Announcing History

Friday is our first and only teacher day before we're at school with the students. It's hard to believe the new school year is almost here, but I'm starting to anticipate it with a good deal of excitement. My idealism has not yet been beaten out of me. I still wonder what fresh, bright, eager faces will soon occupy my classroom, hanging on my every word of wit and wisdom as I discourse on the mysteries and wonders of history. Ok, maybe not quite. But I'm still looking forward to connecting with some new students.

Today I went over to work on setting up my classroom. Had some sweaty but good work in getting stuff moved around. Still have lots of materials I hope will be moved out of my room by the teacher now teaching the courses that were taught by the teacher in my room last year. I want to move U.S. History books onto shelves that are now occupied by Sociology books! And I hope I will be able to get an overhead projector screen, not to mention a projector in my room. Last year there were none in it, and although they have been requested, I will not rest easy until they actually show up in my room. I imagine I'll be left to mount the screen, so I'll have to bring in my hammer and nails, and hope the holes I pound in the walls don't find the wrong spots and leave irreparable damage for years to come. But such are the dangers that come with working in a school district that expects its teachers to be everything, including handyman.

Now onto the most exciting part of this post. Last week I went to the Baseball Hall of Fame! It was a great way to continue our vaction, after a splendid time at the Demmes. All kinds of cool stuff was there. Being the history geek I am, I spent about twice as much time in the museum as my parents. The Red Sox World Series display was the best part. It even had The Sock. As in Schillsbloodysock. Wow.

I also became a radio announcer. Yup, that's right. We went to a hands-on radio workshop where a museum lady told us how games used to be announced over the radio, often not live, but compacted together in an hour and a half or so. Then she told us we were going to recreate a radio broadcast as a group. Then she looked at Dad, a brother who will go unnamed, and myself, and was like "Ok, I'm going to start off by picking some people instead of asking for volunteers. Are you three together? I need two of you to be our announcers." Dad insisted I do it with this brother, even though I said Dad should. So my bro and I trotted down to the front of the room where we sat at a little table with a microphone, and were handed our scripts. I was the play-by play announcer, with bro as the color commentator. The snippet we were given to do was from Mark McGuire's then record-breaking home run number 62, off of Steve Trachsel. While we went over our lines, the lady got other audience members to work on all kinds of sound effects, including bat cracking, chimes, vendors, crowd noise, public address announcer, etc. Then we practiced a little. Then we taped the segment, which was about three minutes in length.

I did my best to stay even mannered for most of the broadcast, like Joe and Jerry do when announcing Sox games, not getting very animated unless there's a home run or some great play. But when Big Mac hit the line drive blast towards the left field wall, I had to practically scream to be heard above the noise of the studio crowd. It was a lot of fun. After we finished and listened to the broadcast together, the lady gave us the tape to keep. So now I can add a baseball broadcast to my broadcasting archives, which previously majored in basketball in the Larry Bird era...

Reveling in Famedom

Just thought I'd let you all know I'm famous now. How so? I'm on WorldCat! Yup, it's true. Look me up if you don't believe me. For those of you who don't know what WorldCat is, it's a huge database used by libraries all over the world. And when I say huge, I mean over a billion entries. Many of these entries do not show up on places like google. It's a subscription-only database, so you probably have to be a college student or have an in with a fairly good library in order to access it. It's a really awesome tool, as it allows researchers to locate materials from libraries all over the world by looking in one central location. For example, you can type in "Sublimity of Faith," and find that Frank Murray's book is located in 21 libraries worldwide, in places as diverse as Duke University, Saint Louis University, Gordon-Conwell Seminary, and Portland Public Library. I have used WorldCat many times in my days as college and grad student for research of various kinds. So imagine my nerdy pleasure in finding out my work is now on it!

Yes, I don't know what I'll do with my new found fame. I mean, how many people can say they have one of the billion listings in WorldCat? I'm guessing only about 350 million people, given the fact that some lucky ones have multiple listings. You know when people who like to flatter you say you're one in a million? That's nice. But can they say you're one of THE 350 million?

Contented sigh. This calls for celebration of some sort. And an autograph signing, to be announced at a later date...

What I Will/Won't Miss From First Year Teaching

Well, the summer days are flying by. Here I am on vacation, already contemplating the new school year. I found out yesterday that I will be teaching FOUR sections of U.S. History, and just one of World History, instead of 3 and 2. I think this will be a good thing. I really enjoy teaching U.S., especially this level, which is the level below AP. It means the students usually care about their grades, which is a helpful start to being able to actually teach something. Sometimes, with the lower level classes, it seems more like glorified baby sitting, at taxpayers expense. To be sure, hire a baby sitter with an M.A, and it's somewhat likely your teenager will learn something once in awhile, even if they don't care to. Even so, it seems like a rather expensive social experiment.

The only potential drawbacks to this modified schedule are getting bored with doing the same thing four times a day. Less variety, that's for sure. Oh, and grading papers. World History is a lower level class, which means less homework I have to grade. In U.S., however, I generally like to torture their little minds with as much work as possible, until they're left bleating like lambs for mercy come May. By then they have put together a 10-15 page research paper. Of course, this means the average length is about 9 pages.

Anyway, as I start to look forward to the next year, and scheme about the work I will torture my students with (as well as think about clever things to do/say, jokes to play, etc.) I thought it appropriate to mention several things I will or will not miss from my first year.

Will Not Miss
1. Having classes in three separate rooms. Bouncing around all day from one place to another. Teaching World History in rooms A, B, then A, teaching U.S. History in rooms B and then A, and having my home room in room C! Though I got some exercise in the process, it was a pain to lug everything I need around to different rooms, including video equipment on days I needed it.

2. Cafe Duty. This stands for cafeteria, in case you were wondering. This job entailed walking around the cafeteria for about forty-five minutes each day, unless it was my turn to take students outside, in which case come freezing or heatstroke-inducing weather, students went outdoors after about twenty-five minutes. Inside, the job meant making sure students pick up the trash they throw around, or simply clean up after themselves. Also breaking up the occasional fights that occurred, which became rather dangerous the time when students started drawing knives, pistols, rifles, then machine guns. That was a fight to remember! Ok, just kidding. In reality, the girl fights are the worst. They're vicious. They're likely to end up with a fistful of the other girl's hair. Personally, I'll take a bloody nose any day over losing a fistful of hair. After all, I have enough blood to give, but too little hair to lose...

3. Not being able to set up the room as I wished. Because I had several classes in a veteran teacher's room, I wasn't able to arrange things as I wished. This meant whenever I used the overhead projector, it had to be pointed to the back of the room, where the screen was. So students had to turn around in their desks to see. Rather inconvenient. This year, if I can get an overhead and screen (which is a little iffy, but I'm keeping my fingers crossed), I will be able to set it up however I want. And I can arrange desks as I wish, decorate as I wish, and generally display the degree of power my egomaniacal self would like to.

4. Some particular students. Though I'm sure some of them didn't mean to, they tended to disrupt the class or complain about things in a way that was less than positive. I'm sure they'll be replaced by other worthy candidates this year. But now I am more prepared to deal with their tactics... Heh heh, bring it on boys and girls. I am ready.

What I'll Miss
1. Some particular students. This includes at least one student I was thinking about in the above category. Let's call him Joe Brown. Joe is very vocal, a football player, smart, but lazy. One of those types who watches the history channel all the time, and will be sure to correct you if you say something historically inaccurate. At the same time, he's careless, so won't read directions to an assignment. Then he'll complain loudly in front of the rest of the class about how picky I am in grading. "Yes, Joe, you better believe I'm picky. I do care if a 2 page assignment is only 1 page. I do care if you don't write in complete sentences. I do care if an assignment is not complete, and then late. I do care if any of the basic directions are not followed. Next time I suggest you READ the directions." (All of these types of things said, of course, in my soft, sweet, but firm voice...) Joe got it into his head during the year that I play favorites, because another student brought her work to me ahead of time to see if she had done it right, and I had mistakenly told her it looked good when it was lacking. So she got a chance to redo it, when he didn't get as much leniency after totally missing a key aspect of the assignment, due to simply not reading or listening to the directions. Despite my explanation, he apparently resented it the rest of the year. Then he complained on the end of the year evaluation form about how I grade based on effort. His advice to future students was for them to realize that if you're smart, it doesn't matter, because you get graded based on effort and not on how smart you are. So he hates me, right? I don't know. Later he told me he was going to make sure that his future son takes my U.S. history class. No matter where in the world he is, he's coming back to my school to take my class. Go figure. So I had a sort of love/hate relationship with Joe. I'll be glad to be rid of his complaining, yet at the same time miss his sporadic enthusiasm for my teaching. Maybe he simply wants his son to experience the unique kind of torture that he felt he had to endure...

Other students who worked really hard and showed improvement I will also miss, but details on them are better left for another post.

2. Getting a pass on some mistakes because of my rookie status. With the second year comes greater responsibility, I suppose. Now I'll have to fill out all of my discipline forms with no mistakes, and not be able to use the "I didn't know" excuse as much.

Going to Church and Godly Democrats

Yes, believe it or not, I do go to church. Usually religiously. So several weeks ago, when I was working down in VA with a high school history camp, I decided to take a group of students to church. One of them was a SC boy, a southern Baptist. Another girl, from OK, also was a Baptist. They wanted a Baptist church, so off to a Baptist church we went. Not being familiar with the Baptist churches in the area, I picked one that was within walking distance. It was the First Baptist church in the city. Assured of its solid standing, off we trotted.

We got there early. As we entered, it was apparent this was going to be a different experience for me. For all of us. As it happened, all five of the students and myself are white. All of the churchgoers already in the church for Sunday School were black. Yes, we had stumbled into an all black church. Well, being the liberally--and biblically--educated person I am, I wasn't about to let that stop me. The others seemed game, or at least too polite to back out at this point, so after looking at some of the pictures and things in the lobby for a bit, we walked in and sat down in a pew all together.

The service started at 11. It ended about 12:45. It was a cultural experience, to say the least. I didn't know but that some white people might show up eventually. They never did. At least I think everyone there was black. (As you know, sometimes it's hard to tell with some people, as they are of mixed racial background.) The service started off with a worship-type time. A black sister led the worship part, asking people for testimonies, etc. She was very energetic, very passionate about God, which was great. An all men's choir sang several selections. One of them was quite lively, complete with a saxophone solo.

Then came an uncomfortable spot. All of the visitors were asked to stand. Then out came a microphone. All of us were expected to introduce ourselves! Talk about testimony by fire! So the microphone went around to about fifteen different people, who each gave their name, why they were there, etc. I kept it simple, mumbling my name and how glad I was to be able to be there, or some such thing. Later there was a real meet and greet, press the flesh part of the service. We were greeted by probably a dozen or more different churchgoers, all very friendly and glad for us to be there.

The pastor, probably about 55, had lungs like you wouldn't believe. He preached in the fiery manner so stereotypical of black southern preachers. It was like hearing Dr. Martin Luther King or someone (he's about the only other black preacher I've heard.) Part of the message was also uncomfortable. It started out fine, talking about how everyone in their life has issues, drawing upon the passage where the woman with an issue of blood touched Jesus. Then it turned political. He talked about economic problems blacks face, and how Bush is spending all this money in Iraq while there are greater needs at home. Typical rant of someone anti-Bush. This was new for me, an overtly political stance coming straight from the pulpit. Good thing the IRS wasn't in attendance, they might have had reason to revoke the tax-free status of the church. Then it moved away from politics. The message was about the need to bring issues, whatever they are, to Jesus. He is the only one who will solve them.

After the sermon I was greeted by one eager woman who insisted on asking me if I enjoyed the service. I dodged the question at first by saying something about being glad to come. She returned to her original question, asking me again "but did you enjoy the service?" I told her I hated the message the pastor gave, and that I thought the entire church was on a slippery slope to hell. Just kidding. I sure didn't like the political rant, buy I did enjoy elements of it, so I said I did.

So there you have it folks. Did you know that some good, God fearing Christians are Democrats? Gulp. Yup, I guess so. You might charge me with blasphemy for making such a statement. But as far as I could tell, these people are passionate about God, are looking to Christ as the source of all that is needed for their lives, yet don't like the current president. An enigma, huh? Truth is stranger than fiction.

On Digging Ditches and Battling Mosquitoes

Since other blogs I've looked at seem to be on a literary kick, I thought I'd chime in and enlighten my readers on my most recently conquered volume. Alas, it pales in comparison to the classics discussed elsewhere. And it doesn't quite qualify as "literature." English majors wouldn't ever have to read it. But history majors might. It's David McCullough's The Path Between the Seas: The Creation of the Panama Canal, 1870-1914. McCullough is a great writer. Anyone who is reluctant to delve into the realm of reading historical monographs might want to start with him. (Stephen Ambrose is another palatable read.) The book, over 600 pages in length, gives about 300 pages more information about the creation of the Panama Canal than normal individuals would ever want. In its attention to detail, I guess it compares to Les Miserables or Hunchback. Yet hidden within the vastness are some fascinating gems well worth digging for.

One of these nuggets revolves around the battles the builders faced in dealing with yellow fever. Hundreds of men died from the disease in the early going. It was only after about 1900 that people first started thinking the mosquito-as-carrier theory might have something to it. Yellow fever is spread by a certain type of mosquito that thrives mainly in human populated areas. So a concerted effort was made to rid every dwelling of anything that had standing water of any sort, which is where the lovely females deposit their eggs. It used to be that legs of hospital beds were placed in pans of water to keep ants from moving up them. Suffice it to say, that only encouraged breeding of mosquitoes. Open containers with water were covered, or oil was poured on the top of them to prevent access to the water. This way mosquitoes were effectively killed off, as they had no place to put their eggs. With the death of the little buggers, yellow fever virtually disappeared.

Another impressive feat was the sheer volume of earth moved in digging the Canal. Over sixty great pyramids worth of dirt was excavated! The project, between the work the French and Americans did on it, cost in excess of 600 million dollars. To give some perspective on that, McCullough informs us this is five times the amount of money spent by the U.S. on all of its territorial acquisitions combined up to that date, including Lousiana Territory, Calfornia, Gadsden Purchase, Alaska, etc.

The engineering information on the building and operation of the locks is another interesting section. Bet you didn't know that five million bags of concrete and sand were shipped to the isthmus. Or that an estimated 40,000 dollars in waste was saved after it was mandated that workers shake out the bags after they empty them! If the largest locks were stood on their ends, they would dominate the NY skyline.

These are just snippets of the book. Overall, it is an informative and well-written account of the entire history of the canal's building. I would recommend it to anyone historically inclined.

History Program Blothpick

I'm back from working in VA, and am now experiencing some blothpick. What am I missing about this program? Not supervising a dozen college age RA's, that's for sure. Some of them were great, while others had a proclivity for ignoring instructions they didn't feel like following. This created a bit of tension and unpleasantness after I had to speak to the program director, who had to speak to certain uncooperative individuals. So I'm not looking with nostalgia upon having to move my Iron Fist against some college students. What is hard is being removed from some really cool high schoolers.

You see, in case you didn't know, I love high school students. Why else would I have chosen a career as a teacher? It's not that I have always loved teenagers. But somehow God is really good at qualifying you for what He calls you to do. In my case, the calling is teaching high school. Since He knew it wouldn't work well to have me among students for hours on end if I could only pretend to like teenagers, He has given me what might be considered an extraordinary amount of--certainly unnatural--love for those lost souls in the young adult category. Some are definitely harder to love than others. But I feel like I've been blessed with a measure of grace that has allowed me to see teenagers a little bit like God does.

Anyway, I digress. With this love in mind, it might make more sense why I feel free to describe
some of the following students as I do. Although there were 62 in our care, some of them stand out more than others. I will not use their names in the interest of confidentiality.

First there was J. J reminds me of Lindsay a little. (You can pick and choose which of the following characteristics they both have.) J has dirty blond hair, and is very friendly. She cracks me up with her intensity and flightiness, sometimes displaying both at the same time. She told me she was from PA, near Philly, but she couldn't tell me for sure in which direction from Philly she lived. I think that's hilarious. J thought she lived to the southwest of the city, but corrected herself to me later after consulting with an RA who is from Philly. J is actually from northwest of Philly. She is also brilliant, although in a flighty sort of way. She puts off doing her work to socialize, then drinks caffeine around midnight or so so she can get her work done without falling asleep. She just finished her sophomore year in high school, and agonizes over having scored "only a 4" on her AP Euro exam. She explained her elaborate note taking process to me, which includes highlighting in about six different colors according to type of info. She took AP Bio as a freshman. Next year she is taking five AP courses. She wants to be a pediatrician, and thinks she'll live in the Midwest because they get paid a little more out there. But she doesn't come off as greedy. She wants to donate her time as a doctor to needy children in other parts of the world, but thinks her parents won't be happy with the idea after putting her through eight years of college.

Ok, being a little less descriptive. There's also H. She is a huge Red Sox fan from MA. She is also going into her junior year. She was often around with a guyfriend she made quite quickly. Both of them hung out a lot with a couple of other guys who seemed quite content with not doing a lot of work. But I think H usually did her work anyway, despite their influence. Also a blond, she suggested to me at the end of the program that she should hang out with me sometime in the town where I teach, since we're so close geographically. "Yeah sure H, just give me a ring. I chill all the time with high schoolers." Fortunately she doesn't have my cell number, so even if I had said this there's little chance of it happening...

Then there's Milwaukee, or Beast as some came to affectionately call him. A short, spectacled boy who looks like he's in 8th grade, he won the hearts of about half the ladies in the program, including the RA's. He's actually going to be a senior. The last night he blew everyone away with his beautiful tenor voice in a rendition of Mine Eyes Have Seen the Glory, which he sang with three other guys. (So DJ, there's hope for you. All you have to do is work on that tenor voice.)

Then there is T-Bone. Dark hair, medium height, not obese, but shows signs of retaining a little baby fat. A Yankees fan from NJ, his accent and pleasant demeanor was enough to grant him a temporary reprieve for his iniquity regarding choice of team. One night he and a couple of other students cooked their own dinner, then allowed us RA's to have the leftovers. They made meatsauce from scratch! Quite impressive. His culinary ability and subsequent generosity also helped to mitigate tensions that might otherwise arisen over baseball issues.

D is from upstate NY, in the Albany area. Has brown hair, which she usually wore in two braids. Wore a hat with the college name on it which she's giving to her boyfriend at home, but was "breaking it in" first. D attempted to teach me to dance a series of steps to some sort of country music song. Given my two left feet, her attempts were only somewhat successful. But she seemed to appreciate my demonstration of dancing a hornpipe. (And many of the students loved it when I danced the Shipoopi for them.) D won my approval for liking Les Mis music, and allowing me to listen to some of it on her ipod during a van trip.

G is from Richmond, but she's entering her fourth and senior year at a boarding school in NJ. Intelligent and pleasant, her vocabulary far surpasses what I knew at her age, if not now! Uses words like "docent" and "evince" in her writing. Despite what I'm sure is a great education she's getting, I feel sorry for her. Can't imagine living away from parents during those formative years, not getting to develop a relationship with them in the same way as being at home...

Ox is from SC, but goes to an all boys boarding school in TN. An excellent story teller, he is always ready to spin some sort of tale about his experiences, and make it sound funny. Uses his hands and sometimes his whole body to talk. Has some sort of speech impediment I think, which keeps him from pronouncing his r's. Doesn't quite sound like a Bostonian, however. Rather than the "paahk" Bostonians say instead of "park," Ox pronounces it more like "pawk." His enthusiasm and utter lack of self-conciousness over how he sounds endears him to me, though I can't help but smiling inwardly on occasion as he talks.

I could go on for awhile, but you get the idea. As head RA--and Iron Fist--I was able to have quality interaction with a lot of students. I'll miss them.

Fuzzy Math

I recently discovered further evidence for the decline of our civilization. Specifically, the prices on a menu at McDonald's. What exactly on a menu shows how far we've descended, you might ask? It has nothing to do with the fat content of the items, though some may say that alone demonstrates the sad shape of our society. No, it was the prices for two items. 4 piece chicken nuggets, $1. 6 piece chicken nuggets, $2.29. How absurd is that?

What kind of customer would ever go for the six piece? How about one who can't do some simple math? You don't even have to know how many times 6 goes into 2.29 to figure out that it's a bad deal. Now, given that prices are governed by supply and demand, I'm afraid the six piece is going for 2.29 because enough people are stupid enough to buy it. Why lower the price if you have enough people whose math is limited to counting on fingers? I shudder in dismay at the thought of thousands of people across the country, right now, dipping into their wallets for the six piece "deal," maybe even thinking to themselves about how clever they are to bypass a four piece in order to get a six piece at a much better rate. Poor souls.

Battlefields and Museums

This last week I was able to go on a couple of field trips. Wednesday we went to some of the sites of the 7 Days' Battle, including Botswain's Swamp and Malvern Hill. Here we were able to see where Lee ordered his troops into sheets of fire and huge destruction. Botswain's Swamp involved sending troops through woods to face three separate lines of Union troops, two of which were up a hill. The fire the Confeds faced was continuous, and absolutely murderous. Not pretty if you were a Confederate. 1800 casualties in a short time. Malvern Hill took place days later, and involved Lee sending troops through a relatively narrow front against massed Union artillery and troops on top of a gently sloped hill. Looking back on it now, it seems to have been a "warm-up" for what happened at Gettysburg. End result of the 7 Days? 20,000 Confederate casualties, 16,000 Union casualties.

Yesterday I drove a van for the group to Pamplin Park, a museum near Petersburg dedicated to the Civil War soldier. All kinds of cool stuff there. Outside there were surviving earthworks from when the long siege took place. Inside the two museums was info on how Petersburg fell, and how common soldiers typically lived in their armies, whether Union or Confederate.

I learned some details about army life that are sure to thrill my students. Lice was a huge issue for the men. To get them out of their clothing, sometimes they'd walk up to the campfire and shake out their clothes really hard. If the lice was big enough, it would make a popping noise as it exploded in the fire, just like the sound of popcorn. Men also spent much of their time in camp playing cards, dice, and gambling in other ways as well. Some of them would get so addicted to gambling they were known to bet on a race between two lice. At other times they enjoyed playing a newly-invented game: baseball.

Other items of interest at Pamplin park: In the museum, two bullets found fused together, which had happened instantaneously after they had hit each other in midair! A short video on amputation, which replicated the process in somewhat gory detail. In a slave quarter on the plantation there, a video showing the viewpoints of six different types of people in the 1850s towards slavery. These included a northern abolitionist preacher, a southern plantation lady, a southern female slave, a free black in PA, a non-slaveholding southern farmer, and a free soiler from Illinois. Alas, the video was not available for purchase in the bookstore, or else my students would have been sure to experience these somewhat corny yet historical renditions of various viewpoints. Despite the absence of the video, I was still able to raid the gift shop for some items that I hope will help in learning about the Civil War this fall.

Ridiculous Argument

To make up for my lengthy posts...
A summary of a recent argument heard between two students in the program here.
Lunchpail: You're rich.
Santa: No I'm not, my Dad makes less than two hundred thousand a year.
Lunchpail: You're rich. I can't stand people who are rich but say they're not.
Santa: I'm not rich! Not for the area I come from (near D.C.).
Lunchpail: You're rich.
Santa: No I'm not!
Lunchpail: Yes you are. Just admit it and I'll drop it.
Santa: I won't admit it. We're not making billions of dollars or anything.
Etc.
Can it get any more absurd than this?