In the process of moving our home office, we’ve come across a 1988 price list for a computer company where Dr. T worked once upon a time, which reveals a couple of things:
1 ~ this is exactly the kind of thing I’m talking about when I complain that the man never throws anything out. I mean really, 1988??
2 ~ computer technology (in case you hadn’t noticed) has skyrocketed in terms of capability and plummeted in terms of price. We are all pretty much aware of this, but the 1988 price list offers some concrete examples:
HP laser printer: $6,750
Hayes 1200 baud external modem: $649
IBM PS/2 (featuring 2 Mb RAM, 115 Mb hard drive – and that’s Mb, not Gb; and there’s no monitor): $14,000 (add $350 for a 12″ black & white monitor, and at least $850 for colour)
Compaq portable 386 (featuring 1 Mb RAM and 40 Mb hard drive): $10,595
Right now, I am creating this entry on my sexy new laptop, which features 2 Gb RAM, 160 Gb hard drive, 17″ anti-glare screen, integrated webcam, wireless, etc., etc., for which I paid about a thousand dollars – one-tenth what I would have had to shell out for that portable Compaq. And my SNL is ‘espresso’ brown – it’s like a huge slab of cyberchocolate.
Just the way I like ’em: sexy, powerful, chocolatey, and, as it turns out, cheap.
Moving day weekend week in perpetuity
In the past week, we’ve undergone some changes here at the old homestead. We decided last Friday that the boys, who have been sharing the largest of our four bedrooms, should have separate rooms. We also figured that it wouldn’t be fair to keep one in the big room while the other moved to a small room, so both boys got a new room, and we lost our home office and guest room.
Colin’s new room
Here’s how it’s working – we dismantled the guest bed, and found a cheap futon frame on craigslist upon which we have set up the futon mattress that used to be on the guest bed. Colin, who was on the upper bunk when the boys were sharing, is in the former guest room with what’s now a loft bed. Robert’s in the former office, and the office – two desks, two chairs, a couple of filing cabinets, half a dozen computers (more on that later), and approximately 2,749 books, along with the “new” futon, has been transplanted to the biggest room.
Heidi relaxes on the “new” futon
From my new office window I have a gorgeous view of the night skyline.
We took this moving exercise as an opportunity to do some book purging:
Robert poses next to the stack of purged books
Of course, this stack represents less than a quarter of my books, so it’s a giant pile, but a small step…
We’re still living in chaos, with closets to be emptied and files to be sorted, not to mention rooms to be “customized” in Colin’s words, but everyone appears to be sleeping well, particularly the cat, who is thrilled to discover beds in every room.
Modesty? Pah!
Check out this photo credit, please.
For those keeping track, this is the second of my photos to make the big time – one of the photos I took in Halifax at the Titanic gravesite is featured in a Swedish site devoted to the disaster.
OK, I can’t compete with my significantly more talented friend, Irene; it’s no book cover, and no money has changed hands, but at least I’ve given that meerkat his fifteen minutes of fame.
But that’s cheating!
Last spring, I encountered a case of plagiarism in one of my Cont. Ed. courses; for an essay assignment, a student submitted a slightly reworded version of an on-line essay available through one of the many Internet study guide sites. At the time, I posted my response, which provoked a few cheers from some of you.
The following addresses the issue of academic ethics in the context of the Internet, and is my first journal entry for the latest M.Ed. course I’m taking, ‘IT and the College Classroom.’ There’s also an interesting thread dealing with academic ethics over on Siobhan’s blog, so if you can still stand looking at your screen once you’re done here, go check it out.
The advent of the Internet has had a profound effect on education, and this effect is both positive and negative. In positive terms, the Internet has exponentially expanded our academic horizons. We have access to research and commentary from fellow academics from around the world. We can read out-of-print books, see rare film adaptations, and hear long-forgotten radio plays, thanks to the ongoing global academic effort to share more and more knowledge among more and more people. The academy in particular, perhaps, benefits from the same non-profit-oriented open source spirit that has given us free software such as Open Office, Linux and Moodle.
Symptoms of the mid-term slump
Next Thursday is officially the middle of the fall semester, and I for one am feeling it. The one good thing is that since I’ve been through this period before, I know what to expect. How can I tell it’s the middle of the semester?
~ I spent all of yesterday in a complete fog. I have no idea how I got from one class to the next, or from home to school and back. I got home and collapsed. I tried to nap, but evil creatures from another planet my children wouldn’t let me.
~ I know that the correcting I have to take care of is reasonably easy, but I still don’t even want to look at it.
~ When students ask innocent questions like “when will you be returning my essay,” I have cartoon visions of them roasting on a spit with apples in their mouths. I might just be hungry.
~ I am having my usual mid-semester dreams. Now, in the past, these have featured guest appearances by such stars as Brad Pitt and Ben Affleck (not at the same time – but there’s an idea). Last night, I dreamt that I had discovered Green & Black’s chocolate at the dollar store. The whole range – even butterscotch. Not to mention the dark cherry. Sigh.
The good news is that past experience tells me that this is not a permanent state of affairs, and that in a matter of days I will be back on track. On the other hand, the fact that this is a recurring phenomenon confirms my belief that we should have an autumn break, because presumably I am not the only person in the academic world whose resources are feeling a little tapped at this stage.
Unfortunately, I personally don’t have the energy required to do anything about changing the system. So if someone else could take care of that, I’d appreciate it. I’ll even sign a petition, as long as you bring it to me. With a pen. And a chocolate bar.
…thus sealing his doom
We are enjoying unseasonably warm weather up here in the hinterland these days. It’s summer-warm and sunny, and I took advantage of this fair weather to get the boys out of the house yesterday afternoon.
Background: for the last few weeks, the boys have been experimenting with independence – they get off the school bus without a grown-up waiting at the stop, let themselves into the house on those days that I get home a little later than they do, and go to the park, two blocks away, without adult supervision.
So when yesterday proved to be yet another beautiful day, and the boys were both finished their homework with lots of daylight left, I sent them off to the park without me.
Half an hour later, the door slammed open and the two boys burst in, simultaneously screaming at me and each other. Colin got to me first:
Colin: “Robert wrote the F-word on the seesaw!!!!!”
Naturally, my reaction was:
“Robert!!!!” (for proper intonation, imagine Fred screaming “Wilma!!!!”)
Robert: “I forgot how to spell the French word for ‘seal*’!!!!”
Since we had already used up our daily quota of exclamation marks, I quietly explained that (a) it’s not OK to write on someone else’s property, even if it’s painfully evident that plenty of other neighbourhood hoodlums don’t agree; (b) using the F-word is an adult privilege and potentially offensive; and (c) I’m not quite that stupid.
*The French word for seal is ‘phoque,’ and is thus a source of great amusement to all of us anglophones at some stage in our elementary career. Ironically, the actual F-word is not particularly taboo in French, since bodily functions, which inform so much English cursing, are not nearly as horrific as taking the Lord’s name in vain in French… but that’s really another story altogether.
Oh, and in case you’re wondering, the ‘writing’ was done with a charred stick and was thus not actually permanent.
Loonie* tunes
This past week, the Canadian dollar reached parity with the American dollar for the first time in 31 years.
31 YEARS!
Not that long ago, we Great White Northerners (the North being white, obviously; this statement is not meant to be exclusionary or unreasonably unaccommodating in any way) were looking at the very real possibility of our “dollar” being valued at 50 American cents. We certainly hit the low 60s, and we dipped into the 50s in daily trading more than once.
So, what does this mean, this valuable money thing? Can we, as it were, cash in on it?
The silver-dollar lining (a.k.a. the upside):
~ cross-border shopping, particularly all those fantastic outlet stores so conveniently located just beyond the crossing. Assuming the outlets are still there; it’s been a while since cross-border shopping was an activity in which sane Canadians engaged.
~ virtual cross-border shopping: eBay and Barnes & Noble, here I come!
~ political ramifications: we can talk smugly about how our government appears to be actually governing domestically, unlike some demagogues we could name. We can, but we won’t. Much. That would be gauche (from the French for ‘left.’ Coincidence??)
The cloud:
~ tourism: we’re not so attractive now that we’ve lost our banana-republic-with-skiing status. American tourists have gotten used to becoming millionaires just by driving a few miles north; they may have second thoughts about vacationing in what is essentially exactly like home, but with indiscriminate use of needless ‘u’s.
~ impact on the GNP (yes, I know what that is. I may be an English teacher, but I’m not completely clueless): a lot of Canadian manufacturers have been exploiting the exchange rate for years now, making a tidy profit on American sales paid in American dollars for products made with cheaper Canadian raw materials by cheaper Canadian workers. Ditto the movie industry – every city in Canada calls itself ‘Hollywood North’ because loads of U.S. films are made here (Mira Sorvino was in our neighbours’ house, for instance) because the location fees are cheap, the equipment is cheap, the labour is cheap, the tax incentives are, well, incentive… you get the idea. Except now, all of this is true in the past tense – our unionized key grips are still making $18 Canadian an hour, but two years ago, that was about $13 U.S. – now it’s $18 U.S.
~ political ramifications: we achieved parity under Stephen Harper’s Conservatives, albeit with a minority. But c’mon, they’re going to milk this economic upswing for every drop of political punch – and if they’re really smart, they’ll call an election ASAP, which means a winter vote, which means that the annoying holiday advertisement will have to compete for space with annoying campaigning. And they’ll win.
~ at-home shopping! This is the big one for the average individual Canadian. For example, Harry Potter & the Deathly Hallows is listed at $34.99 US at Barnes & Noble, but the Canadian list price at Chapters is $45. The Gazette compared a few items in an article in yesterday’s paper, including a Honda that was about $3,000 more in Canada than in the U.S., albeit with a different sound system. I doubt we’re talking about a sound system worth 3K, though.
Now, having said that, when I did some quick surfing to back up my price-gouging rant, I discovered that we GWN’s seem to be getting a pretty good deal on some things. The ubiquitous iPod nano, f’rintstance, retails on the American Best Buy site for $129, but only $119 on the Canadian site. The two Amazons both carry the about-to-be-released Blue Rodeo album Small Miracles, which we can pre-order for $14.96 – but Americans have to buy the same album as an import for $31.99.
Still, the book thing – which also applies to magazines, which are typically about 30% more in Canadian dollars – sucks.
*explanatory note for non-Canadians. Our dollar coin (the paper dollar is a thing of the ancient past) features a loon, one of our notable water fowl. Since it’s introduction, this coin has been called the Loonie. When the two-dollar coin was introduced a couple of years later, we naturally called it the Toonie. No one can say that, as a nation, we take ourselves too seriously.
The fox hat
Thanks, Dad!
You can call me “guv”
Tonight was “meet the teacher” night at the boys’ school; naturally, as a teacher (not to mention an overeager student) I went prepared with a series of questions designed to (a) help me understand what my children would be learning, and how, and why, and (b) establish me in their teachers’ minds as ‘that annoying mum who keeps interrupting my presentation with endless questions about skills and assessments.’ Mission accomplished.
Before we even got to the teachers themselves, though, there was a general assembly of parents to elect the parent representatives to the Board of Governors. This is a group of parents, teachers and administrators that meets once a month to discuss pertinent issues and make decisions for the school on behalf of all the interested parties. I offered myself as a nominee because one administrator cornered me as we were assembling and said “we really want you.”
Okay, so I’m a sucker.
So, I raised my hand, and my name went up on the board, along with seven other parents, some of whom had previous Board experience, and another couple of newbies. Since there are only six parent reps, one of whom is already in place, we had to vote for the five available positions ~ which meant that all of us nominees had to campaign, in the sense that we had to say a few words to justify our nomination. So I mentioned that not only did I have two kids in the school, and that I had volunteered for a few other things in the past, but that I was a college teacher and was studying for an M.Ed., and could thus bring a unique perspective to the Board.
Apparently, that was enough to get me elected to the Board, and subsequently, the Board itself has appointed me as the alternate sector rep, which means that once a month I might be asked to go to yet another meeting, this time with parent reps from other schools in our area, if the actual rep can’t make it.
All of this means that I have a chance to get to know the inner workings of the school a little better, and can add my voice to issues that directly affect my children’s education.
More importantly, obviously, is the fact that people voted for me in a school election.
In your face, 1986 prom committee!! 
Is this what they mean when they say “boys will be boys”?
**Crash**
…I stop typing to see if there’s any wailing…
“wail, wail, wail, wail”
….I hold my breath to see if this wailing will stop on its own, as it usually does. Footsteps on the stairs…
“Mummy, Robert really hurt himself.”
…I get to the bottom of the stairs, where I find a crumpled heap of Robert ~ naturally I am expecting something truly horrible, like his leg is sticking out at an unnatural angle, or the top of his head is missing. There appears to be no blood, however, nor are there any visible bones.
Robert sits up, moans a little…
I ask “what happened?”, as we mothers are wont to do. In fact, I think it’s probably a safe bet to say that “what happened” is the question most frequently asked by parents.
This is what happened: Robert bruised his shin because, while he and Colin were taking turns “catching” each other at the bottom of the stairs, Robert failed to catch Colin and bumped his leg.
Oy.