Tuesday, October 24, 2006
Monday, October 23, 2006
If I see one more job posting. . .
. . .that includes the word "transnational," I'm going to scream.
Seriously. Especially after the pretty dreadful sessions of the transnationally-themed American Studies Association conference this year.
I'm also beginning to regret not focusing on "comparative ethnic studies." Apparently that's hot, too. Or is it just another way of saying "transnationalism"?
Seriously. Especially after the pretty dreadful sessions of the transnationally-themed American Studies Association conference this year.
I'm also beginning to regret not focusing on "comparative ethnic studies." Apparently that's hot, too. Or is it just another way of saying "transnationalism"?
Sunday, October 22, 2006
<~zot!
Blogrolling, which manages my blogroll, must be on the fritz, as every single blog on my blogroll has a <~zot! next to it.
<~zot!
<~zot!
<~zot!
<~zot!
<~zot!
Sorry. Just needed to get that out of my system.
<~zot!
<~zot!
<~zot!
<~zot!
<~zot!
Sorry. Just needed to get that out of my system.
Confessions of an ambivalent adjunct
The more I apply for academic jobs, the less I want one.
Maybe it's a function of all the lecturing I have to do this quarter. When I was a TA, I'd have occasional opportunities to lecture in front of a class the size of the one I have this quarter (100 students). But that was usually well into the quarter, so half the students in the class knew me and my sense of humor--and seemed to like me for it--and totally had my back. Other times, I've lectured for classes where I wasn't working with the students, where I was invited to talk or where I was a reader and the professor had to leave town for a week. And then, too, the students were responsive.
But now that I'm in charge? Frequently it's like talking to a wall. I mix it up with small group activities, "turn to your partner and tell them. . ." moments, video and audio, etc.
Would it be inappropriate to wad up a ball of paper and toss it at the student who sits directly in front of me and then proceeds to nod off during every class? Seriously.
I know I'm not yet a great lecturer, but relative to the other stuff the kids have had to sit through, I imagine my lectures aren't bad.
Last class, we read a chapter from Thomas Frank's What's the Matter with Kansas? How Conservatives Won the Heart of America. The chapter covers the diverse communities in Kansas, from trailer-park-dwelling meatpackers to wealthy McMansion owners. In it, Frank illustrates that the vast majority of Kansans--working class folks--vote against their own economic and social self-interest by supporting Republican candidates. He also makes references to Populism.
As a companion to this reading, I chose some of the artifacts and phenomena Frank mentions in the chapter and elaborated on them as well as on some popular conceptions of Kansas. So I talked about Populism, The Wizard of Oz (and Populism), megachurches, and Thomas Kinkade. I showed a video of Kinkade talking about his work. I made connections among these phenomena and talked about the shift in values over the course of the 20th century. We finished with a discussion of middlebrow culture.
Throughout the lecture, I used music to evoke a response from students. I opened class with "Carry on My Wayward Son" by the band Kansas (of Topeka). I played the smooth jazz Frank calls the soundtrack of "Cupcake Land" (one columnist's name for the developers' suburban haven of Overland Park, KS). I played a piece by Rush to flesh out Frank's illustration of Emporia. I played praise music by Kathie Lee Gifford. And I played a union song ("Bread and Roses," as performed by Utah Phillips and Ani di Franco--it's wonderful and available on iTunes).
Have you ever tried to lecture to a background of smooth jazz? It's not easy. (I promised the students I would turn off the music if they answered my questions. Hands went up.)
For the most part, however, the students just didn't get into it. And I'm frustrated. I can't just stand up there and explicate the chapter for them--that's their job, and if they have questions about the text, they can discuss the chapter with their TAs in section. So instead I've been putting together these mini-lectures, which I intersperse with activities or discussions that ask students to make connections among what on the surface seem to be divergent phenomena.
After all, that's what American studies is supposed to do: make connections. In the past, I've been successful at getting students to learn how to do this, but I'm thinking 100 students just might be too many for me to reach at once.
Finally, a question for you all: When I was a TA, I didn't like it when faculty told me what to do in section. I knew my students, I knew what they needed, and I knew how to deliver to those needs. Sure, if a professor wanted me to cover something generally, that was fine--but I wanted to cover it in my own way. Accordingly, I haven't been telling my two TAs what to do in their sections. And now, my friends, I've hit a roadblock.
The first assignment for the course is a very short (2.5-3 page) paper that gives students the opportunity to practice writing what will be for many of them their first college essay. Therefore, it's a fairly highly structured and focused prompt. I'm asking the students to:
- watch M. Night Shyamalan's The Village
- identify what the villagers perceive to be the threats to their community
- name what the students believe are the actual threats to the community
- argue whether or not these threats are ones that have been perceived by or experienced by the historical communities we've read about and discussed in class, and then explain their significance.
One of my TAs discussed The Village in her sections, helping students see how to address the prompt. The other one feels very strongly that students should have to interpret the movie on their own, that we've done enough hand-holding with them on the course readings about the historical communities. As a result, she has not discussed the movie in her sections. (FYI, I agree with her approach.)
How the hell am I going to norm the grades for this essay? My experience has been that the TAs and professor get together and all read the same 4-6 essays, then decide by consensus (or by the professor's declaration) what grade each paper deserves.
I thought it might be possible for the TA who helped her students with the prompt to grade the essays a bit more harshly than the TA who didn't, but it's becoming increasingly apparent that such an approach isn't going to work.
Meanwhile, the students are floundering. I had one freshman in the second TA's sections come to me with a "thesis" for her essay that wasn't arguable and that showed she didn't really understand the movie. Argh!
I see a major fiasco on the horizon. What to do? The paper is due on Thursday, and the second TA's sections meet, I think, on Wednesday and Thursday after lecture, so it's too late to command her to talk about the film with her students.
Ideas?
Maybe it's a function of all the lecturing I have to do this quarter. When I was a TA, I'd have occasional opportunities to lecture in front of a class the size of the one I have this quarter (100 students). But that was usually well into the quarter, so half the students in the class knew me and my sense of humor--and seemed to like me for it--and totally had my back. Other times, I've lectured for classes where I wasn't working with the students, where I was invited to talk or where I was a reader and the professor had to leave town for a week. And then, too, the students were responsive.
But now that I'm in charge? Frequently it's like talking to a wall. I mix it up with small group activities, "turn to your partner and tell them. . ." moments, video and audio, etc.
Would it be inappropriate to wad up a ball of paper and toss it at the student who sits directly in front of me and then proceeds to nod off during every class? Seriously.
I know I'm not yet a great lecturer, but relative to the other stuff the kids have had to sit through, I imagine my lectures aren't bad.
Last class, we read a chapter from Thomas Frank's What's the Matter with Kansas? How Conservatives Won the Heart of America. The chapter covers the diverse communities in Kansas, from trailer-park-dwelling meatpackers to wealthy McMansion owners. In it, Frank illustrates that the vast majority of Kansans--working class folks--vote against their own economic and social self-interest by supporting Republican candidates. He also makes references to Populism.
As a companion to this reading, I chose some of the artifacts and phenomena Frank mentions in the chapter and elaborated on them as well as on some popular conceptions of Kansas. So I talked about Populism, The Wizard of Oz (and Populism), megachurches, and Thomas Kinkade. I showed a video of Kinkade talking about his work. I made connections among these phenomena and talked about the shift in values over the course of the 20th century. We finished with a discussion of middlebrow culture.
Throughout the lecture, I used music to evoke a response from students. I opened class with "Carry on My Wayward Son" by the band Kansas (of Topeka). I played the smooth jazz Frank calls the soundtrack of "Cupcake Land" (one columnist's name for the developers' suburban haven of Overland Park, KS). I played a piece by Rush to flesh out Frank's illustration of Emporia. I played praise music by Kathie Lee Gifford. And I played a union song ("Bread and Roses," as performed by Utah Phillips and Ani di Franco--it's wonderful and available on iTunes).
Have you ever tried to lecture to a background of smooth jazz? It's not easy. (I promised the students I would turn off the music if they answered my questions. Hands went up.)
For the most part, however, the students just didn't get into it. And I'm frustrated. I can't just stand up there and explicate the chapter for them--that's their job, and if they have questions about the text, they can discuss the chapter with their TAs in section. So instead I've been putting together these mini-lectures, which I intersperse with activities or discussions that ask students to make connections among what on the surface seem to be divergent phenomena.
After all, that's what American studies is supposed to do: make connections. In the past, I've been successful at getting students to learn how to do this, but I'm thinking 100 students just might be too many for me to reach at once.
Finally, a question for you all: When I was a TA, I didn't like it when faculty told me what to do in section. I knew my students, I knew what they needed, and I knew how to deliver to those needs. Sure, if a professor wanted me to cover something generally, that was fine--but I wanted to cover it in my own way. Accordingly, I haven't been telling my two TAs what to do in their sections. And now, my friends, I've hit a roadblock.
The first assignment for the course is a very short (2.5-3 page) paper that gives students the opportunity to practice writing what will be for many of them their first college essay. Therefore, it's a fairly highly structured and focused prompt. I'm asking the students to:
- watch M. Night Shyamalan's The Village
- identify what the villagers perceive to be the threats to their community
- name what the students believe are the actual threats to the community
- argue whether or not these threats are ones that have been perceived by or experienced by the historical communities we've read about and discussed in class, and then explain their significance.
One of my TAs discussed The Village in her sections, helping students see how to address the prompt. The other one feels very strongly that students should have to interpret the movie on their own, that we've done enough hand-holding with them on the course readings about the historical communities. As a result, she has not discussed the movie in her sections. (FYI, I agree with her approach.)
How the hell am I going to norm the grades for this essay? My experience has been that the TAs and professor get together and all read the same 4-6 essays, then decide by consensus (or by the professor's declaration) what grade each paper deserves.
I thought it might be possible for the TA who helped her students with the prompt to grade the essays a bit more harshly than the TA who didn't, but it's becoming increasingly apparent that such an approach isn't going to work.
Meanwhile, the students are floundering. I had one freshman in the second TA's sections come to me with a "thesis" for her essay that wasn't arguable and that showed she didn't really understand the movie. Argh!
I see a major fiasco on the horizon. What to do? The paper is due on Thursday, and the second TA's sections meet, I think, on Wednesday and Thursday after lecture, so it's too late to command her to talk about the film with her students.
Ideas?
On my ballot
13 state propositions, 4 local measures. Who the hell has time to research all of these?
Saturday, October 21, 2006
Ethical dilemma
I'm vegetarian, but I'm not evangelical about it. I'm not out to convert people, especially people who live relatively sustainably in the third world, to my diet.
Nonetheless, I was excited when this year's Heifer International catalog showed the opportunity to donate--in lieu of the usual pigs, cows, chickens, or rabbits--a "knitting basket" (four wool-producing animals for one family), honeybees, and tree seedlings. I'm not nearly generous enough with charities that help the poor, so I thought, "What the hey, I'll donate some honeybees and seedlings."
But then I read the fine print on page 3 of the catalog: "Each purchase from this catalog represents a contribution to the entire mission of Heifer International. Donations will be used where needed most to help struggling people."
Hmmmm. So now I have a dilemma. I don't want to presume to say exactly what struggling people should eat--after all, people need protein--but I also don't want my donation supporting the eventual slaughter of animals.
Thoughts? Do you know of vegetarian-friendly charities that also do good work?
Nonetheless, I was excited when this year's Heifer International catalog showed the opportunity to donate--in lieu of the usual pigs, cows, chickens, or rabbits--a "knitting basket" (four wool-producing animals for one family), honeybees, and tree seedlings. I'm not nearly generous enough with charities that help the poor, so I thought, "What the hey, I'll donate some honeybees and seedlings."
But then I read the fine print on page 3 of the catalog: "Each purchase from this catalog represents a contribution to the entire mission of Heifer International. Donations will be used where needed most to help struggling people."
Hmmmm. So now I have a dilemma. I don't want to presume to say exactly what struggling people should eat--after all, people need protein--but I also don't want my donation supporting the eventual slaughter of animals.
Thoughts? Do you know of vegetarian-friendly charities that also do good work?
Typical conversation with Lucas
Me: Where's your nose?
Lucas: (looks quizzical)
Me: Where's your nose?
Lucas: (points to dog)
Me: That's the dog. Where's your nose? (I touch his nose.) There's your nose. (pause) Where's your nose?
Lucas: (points to dog)
Me: Yes, the dog has a nose. Very good. But where's your nose?
Lucas: Mmm-mmm-mmm-mmm.
Me: You're hungry? OK. We'll find your nose later.
Lucas: Deh dah!
Me: Yes, that's the dog.
Lucas: Mmm-mmm-mmm-mmm-mmmmmmmm.
Lucas: (looks quizzical)
Me: Where's your nose?
Lucas: (points to dog)
Me: That's the dog. Where's your nose? (I touch his nose.) There's your nose. (pause) Where's your nose?
Lucas: (points to dog)
Me: Yes, the dog has a nose. Very good. But where's your nose?
Lucas: Mmm-mmm-mmm-mmm.
Me: You're hungry? OK. We'll find your nose later.
Lucas: Deh dah!
Me: Yes, that's the dog.
Lucas: Mmm-mmm-mmm-mmm-mmmmmmmm.
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
Letters to products from my bathroom cupboards
Because I've been meaning to whine, dammit. This post is not for the queasy, I assure you.
* * *
Dear Always ultra thin pads with LeakGuard Core(TM)+ Barriers,
I have always been a big fan of you, especially since you slimmed down in the 1990s. That said, I am sick and tired of you changing your packaging, labeling, and design every two months. It's hard to find you on the store shelves, and your latest "improvements" aren't beneficial at all.
First, the sticky part is now too sticky. When I try to remove a pad, it tears apart. Icky!
Second, the slick little piece of wax paper that covers your wings when you're first removed from the wrapper really, really, really need not tell me to "Have a happy period."
Seriously.
Your monthly friend,
trillwing
* * *
Dear Bausch & Lomb PureVision Toric contact lenses,
You suck. You are waaaaaaay too thick. You chafe my eyes. I don't know why I didn't notice this when I tried on the sample pair at the optometrist's office. They told me you're the improved version of my old contacts. And now I'm stuck with a year's supply of you and I am not happy. Seriously, who would wear you for 30 days nonstop? I can't keep you in my eyes for an hour without wanting to claw my corneas.
Bloodshottily yours,
trillwing
* * *
Dear Maximum Strength Wart-Off,
Every time I begin to use you during my biannual battles with plantar wars, you get my hopes up. You work for six weeks, and then. . .then you stop working altogether. Why, why?! You know that means I must go get liquid nitrogen treatments, which means blisters, which means I can't walk for two days.
You are a vicious tease.
Salicylically yours,
trillwing
* * *
Dear Band-Aid Brand Adhesive Bandages 85th Anniversary Collector's Edition tin,
You seduced me in the store. I was looking for the distinctive Band-Aid tin smell of my childhood. Where is it? You merely smell ever-so-mildly perfumed. I long for that nauseatingly plasticky scent that evokes maternal and paternal care.
Damn you!
trillwing
* * *
Dear citalopram,
I loooooooove you, but I would like to end mydependence on affair with you. Why, why must it be such a bitch to live without you?
Yours in enhanced serotonin levels,
trillwing
* * *
Dear Always ultra thin pads with LeakGuard Core(TM)+ Barriers,
I have always been a big fan of you, especially since you slimmed down in the 1990s. That said, I am sick and tired of you changing your packaging, labeling, and design every two months. It's hard to find you on the store shelves, and your latest "improvements" aren't beneficial at all.
First, the sticky part is now too sticky. When I try to remove a pad, it tears apart. Icky!
Second, the slick little piece of wax paper that covers your wings when you're first removed from the wrapper really, really, really need not tell me to "Have a happy period."
Seriously.
Your monthly friend,
trillwing
* * *
Dear Bausch & Lomb PureVision Toric contact lenses,
You suck. You are waaaaaaay too thick. You chafe my eyes. I don't know why I didn't notice this when I tried on the sample pair at the optometrist's office. They told me you're the improved version of my old contacts. And now I'm stuck with a year's supply of you and I am not happy. Seriously, who would wear you for 30 days nonstop? I can't keep you in my eyes for an hour without wanting to claw my corneas.
Bloodshottily yours,
trillwing
* * *
Dear Maximum Strength Wart-Off,
Every time I begin to use you during my biannual battles with plantar wars, you get my hopes up. You work for six weeks, and then. . .then you stop working altogether. Why, why?! You know that means I must go get liquid nitrogen treatments, which means blisters, which means I can't walk for two days.
You are a vicious tease.
Salicylically yours,
trillwing
* * *
Dear Band-Aid Brand Adhesive Bandages 85th Anniversary Collector's Edition tin,
You seduced me in the store. I was looking for the distinctive Band-Aid tin smell of my childhood. Where is it? You merely smell ever-so-mildly perfumed. I long for that nauseatingly plasticky scent that evokes maternal and paternal care.
Damn you!
trillwing
* * *
Dear citalopram,
I loooooooove you, but I would like to end my
Yours in enhanced serotonin levels,
trillwing
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
We have toddler!
On Saturday, Lucas took his first two steps by himself.
On Sunday, he practiced standing without support.
On Monday, he invented a game that involves standing up on our bed and falling backward into our arms.
That's the fun news.
On Sunday, as if to confirm his toddler status, he also threw his first temper tantrum. I'm talking about a face-rubbed-into-the-carpet, fists-pounding-the-floor, legs-kicking, high-pitched-screaming tantrum.
The fit came about because I was trying to prevent him from slamming his fingers in my desk drawers. I suggested we read a book instead. And then the tantrum commenced.
Wow. We're in for some rough waters.
On Sunday, he practiced standing without support.
On Monday, he invented a game that involves standing up on our bed and falling backward into our arms.
That's the fun news.
On Sunday, as if to confirm his toddler status, he also threw his first temper tantrum. I'm talking about a face-rubbed-into-the-carpet, fists-pounding-the-floor, legs-kicking, high-pitched-screaming tantrum.
The fit came about because I was trying to prevent him from slamming his fingers in my desk drawers. I suggested we read a book instead. And then the tantrum commenced.
Wow. We're in for some rough waters.
Saturday, October 14, 2006
Dooced before it was fashionable
Tonight I was catching up on my reading of the entries on my cousin's blog (OK, so he's my mom's cousin), and I learned that he was dooced way back in early 2001 for blogging about his employer. In fact, according to this list, he may have been the first, dooced even before Dooce herself. (Does his firing lend my family some iota of cool? I hope so because over here on the mainland we kind of need it.)
Details are here (scroll down to February 22), and the entries through March are worth reading, too, if you're interested in newspaper management and politics or, for that matter, if you've ever worked at a newspaper (for the record, Mr. Trillwing and I both have--it's where we met). Fascinating and sad stuff on Ian's blog.
Also, I had no idea he's married to a feminist criminologist.
While you're over at iLind.net, you should also check out the very cool photos of Hawaii in decades past, particularly, if you're into the history of surfing, those of Duke Kahanamoku's funeral on the beach at Oahu in 1968.
Details are here (scroll down to February 22), and the entries through March are worth reading, too, if you're interested in newspaper management and politics or, for that matter, if you've ever worked at a newspaper (for the record, Mr. Trillwing and I both have--it's where we met). Fascinating and sad stuff on Ian's blog.
Also, I had no idea he's married to a feminist criminologist.
While you're over at iLind.net, you should also check out the very cool photos of Hawaii in decades past, particularly, if you're into the history of surfing, those of Duke Kahanamoku's funeral on the beach at Oahu in 1968.
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