Once upon a time, you had to be nice to Ma Bell, because she was the only game in town. The national phone company had a coast-to-coast monopoly, and you paid the going rate for basic service (which was all there was). If you had a falling out with the Bell behemoth, you were screwed – Bell didn’t care if they “lost” your business, because there were several million other people who obediently paid their bills on time, every time. (Aside: this monopoly was the incentive for several of my friends to live under one or more assumed names when we were living our salad days in university.)
But lo, there was a revolution, and Ma Bell had no choice to become competitive, and actually work to keep you. Gone were the days of taking customers for granted; these days, the old girl has to seduce you with sexy lingerie and phone/cel/video/internet packages. So, good, the customer wins, obviously. All these companies are working the bottom line to keep us coming back for more, lest we hook up with some one else, some one younger and cheaper. Right?
So why, in the fine print under the big Bell ad for home service for $14.95 a month, does it turn out we’re getting screwed to the tune of $2.80 for touch tone service? Touch tone!
I’m sorry, but given that my kids – and probably my college students – have never used a rotary dial, why are we paying over $33 a year for touch tone service? Does non-touch tone service even exist anymore?
Oh, and we’re paying 19 cents a month for 911 service, but I’m going to give that one the benefit of the doubt and assume that this money covers actual service, i.e., people answering emergency calls, updated equipment, and the like.
Grumble.
What do you do with a problem like Sharia?
So apparently the Archbishop of Canterbury is all for integrating Sharia law into the British courts, and his saying so publicly has drawn a barrage of criticism from just about every direction.
Frankly, I’m not prepared to take a stand one way or the other (well, yes I am, in the sense that it’s pretty clear to me that a secular, democratic nation, be it the UK, the USA, Canada, or any other nation that claims to be one, should by definition remove any non-secular references from its legislation, beyond the inclusion of religious belief being a fundamental right of the citizenry – but I digress). Nor do I want to make any comment along the lines of “isn’t it funny how a nation whose history over the last half-millennium has been primarily shaped by its rejection of the papacy sticks a different funny hat on a different aging priest, particularly one whose eyebrows are, frankly, outrageous, and considers it front-page news when this guy throws in his two pence.”
My actual rant is about the Prime Minister (theirs, not ours), who in reference to the A of C’s “support” of Sharia law in Britain said that “British laws should be based on British values.”
Ahem.
It seems to me that if there are enough people in Britain for whom the Sharia issue is relevant, which is a fair assumption, then perhaps, just maybe, the PM might consider that the values of these people – traditional (read white Christian) values notwithstanding – are, at least in part, British values. No?
As I said, I am not trying to get into whether or not there is a place for religious law in national courts. In fact, there seems to be a fairly strong indication from vocal religious groups that they’re not really interested in redefining British law. But to arrogantly say “we’re not doing the Sharia thing cuz it’s not British” is tantamount to saying “you can be Muslim, or you can be British, but you can’t be both.”
Harumph.
Ok, I’m done now – told you I’d find something to rant about.
Life intimidates art
And so begins yet another “so sorry I haven’t posted for so long” post. Personally, I blame Facebook (along with work and children and the need for sleep). Once upon a time, when random thoughts crossed my mind, I would inflict them on you, dear reader. Now, I update my Facebook status, instead.
For instance, rather than posting a few paragraphs today on just how weird it is that the whole continent sits around on February 2nd waiting for a rodent, I simply updated my status to “Maggie hasn’t seen her shadow, but she’s pretty sure it’s around here somewhere.”
simple.
tidy.
Also, it’s always interesting to write about oneself in the third person.
Anyway, to make a long story bulleted, this is what’s been going on, other than Facebook:
~ my three evening courses turned into three day courses, which is awesome;
~ because I have day courses instead of evening courses, my semester started a week earlier than anticipated, which is less awesome;
~ because I have day courses instead of evening courses, I get to eat supper at home with my family, and Dr. T. can continue his long journey to Carnegie Hall*;
~ I’m teaching an ‘advanced’ Intro course, which is awesome;
~ my picture** was in the paper, along with several direct quotes, none of which were completely out of context; again, awesome;
~ my car, the one that was, let’s face it, the deal of the century (and not just because we’re only a few years into the century), went to the big garage in the sky; anti-awesome.
Other than that, life around here these days is pretty much good – everyone (except the car) is healthy, I still love my job (particularly now that the initial panic of starting early has passed), and it’s February – groundhogs and stupid icy windy snowy weather notwithstanding, winter is zipping by.
I’m sure I’ll find something to rant about one of these days – after all, essay season’s looming.
*more on the Carnegie Hall thing another time, I promise
**unfortunately, the on-line version of the story does not feature the photo. But you should read it anyway.
Words at a loss
This afternoon, we said goodbye to my grandmother. I spoke at the service, and I wanted to share those words (more or less) here.
Less than five years ago, I wrote about Jane. This is what I said then:
My grandmother is 85. She has all her own teeth, and does not use Miss Clairol to keep her hair brown. She wears a hearing aid, but no glasses. She is definitely all there mentally. She has Parkinson’s, and is now confined to a wheelchair. She lives in a private room in a nursing home. When she needs to pee, she has to ring her bell for help. Geographically, I am her closest relative and I live more than an hour away by car.
Since then, things changed. In recent months, visiting with Jane was a fascinating and often amusing trip through her past. She told me about her life as a child, a teenager, a new bride, a mother, a mother with teenagers… she told me these things not as memories, but as moments that she was reliving. It would be easy to shake our heads and say “how sad”, that she was no longer “all there.” But listening to those moments from her long life, I learned that it was a good, happy life. The moments she relived were bright spots, and those are the kinds of moments we should all relive once in a while, to remind ourselves how blessed we are.
My sister, my brother, our cousins and I were blessed with the quintessential grandma. Grandma Jane was short and round and bustling, with rosy cheeks and bright blue eyes. Christmas meant Grandma Jane’s crescent cookies, and summer meant her Jell-O salad. She was so proud of all of us, too.
I am sad that we have to say goodbye. But I am so glad that we had her for as long as we did, and that we have so many bright spots of our own, thanks to her. I still remember just how orange that Jell-O salad was, and the way those almond cookies melted in my mouth. I remember Christmas mornings waking up in the bunk beds. I remember the ladies dancing across the mantelpiece. I remember the blue candy dish that never ran out of pink peppermints. We all have our special memories of Jane, which means that she will always be with us.
Thank you.
Reflections and Predictions
So, this is 2008. Which begs the question, what the heck happened to 2007?
The past year has been a good one for me, and this is no doubt why it flew by. The following may be an exercise in cliche and/or narcissism, but hey, no one’s holding a gun to your head (I hope). Read on at your own discretion.
Plugged-in Pedagogy
IT in the College Classroom
Journal #2
As a long-time user of IT, I consider myself an early adapter and a skilled user, at least compared to non-professional IT experts! My mother was a computer programmer in the 1960s, and we had a computer at home while I was still in high school, so I have been surrounded by, and comfortable with, IT for a long time. As such, I tend to be a member of the “if it’s IT-based, it must be better” school – if we can toss something on-line, and make it more widely accessible, then why not? I haven’t changed my mind about the immense benefits and awesome potential of IT; however, I have learned to be more aware of the pedagogy that informs my IT designs, and to consider whether or not the IT tools that I am comfortable with are the best ones for the job.
Wish list: time machine…
…or that time-turner thing Hermione wears that allows her to be in three places at once.
I have finished grading!
*and there was much rejoicing*
I still have a handful of essays to comment on for a few students that are still interested in my feedback, but the marks are done, and the commenting can wait until after the holidays. The distance-learning interview was Tuesday morning, and went very well, but since I won’t hear anything about it until mid-January, I can put that item away for the moment, too.
I still have my own final papers to write for the MEd course, and I have officially been given a full load for the winter semester, which means revamping my course plans and course texts for three courses, but I’m feeling a lot more relaxed about this stuff since my grades are done.
The kids are home as of noon today, and Dr. T. is off from today until the 7th, so we have a good long family time ahead of us; we have two final shopping stops to make, and lots of wrapping to do, not to mention baking and cooking for the feast, but again, all good business*. We even survived the “Mum, I need cookies for tomorrow‘s class party” scenario.
So, perhaps not the peace that passes understanding, but at least we’re no longer in total panic mode. Happy holidays everyone!
*the shopping is only good business in the sense that we’re heading out as soon as the stores open this morning, which means even with ridiculous lines and crowds, we’ll be home by noon and the whole damn thing will be behind us for another year.
Insert witty title here
Classes are over, which means I’ve entered the pyjama phase of the semester, characterized by towering stacks of essays and test booklets, red-ink-stained fingers, neck cramps, and frequent disbelieving glances at the calendar (December 14th? Really?!?). The silver lining is that, as the name implies, the pyjama phase is also characterized by not having to leave the house at all, which manifests itself as not getting dressed until about five minutes before the kids get home from school.
The pyjama phase is also, I think, the part of my job that is overlooked when people (not you, obviously) make statements to the effect that teachers are spoiled, what with the great hours and ultra-long vacations. Yes, it’s true that I’m not teaching now – but does that mean I can now relax, play in the snow with my kids, get all the holiday baking done, and finish my Christmas shopping? Ha.
Before I can get to any of that, I have to correct:
~ approximately 100 final essays
~ 25 grammar tests
~ 150 journal entries
~ 100 self-evaluations
~ 10 web pages
~ several rewritten essays from earlier in the semester
~ other stuff I have no doubt conveniently forgotten
Oh, and I have to write two final project papers for the MEd course I’m taking. Also, I have an interview with a committee that wants to put together an on-line genre course.
In May, when we get to the pyjama phase of the winter semester, things are pretty relaxed despite the mountains of corrections, because at least that’s all there is. In December, however, there’s the whole holiday thing. I have no decorations up. No presents bought. No cookies baked. What I do have is somewhere to be just about every night – last night and the night before it was Robert’s Nutcracker performance, tonight it’s Aurora’s Cheeseball, tomorrow it’s Susana’s Swedish sing-a-long, Sunday it’s the Montreal Welsh Male Choir, for which I’m taking photos, etc., etc. I think the only night we’re not going somewhere is next Friday, when Terence, Irene, Dave and Kate are coming here. Aurora’s right – teachers need an extension for all the Christmas stuff.
Having said all that, let me say this, too: I love it. I love that I had a full teaching load this semester, with very few dropouts, which is why the piles are so towering; I love that the piles will take time because so many of my students asked for my feedback; I love that the MEd courses provide such opportunity for exploration and learning; I love that we are so active and have so many friends that we have invitations to juggle.
And the pyjamas. I love that, too.
Green and white and read all over
We awoke this morning to a veritable winter wonderland, made all the more wonderful by the announcement that all schools in our area were closed. Unfortunately, this edict did not extend to colleges, but betting on the improbability of any of my students braving the blizzard just for a few more pearls of wisdom, I canceled my classes. It’s week 15 – twist my arm.
The one apparent downside to this unexpectedly leisurely morning was that the paper was not on the porch – which, let’s be fair, was not a big surprise. To our delivery person’s credit, the paper was only about an hour late, which I’m sure was not the case for many subscribers this blustery morning.
So I poured myself a cup of coffee and went back to bed, not with the usual reams of newsprint, but with the sexy new laptop (really, any excuse to get it into bed ~ it’s just that sexy) and downloaded the digital edition of The Gazette. In the past I have avoided this because at heart I am a traditionalist – are you really ‘reading’ the paper if it’s not strewn across the bed, falling onto the floor, suffocating your sleeping spouse, and generally being awkward?
As it turns out, yes.
So as soon as the sales office opened, I called in, canceled my print subscription, and subscribed to the digital edition. Think of me the next time you’re admiring a tree – I saved it.
And in other news…
Not surprisingly, Heidi has gone into winter mode, which consists mainly of sleeping, punctuated by the occasional 4 a.m. yowl, and increasingly intermittent trips to the front/back door to see if winter’s over yet. New this year, however, are the two top choices for sleeping – under the bed and under the bathtub. How is this news, you wonder (particularly if you’re not a cat person)?
Heidi snores.
Now, granted, according to the experts, when your cat snores it’s a sign that the cat trusts you. Well, apparently Heidi thinks of us as the Swiss bankers of the cat world, because she snores louder than any of the humans on the premises.
Which can be disorienting, when the snores are coming from under the tub.
Even more so when you walk into your bedroom and find your sleeping spouse* is apparently a somno-ventriloquist.
*Dr. T really does do more than sleep, these two anecdotes notwithstanding.
This land is your land…
So Robert, no doubt inspired by the on-going reasonable accommodation three-ring circus consultations, is drawing an elaborate map of a country he calls Peace. This is an interesting example of how Robert’s brain works – his older brother is obsessed with maps and all things logical, and naturally Robert wants to emulate his big brother, so he is drawing maps. On the other hand, Robert is a much more creative, fluid soul – so the main island of this “country” is a random shape divided into various “provinces,” each of which represents something that Robert thinks of as peaceful: babies, poppies, lullabies, rainbows, doves, and so on. Smaller islands, with bridges connecting everyone, represent world religions, because (regardless of the aforementioned reasonable accommodation utter fiasco consultations) we’ve tried to teach our boys that every religion we know promotes peace.
Now, to be fair, although the concepts are crystal clear, Robert’s spelling is filled with unintentional double-entendre – the country, for instance, is actually called “Piece.” Also, there’s an island of Muslins.