college will, according to tradition, be holding Sadie Hawkins Day later this Spring?

So Who's Fooling Who?

2007-02-14T14:05:00.000-05:00

We wear the mask that grins and lies
Through chains of fog and smoke
With you we have no special ties
Vision blurred and speech hindered
Not even you have the courage to approach
We scare you because we're different
We scare you because we're unique.
You want us to be afraid
You want us to be inferior
And even in your game of love vs. hate you wanted us to play
Even then we laughed and shouted
For we knew that we would come a very long way
From dusk til dawn we've triumphed even over you
Still now you stare and you wonder
How could they possibly do the things they do?
For we wear the mask that grins and lies
So who's fooling who?
Because we know you don't know shit
Because we are strong and we are courageous
And we always find our way through
Beautiful and bold with heads held high
We wear the mask that grins and lies.

RC

Summer's End

2007-02-14T10:40:00.000-05:00

We sat together at one summer's end
And took it to heart that we'd only be friends.
We said all was well and we walked away
To haunting reminders of that summer's day.

What seemed to be fixed now only seems broken
By the words that were then so easily spoken.
What once seemed to be what would set us both free
Now only gives way to a thirst not to be.

For if my old lover is now my friend,
Then why did affection all suddenly end?
If we as lovers no longer must be
Then pray I this cup be taken from me.

We gained not a friend but lost our own souls
Attempting to rid us the smallest of woes!
The chill of the night goes down, down my spine
When lying and mourning him, only to pine.

What have I now but this small pen in my hand?
How will it ever stir change with this man?
We passed on the way and his eyes said it worse--
Our pride will remain our love's only curse.

We sat together at one summer's end
And took it to heart that we'd only be friends.
But realized we not how lovers will burn!
For each other with passion we now only yearn.

LBB

The Dream

2007-02-14T10:36:00.000-05:00

In the dream, I enter the house.
It is cold and dark inside.
I creep inward as if I were a mouse,
Daring to make the slightest sound
That would give my presence away.

As I continue to make my way inward,
I find that this house in which I dare enter
Is filled with a strange presence.
The air is suffocating me.
I cannot breathe,
I cannot move.

Questions arise in my mind.
Why is this house angry?
What have I done to be treated so?

I find myself breathless and motionless,
Desperately seeking my way out.
I wake up.
I am freed from the oppression of an angered house.
I am freed from the oppression of everything,
I am freed from the dream,

VG

CoComment

2007-02-13T15:21:00.001-05:00

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Thank You, Laura Beth

2007-02-10T16:38:00.001-05:00

From a classmate, a comment made in class and recorded in my notes (found when studying "Prufrock" by T.S. Eliot):

"You're a poet, welcome to Hell!"

This Be The Verse

2007-02-10T16:13:00.000-05:00

With apologies for the language.

And this will be the last poem, for a while......

They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And some extra , just for you.

But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one anothers' throats.

Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don't have any kids yourself.

Philip Larkin

Then versus Now

2007-02-10T13:27:00.000-05:00

Test time is upon me. Two big tests on Monday. As I somewhat frantically study, write notes, re-read the anticipated important passages in my readings, and try to store the information in my long-term memory, I can't help but think about this situation as it occurred many years ago.

Back then, I did not know what I did not know, but I knew that I did not care.

Today, I know what I do not know, and I care (a lot).

One question is whether or not I learned more easily and better for not caring. Now, so much of me is invested in a process which says "success is a measure of this man". Then, I relied on native intelligence and the power of a young mind to master enough material to do just well enough. Now, although still the proud possessor of native intelligence, my older mind has not yet earned its full measure of my trust. In other words, the belts and pulleys of my brain are moving, but are they powering the engine?

In a conversation with one of my professors yesterday, where she asked how I was doing, I revealed that I thought I would earn a passing grade but I wanted to do well. She noted that my remark was typical of adult students, who want not to learn but to master material.

This, simply, opens another can of worms. Yes, I want to master the material, but I do not want to get bogged down in my review to the extent that I over-prepare and thus miss something more important than the things I have studied. I think you could say that this is an expression of my lack of confidence.

Which leads to another question. Which is the key to success, confidence or fear? Can I relax enough to let my brain do its job, or will my fear cause the mental processes to lock up?

Ah, this is the manifestation of the old mind..............spinning madly and moving nowhere.

In my mind, I can barely hear the other students saying "Just go for it, dude."

The Mask

2007-02-08T22:50:00.000-05:00

We wear the mask that grins and lies
We laugh, we joke, we dare not cry.
For if truth would speak, the misery'd eyes
Would tell a sad, sad tale of futile demise.

The face we wear is nothing but a story
To be told, knowing that in its lie
We seek to hide the truth; we try
But fail our quest for mortal glory.

If the one who knows the best of us,
Given a glimpse, could see the worst in us,
Then what hope would have a friend
To us remain until the bitter end?

To hide, or better, to know,
What can they trust, if not our soul?
Yet who fears most the fatal blow
That reveals not heart but deep black hole?

Will it be me disappointed most, or you?
At the time when much is expected,
Then we see the things most needed
Not present.
How sad to find the unexpected,
That signals not attack, but retreat.

There is no Frigate like a Book

2007-02-08T22:43:00.000-05:00

There is no Frigate like a Book
To take us Lands away
Nor any Courses like a Page
Of prancing Poetry -
This Traverse may the poorest take
Without oppress of Toll -
How frugal is the Chariot
That bears the Human soul.

Emily Dickinson

"Faith" is a fine invention

2007-02-08T22:40:00.000-05:00

"Faith" is a fine invention
When gentlemen can see -
But Microscopes are prudent
In an Emergency.

Emily Dickinson

An Arundel Tomb

2007-02-06T14:43:00.001-05:00

Side by side, their faces blurred,
The earl and countess lie in stone,
Their proper habits vaguely shown
As jointed armour, stiffened pleat,
And that faint hint of the absurd -
The little dogs under their feet.

Such plainness of the pre-baroque
Hardly involves the eye, until
It meets his left-handed gauntlet, still
Clasped empty in the other; and
One sees, with a sharp tender shock,
His hand withdrawn, holding her hand.

They would not think to lie so long.
Such faithfulness in effigy
Was just a detail friends would see:
A sculptor's sweet commissioned grace
Thrown off in helping to prolong
The Latin names around the base.

They would not guess how early in
Their supine stationary voyage
The air would change to soundless damage,
Turn the old tenantry away;
How soon succeeding eyes begin
To look, not read. Rigidly they

Persisted, linked, through lengths and breadths
Of time. Snow fell, undated. Light
Each summer thronged the glass. A bright
Litter of birdcalls strewed the same
Bone-riddled ground. And up the paths
The endless altered people came,

Washing at their identity.
Now, helpless in the hollow of
An unarmorial age, a trough
Of smoke in slow suspended skeins
Above their scrap of history,
Only an attitude remains:

Time has transfigured them into
Untruth. The stone fidelity
They hardly meant has come to be
Their final blazon, and to prove
Our almost-instinct almost true:
What will survive of us is love.

Philip Larkin

Ignorance

2007-02-06T14:36:00.001-05:00

Strange to know nothing, never to be sure
Of what is true or right or real,
But force to qualify or so I feel,
Or Well, it does seem so:
Someone must know.

Strange to be ignorant of the way things work:
Their skill at finding what they need,
Their sense of shape, and punctual spread of seed,
And willingness to change;
Yes, it is strange,

Even to wear such knowledge - for our flesh
Surrounds us with its own decisions -
And yet spend all our life on imprecisions,
That when we start to die
Have no idea why.

Philip Larkin

Days

2007-02-06T14:32:00.000-05:00

What are days for?
Days are where we live.
They come, they wake us
Time and time over.
They are to be happy in:
Where can we live but days?

Ah, solving that question
Brings the priest and the doctor
In their long coats
Running over the fields.

Philip Larkin

Hidden Costs II

2007-02-03T11:12:00.000-05:00

The second surprise of the return to college occurred when I bought my textbooks for the coming semester. As a side note, my very first semester in college, lo those many years ago, got off on the wrong foot when my parents and I arrived on campus at the last minute. By the time I was moved in and ready for the start of class, most of my textbooks were sold out. This was so disturbing that I was too embarrassed to go to some of my classes. I did not understand that I had other options. Thus were set the conditions for my early departure from that lovely bastion of Southern education. If I did not gain much from that first experience, I did learn the importance of buying textbooks as early as possible. Now that I am (I hope) a mostly fully realized adult, my compulsions are merely an extension of my personality. That is to say, I got to the college bookstore well in advance of the start of this semester.

I had, of course, seen the temporary booths spotted around the campus at semester-end. I knew that various bookstores were buying used textbooks from those students happy to be well rid of a particular subject and desperate for beer money. But I did not understand the economic model of the textbook industry.

I have a clearer understanding now. My textbook cost, for 5 low-level courses, was just under $400. That total does not include notebooks, a calculator for Mathematics courses ($140), pens, pencils, and a snappy messenger/book-bag to transport various books to and from different classrooms (okay, the bag was a Christmas present).

The prices are unconscionable. As I type this, sitting on my desk is a thin volume, "Chinese Religious Traditions", which is the size of a 5 x 8 notecard, less than 125 pages in length, bought used, for $10. There are 5 such books for that one course. In algebra, according to the course syllabus, we will cover only about 40% of the book that cost me a cool $83, used. It was strongly suggested that I purchase the accompanying Solutions Manual (@ $33), which I did, only to find that the text has, in the back, the same answers as the solutions manual (only the odd numbers in both) . Could I return the solutions manual? "No, we only buy textbooks. I'm sorry". Well, so am I. An English literature anthology that has been owned by at least three previous students, at least based on the different colored hi-liters, cost more than $100.

Today, as I enjoyed the luxury of a Saturday morning perusing my favorite web-sites, I discovered the root cause of the textbook valuation crisis. As always, an understanding of basic economics provides the answer. To wit:

...one of the major causes of higher priced new textbooks is the used textbook market. For example, if the fixed cost of producing a textbook is $500,000 and 5,000 units of the book are sold each year for 4 years then each textbook would bear $25 of the fixed cost.

However, if, due to the used textbook market, only the first 5,000 units are sold and, in each of the remaining three years these same 5,000 units are sold as used textbooks, then the publisher still has the $500,000 in fixed costs spread out over only 5,000 books. Thus each new textbook bears $100 of fixed costs, resulting in higher retail prices for all textbooks. This example demonstrates what has been happening in the textbook market over the past several years: As the used textbook market has expanded so have the market prices of new and used textbooks.

Now there's a revolutionary idea. Don't buy the textbooks back, keep using the same edition until there is a significant change in the knowledge base, and the unit cost of the books will decrease.

To my admittedly cheap way of thinking, textbooks should have some value to the owner beyond the 3-month semester; after all, it used to be that way "way back when". If the damn books don't cost so much, they won't have as much value in the "used" market. Then, maybe, my English anthology that is full of lovely poems might find a place in my bookcase. Perhaps it would provide a lifetime of enjoyment, providing insight for years beyond the classroom, and serving as a reminder of a joyous time in my life, especially since the three previous owners will not have had their chances to highlight every third line in various shades of pink, yellow, and green.

Hidden Costs I

2007-02-03T09:30:00.000-05:00

When planning for the return to academe, the first issue addressed was the expense of the adventure. To my unpracticed eye, that meant tuition and fees. As an adult, there wouldn't be the additional expense of lodging and meals, since the campus is a very short drive from my home, where my wife generally provides an optimal dining experience as long as I go to the grocery store.

It did not take long to understand the tuition is just the beginning. A few exploratory trips to the campus indicated that parking would be a major issue. My school is located in the middle of a medium sized city, surrounded by neighborhoods and narrow streets. As is true with other schools in similar settings, the surrounding neighborhoods are a mix of private residences and homes "ghettoized" into student housing. That is to say, homes built to house a family now provide residence for many more students than the architect intended. The consequence is that too many cars are forced to fight for parking on those beautiful narrow streets. To the city, this is a golden opportunity to enhance revenue through parking violations. An opportunity that the city does not ever pass up, to the consternation of the students and their parents. Indeed, students cannot register for classes, or even graduate, if parking tickets remain unpaid.

The school does provide access to parking facilities, doled out each semester by seniority, which means it is limited and expensive and not available to underclassmen such as myself. But, it is not as expensive as the rates charged by private landowners, for whom the laws of supply and demand provide validation of their economic beliefs every three months.

Having learned the hard way that the student approach to parking, i.e., park anywhere and let an adult worry about the tickets, is not the optimal approach, I have reluctantly arrived at the conclusion that I will have to pay the city for the right to park in one of its garages. This will, I calculate, add approximately $800 to the cost of education, per semester.

The Second Coming

2007-02-02T14:47:00.000-05:00

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the center cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand;
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight; somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

William Butler Yeats, 1921

Sailing Along the Algebra Coast

2007-02-01T15:44:00.000-05:00

The journey of rediscovery has, so far, taken us to a few very interesting places. One place is the Land of Algebra. It has a reputation as a fierce land, foreboding and harsh, unforgiving and unrelenting, a country that many must traverse on their journey to enlightenment. Few choose to live in Algebra, with good reason.

I have been to Algebra, but not in many years. The mists of time have erased many of my memories. What remains is of no use to me on my return visit.

For several weeks now, we have been navigating along the coastline of Algebra, searching for a safe place to land. From our vantage point, the rough coastline has hindered our view of the hinterland. Today, however, we landed at a place called Logarithm. Once ashore, we proceeded inland for a bit. What could not previously be seen is now clear. The inland areas of Algebra are even more terrifying than we thought when seen from the safety of our vessel. It is a land of confusion, of irrational numbers, full of inverse relationships to things that do not make sense even in other lands. It is rooted in functions that we cannot comprehend. It is at once both Real and Imaginary. The future is incalculable, graphic, and indeterminate.

We are very afraid.

The Salt of the Earth

2007-02-01T15:25:00.000-05:00

A great thing about learning is that one has the opportunity to be surprised at any moment. Today's surprise came in our history class. In discussing the development of agriculture, we learned that building and maintaining irrigation systems in Mesopotamia called for the development of societal structures. That is, a system has to be in place to organize the whole infrastructure of water and crops; from this development sprang the many predecessors to modern society. Laws, division of labor, trade, and writing are all the byproducts of a system of agriculture. Fair enough.

The surprise came in the form of this photograph. It seems that ancient bedrock formations are rock over which oceans once existed. Salt was, and is, a component of all oceans on earth. As the ancient Mesopotamians learned to control water, they learned to irrigate. Once they could grow crops, they noticed dramatic increases in yields. To increase yields, they began to excessively water their crop land. This excess water soaked the earth down to the bedrock, which began to release the salt that resided in the rock. The salt worked its way to the surface and, over time, altered the chemical composition of the soil to the extent that the land could no longer grow anything. Thus, today, the formerly fertile Mesopotamian River Valley is an arid wasteland, incapable of supporting any agricultural production.

Has Man been altering his environment literally since the beginning of recorded history?

Note: The photo is the property of the John & Peggy Sanders Collection found here.

I Know J. Alfred Prufrock

2007-01-30T12:15:00.000-05:00

So, we are reading the T.S. Eliot poem, "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock", which is another poem in a succession of readings dealing with time, aging, thoughts, etc. Eliot is reckoned by many to be the most difficult, dense poet to read, given his tendency to use vague historical references while using words and phrases that can convey more than one meaning. On the other hand, one's interpretation of the work can generally find acceptance with the professor since multiple meanings can apply. Yet, the over-arching theme is the indecisive nature of Prufrock, his low self-esteem, and his tendency to procrastinate.

All art finds meaning in the present. While this wonderful work was published in 1917, I have no trouble understanding Prufrock; I know him. He lives today, apparently reincarnated as a friend of mine, known to his friends as The Sad Man (TSM).

TSM is a well educated, attractive professional who lives in a city 100 miles from my hometown. Never married, he has lived life on a slippery downhill slope ever since earning his post-graduate degree. The apogee of his life occurred in the 25th year of his existence. Some 28 years later, he has walked away from at least two serious long-term serious relationships, held, until he was forced out, a low-level job in his profession because he could not make the decision to strike out on his own, and has long tormented his friends with his indecision and last-minute cancellations of social commitments. As well, his closeness with a dollar goes beyond meanness to ridiculous frugality. Perhaps you, too, have a friend like this.

There is a story that captures the essence of Prufrockian behavior as practiced by TSM. It happened many years ago:

A close college friend of TSM was to be married on a posh island off the Northeastern Atlantic coast. Another friend, rapidly climbing the corporate ladder of his family owned business, had access to a corporate jet that could transport the group of college friends to the wedding quickly and efficiently. TSM was invited to join but deferred, claiming that he could not afford his share. The friends agreed to absorb TSM's share, not wanting his cheapness to deprive him of the fellowship of friends.

The plan was set to rendezvous in a common city, where the corporate jet would land and board the party. TSM arrived, met the group, loaded his luggage, and boarded the jet. There was a slight delay while the co-pilot was sent to purchase adult beverages for the two hour flight. TSM sat in the plane, surrounded by his friends, and silently dithered, concerned about spending money, having a fun weekend, and seeing old friends. Before the co-pilot could return, TSM made the decision to deplane.

His friends were aghast. They did not understand his thought process and could not believe that he would actually get off the aircraft. How could he change his mind after making such an effort to commit to the trip? But deplane he did. A minute later, the co-pilot returned with an ice-filled cooler of imported beer, and the crew prepared for takeoff. TSM walked away from the jet, unable to get his luggage removed. The door was closed, the engines spooled up, and the jet, with his friends looking out of the windows and hoping for TSM's change of heart, taxied to the runway and took off. Alone at the airport, TSM could only weep with frustration and sadness, knowing that he had, once again, lived the life of J. Alfred Prufrock.

True Story.

To Strive, To Seek, To Find, And Not To Yield

2007-01-27T21:47:00.000-05:00

A poem that says so much to so many on so many levels:

Ulysses

It little profits that an idle king,
By this still hearth, among these barren crags,
Match'd with an aged wife, I mete and dole
Unequal laws unto a savage race,
That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me.
I cannot rest from travel: I will drink
Life to the lees: All times I have enjoy'd
Greatly, have suffer'd greatly, both with those
That loved me, and alone, on shore, and when
Thro' scudding drifts the rainy Hyades
Vext the dim sea: I am become a name;
For always roaming with a hungry heart
Much have I seen and known; cities of men
And manners, climates, councils, governments,
Myself not least, but honour'd of them all;
And drunk delight of battle with my peers,
Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy.
I am a part of all that I have met;
Yet all experience is an arch wherethro'
Gleams that untravell'd world whose margin fades
For ever and forever when I move.
How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
To rust unburnish'd, not to shine in use!
As tho' to breathe were life! Life piled on life
Were all too little, and of one to me
Little remains: but every hour is saved
From that eternal silence, something more,
A bringer of new things; and vile it were
For some three suns to store and hoard myself,
And this gray spirit yearning in desire
To follow knowledge like a sinking star,
Beyond the utmost bound of human thought.
This is my son, mine own Telemachus,
To whom I leave the sceptre and the isle,--
Well-loved of me, discerning to fulfil
This labour, by slow prudence to make mild
A rugged people, and thro' soft degrees
Subdue them to the useful and the good.
Most blameless is he, centred in the sphere
Of common duties, decent not to fail
In offices of tenderness, and pay
Meet adoration to my household gods,
When I am gone. He works his work, I mine.
There lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail:
There gloom the dark, broad seas. My mariners,
Souls that have toil'd, and wrought, and thought with me--
That ever with a frolic welcome took
The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed
Free hearts, free foreheads--you and I are old;
Old age hath yet his honour and his toil;
Death closes all: but something ere the end,
Some work of noble note, may yet be done,
Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.
The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks:
The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep
Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends,
'T is not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.
It may be that the gulfs will wash us down:
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.
Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho'
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson

The Freshness of Youth

2007-01-26T10:03:00.000-05:00

Among the many challenges involved in a return to academe, there occassionally arise moments of surprise and pleasure. Such was the situation today.

Sitting in my English class, discussing a new poem, the professor was asking questions and guiding us through an analysis of what is considered by many literary experts to be a very dense, difficult poem. As we struggled to interpret the poet's mind, perhaps dimly aware that many great people had tried to do the same with little success, a small femal voice emerged, hesitantly offering her thoughts to the classroom discussion. And provided a moment of great insight!

And it was an insight that had avoided the craters of my aged mind.

Yet again teaching me that wisdom comes to all ages, and oft it is that true wisdom can come from a life not yet lived in its fullness......and therefore is free to think in ways that time can often foreclose.

It's great to be around college kids.