Lessons Learned

Within this last week of the semester, I have been doing a lot of learning. All of this learning has increased the amount of stress and reduced the amount of time for trivial things.

As it turns out, some were not that trivial. In the spirit of sharing knowledge for the good of humanity, Febreeze is not a perfect substitute for washing clothes especially if the clothes are still on one's body as it induces itching and wet spots that take a while to dry.

Scary Beauty

Chief Hudd, our campus safety hero, sends email reports of the crime on campus. These are quite helpful in heightening my senses and giving words to my wild imagination when I am walking to my car in the dark. The dark has always frightened me; I can remember retrieving frozen ravioli from the freezer in the basement. I would carefully and slowly tip toe, quietly to the freezer and grab the ravioli. Slam the freezer lid and make a run for it, sprinting up the stairs to safety.

This evening I was walking to my car when I heard rustling. I saw a flash of white about 20 feet from me. Are these silly college kids streaking again? Or, is there a lightening fast predator waiting to do things to me that Chief Hudd will have to report to the entire campus? I gripped my keys tight, ready to use them as a weapon if need be. (That is actually not true. You know how when you are super scared and you grab whoever is closest? Well my keys were closest.) I considered my options: A.) running back to the office that may be locked, B.) running to my car up hill, and C.) acting normally. Due to poor choice of shoes and two bags full of work, I chose C. (Maybe guys invented heels so that they could catch us, ladies.)

I kept walking. Then, I saw them. I saw their white tails flash and heard their rustling as they moved. I was within feet of such beautiful creatures. It was breath-taking. The male's antlers acted as an enchanting wand, creating a majestic moment.

Happy Birthday Yajeev!

Today is a very special day in the blogosphere. It is the renowned Yajeev's birthday! He turns 29 today and regains moral superiority (based on his first criteria) over his wife (me) who is only 28. (He claims moral superiority is awarded to the individual in the comparison group with the most years on earth, and then in the case of ties, by total body girth.)

In order to celebrate this momentous day, his blogs have been compiled into a lovely keepsake edition entitled Land of Yajeev: The Early Years. This keepsake edition chronicles Yajeev's journey for the past two years. The paper version of the electronic bliss Yajeev dreams up is extremely useful for those of you who may suffer from Yajeev withdrawal when the pilot prohibits the use of all electronic devices or when you find yourself without your laptop in a restroom. (In the latter case, I recommend the entries found on pages 13, 18, and 59.)






You can purchase your very own copy of Land of Yajeev: The Early Years at http://www.lulu.com/content/4905071.

Enjoy all Yajeev lovers!

Happy birthday, Yajeev!

My Pet Monkey

It has been awhile since blogging. It turns out that grad school is a little more time consuming than summer vacation.

I have had the privilege to work on a writing study, and I have been grading at least a hundred writing samples. One particularly awesome essay extolled the virtues of getting a pet monkey.

"I had a monkey and I loved him because he scratches my butt and it feels good."

The next time you are trying to decide which pet to bring home, remember this second grader's advice. Everyone needs a pet monkey.

It's DiGiornos!

My lovely husband is not that good in the kitchen. From the Valentine's dinner that was too spicy hot to eat and burnt cookies to the rubber glove pan fire of 2007, my husband has a way with destroying food, pans, and kitchen utensils. Tonight on my way home from a late class, I called him suggesting we go out to celebrate my first day of work/school. The husband stated that he had a lot of work to do, but he would put a pizza in the oven, providing for his starving wife.

We went over the instructions together. Yes, I normally put it on foil on a cookie sheet. No, I don't wait for the oven to preheat. No, 6-8 minutes doesn't seem like the right amount of time. Oh... 6-8 inches from the bottom, yes, that sounds better. 19-21 minutes to bake is probably accurate. By the end of this conversation I was sure I would have dinner waiting for me when I got home.

Well, I did have dinner. Unfortunately, I left out an early detail in the process, how to remove the pizza from the box. He forgot to remove the cardboard piece from under the pizza, so every slice was cooked onto the cardboard. After scraping, prying, and sawing, we finally had dinner ready to consume. It wasn't delivery.

Chinchillas v. Alicia

Alicia Sacramone had a rough night in the gymnastic team finals. She fell off the beam and stumbled through her floor routine. At the end of the evening, she was being interviewed. Her beautiful brown eyes filling with tears as she explained how she cost America the gold. The reporter was relentless asking more questions than a trampled gymnast should ever have to answer.

At the end, the satisfied reporter sent it back to the anchor woman in the studio. She said that Alicia's parents had a really tough job tonight, trying to reassure their daughter of her inherent worth. Then she said this is probably when her parents wish they were raising chinchillas.



I am sure many chinchilla owners can be overheard saying, "Thank goodness I don't have an Olympic gymnast daughter. I have my chinchilla."

Likewise, I am sure Alicia's parents can be overheard whispering, "If we would have only given birth to chinchillas..."

Thank you anchor lady for such insight.

Peace to the World

I have heard people say not to marry someone thinking they are going to change because they won't. I thought they were just talking about BIG things, but as it turns out, they were also referring to the spouses' wardrobes. When the husband and I were dating, we would sometimes go running together. One day he showed up at my dorm wearing pink and brown plaid shorts with an elastic waistband. It was hard to focus on the jog when all I kept thinking about was the shorts.

We got married, and I semi-secretly gave away his prized shorts believing that I had indeed changed him. He stopped wearing the shorts, and he even stopped donning socks with scandals. Then he found it, a trophy shirt that perhaps rivals the shorts. I had to lay the ground rules. You may only wear this inside the apartment when we have absolutely no guests. Yes, other family members count as guests. This shirt says, "Peace," which I approve of, but the word is spelled out in rainbow letters that look like they came straight from the seventies. The only consolation is that he can't simultaneously wear both the peace shirt and the plaid shorts.

Yesterday, I was antsy to take Watson for a walk, and the husband wanted to come along. The only problem was...his attire. The peace shirt. I love his company, so I made an exception. As we were walking down the street, I was waiting for someone to take our picture for a fashion don't spot. At least my eyes would be covered by a thick black line of secrecy. Then an older lady walking in the opposite direction passed us. She started, "I like..." I was thinking the ending of this statement was going to be, "I like your dog." This is the most uttered statement when we go for a walk, but she surprised us both when she finished it by looking at the husband and uttering, "your shirt." I guess I will have to give peace a chance.

Olympic Proposal For Equality

The Olympic Spirit has swept through my household. The rafters no longer look like indispensable structural centerpieces; they begin to resemble the parallel bars that will enable my husband and I to begin our gymnastics careers. The love seat that once held movie-watchers now appears to be a vault daring us to sprint, catapult, twist, turn, and stick the landing. I, like most, have dreamed about being an Olympian since I can remember. I recall the thought that if my parents only built an ice skating rink in our back yard, I would without doubt be the best figure skater ever seen.

As I grew older, I began to fall in love with other sports. Most events have certain body types that are better suited for these contests. The inequality of this has struck me as un-American, so I believe that I have a solution that has already been instituted in part within several progressive sports. In wrestling and boxing, participants weigh-in and are only asked to compete against those who share their physical characteristics. What if in volleyball participants measure-in? Those who are short then can play against other short people, and perhaps, they could have a net that is proportional to their height. This could be instituted in basketball, volleyball, and the high jump. Think of all the short people who could finally become what they were meant to be.

Internet, Cell Phones, and Their Untimely Deaths

I have never been a huge fan of technology. In fact, when I was in eighth grade, I declared that I would never need to use a computer. I would like to amend that statement to, "I am lost without my computer." (Unfortunately, I mean that figuratively and literally.) Not only do I need a computer, but I also need it connected to the internet. Since moving into our new apartment, these past 38 hours have been the longest consecutive hours our internet has worked. I have talked to at least 7 different operators, 6 different cable guys, and 1 DSL provider. I really don't think I have ever been closer to yelling at complete strangers.

Recently when the husband was off cavorting with other yeast biochemists in Toronto, the internet was not working, so I needed to call him for our daily updates. He kept saying he couldn't hear me, but I could hear him. It had to be his phone; mine was practically new! Frustrated by not being able to communicate with him, I called the internet company again, hoping to coerce them into coming earlier. The cable operator said that he couldn't hear me. I admit that sometimes I will cry over insignificant moments, but this was a crisis that warranted tears.

Nothing seemed to have happened to this phone. Sure I have dropped other phones into toilets, onto cement, and occasionally into my labrador's mouth. (That is the story he tells at least.) This one was different. It just died. One splitter, several wires, one modem, and one new pink phone later, I am now connected again. I may not be a fan, but I am an addict.

Wise Counsel for Adventurers...Mostly Me

Today my adventurous spirit hit an all-time high quickly followed by an all-time low. Watson, my black lab, and I set off for our first hike out of our new book, 50 Hikes in Connecticut. We were going to see Hublein Tower, Reservoir 6, and the barbecue pit that once cooked General Eisenhower's dinner. Impressive. We actually did accomplish all of that (the aforementioned high); it was the return trip that seemed a little more challenging (the low).

I learned a few lessons:
1. Even if you think you know where the trail should take you, continue to follow the trail markers. I thought a saw another trail that was going more the direction I wanted to head, but the results were quite muddy not to mention a little bloody. Watson and I ended up tangled in a mess of sharp bushes and marshy water when he looked at me with an I-told-you-so glare.

2. When you see a trail marker you are supposed to follow and the next one doesn't match, turn immediately around. I continued on just thinking the trail-blazer must have gotten lazy when he/she forgot to put the two red dots with the blue line on the next couple trees. We pressed on (in error).

3. Bring as much water as you can possibly carry. You would think I would have learned this from my parents when we went on a 26-mile hike and ran out of water about half way, but alas, I did not. I brought two big water bottles for Watson and me. He "accidentally" knocked his bowl over and proceeded to lay down in his mess. Our Adam's ale did not last much longer in the heat.

4. When you end up at another state park, call for help. I actually did this one. Poor Watson was no longer bounding in front; rather, it was almost as if I was pulling him onward through hot molasses. That is when I decided to humble myself and admit to my husband that the direction goddess was indeed fallible.

Fortunately, the husband located us. We crawled toward the car hoping it was not a mirage, whispering agua, agua. I hope I learned my lesson. Watson and I were sitting on the couch resting and recuperating when I started reading about the Ragged Mountain Trail. I can just see my next post; "1. If the word ragged is in the title of the trail, normal unragged people should not attempt to traverse."

Jonathan Alter's Tips to Obama Regarding Education

Alter's article proposed that the source of America's educational downfall is the lack of accountability within the teachers. He claims, "Give poor kids from broken homes the best teachers, and most learn. Period." Alter advises Obama to pay teachers according to their results and release them if they can't produce.

The teachers need to be accountable, but is measuring the students' performance on state tests the best way to monitor their teaching skills? Is this the best way to improve education? This measurement system seems to deter teachers from taking on a challenging class or allowing gifted students the opportunity to be in the same classroom.

As many educational theorists point out, people have different learning styles and different strengths. Teachers are no different. Part of the problem within education is the lack of matching teachers with appropriate work environments. Some incredible teachers would fail miserably if placed into a different environment. Simply taking the best teachers out of their schools and moving them into failing schools may not be an effective solution. The structure of the school makes a difference in a teacher's ability to teach. The administration should provide an environment that sustains the teacher's efforts with appropriate discipline support and encouraging professional development.

There is not a multitude of well-educated, talented individuals who want to be teachers, especially in "at risk" schools. The threat of being released may further prevent good teachers risking their careers in such a school. If the accountability was based on state scores as suggested, the content within the classroom would be directly tied to the test. This is already the case in most public schools since the school itself is already tied the the test performance. Is that what education should be? There is value in teaching a body of knowledge, but with such pressure, exam preparation takes up much of the time that could be devoted to experiments, plays, and projects. The great teachers know that these items are necessary in developing the interest, thinking skills, and the real world abilities in their students. The increase of content regulations discourages the most creative teachers from staying in the profession.

Teachers should be accountable, and state tests provide hard data. Unfortunately the data is incapable of telling the whole story.

To Blog or Not

The pressure is off.

It is not a competition.

Sure my husband is the famed, much acclaimed blogger, yajeev.

And my sister is constantly enlightening everyone with her insights.

But...it is not a competition.