If they haven't got it by now, there's really not much I can do.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Familiarity Breeds Contempt
Is it just me?
I grew up in an era where service personnel wouldn't think of addressing a customer by his first name. The correct form of address to use with a customer is the title "Sir" or "Ma'am", unless I'm a regular and invite the clerk to address me by my first name. But that perogative belongs to me, and until the invitation is given, it's presumptuous to be so familiar.
So today when I walk into It's A Grind and order my regular ice-blended mocha, no whip, I hesitated when the kid behind the counter asks me for my name. I looked around the virtually vacant store, and gave it to him, laughing that he wouldn't be likely to forget what I look like in the next three minutes. I was, at that moment, one of three customers in the store.
He's a nice kid, and bright. He recognized my discomfort, and laughed along with me. I don't blame him: he is only asking my my name because someone trained him to ask, but it just doesn't play well with people in my generation. This kid is not on a first name basis with me: he doesn't need to know my name in order to throw some milk, ice and cocoa powder in a blender and then bring it to me.
Same interaction when I use my debit card at the supermarket. The clerk looks at the readout, then thanks me, using my first name. I bristle. Once the clerk addressed me as "Mr. Coulter," and I was so pleasantly surprised, I smiled, even though he had no need to know my name either. At least after gaining the knowledge, he addressed me properly. I use cash more and more, for this very reason. I'm not in anyone's database, and the clerk just thanks me and hands me my purchases. Anonymous, as the Good Lord intended.
The whole idea of gradations of social status is being blurred. And when I am addressed by my first name by service providers, I lose status in the social interaction. That's why the policeman who pulls you over invariably addresses you by your first name once you hand him your license: he calls you by your first name, but all you can do is look at his name tag, and reply with "Officer Snodgrass". That is how these power relationships are played, and in my opinion, they're valid distinctions. When I'm addressed by my first name by people I don't know, that distinction is blurred, and I lose power in that interaction with that company. Using my title forces the company to treat me with respect. The vanishing of that social barrier may lead to the company taking other license in our interaction that may work to my disadvantage.
Besides, I'm forty-seven years old. The twenty-something behind the counter shouldn't be taking such liberties.
Do you you really want to be treated casually by companies that are supposed to be there to meet your needs? Your auto insurance agent? Your car salesman? Your plumber? Your car detailer? Go back through that list again, and play it both ways in your mind.
You may chalk this little rant up to someone who grew up in a blue collar household who is desperately trying to put on the airs of the middle-class by demanding the social courtesies, and you have that right. Or that I enjoy the superiority in my job with my students, and so now I want to experience it out in public. But I see it as a general loss of civility in our culture, so if you are over thirty, you can have an opinion based on actual experience.
In resturants, it has been de riguer or twenty years for the server to introduce himself to the table party. I understand this cultural practice originated here in California in the Eighties, but I haven't traveled enough to confirm this. The idea is credible, though.
Let me tell you: I don't care what the hell your name is. Your name is not intregal to my experience. Just bring me my food and keep my coffee cup topped off, and we'll get along just fine, anonymously. I'm not here because I need to initiate new friendships. I'm here to be served. And I don't believe for a second that you care what my name is either, or remember it for 30 seconds after our interaction. I don't expect you to, and I find with whole thing just a bit creepy.
In the Information Age, the first casualty has been our privacy.
And dont' get me started on employees chewing gum and eating food in sight of the customers!
I grew up in an era where service personnel wouldn't think of addressing a customer by his first name. The correct form of address to use with a customer is the title "Sir" or "Ma'am", unless I'm a regular and invite the clerk to address me by my first name. But that perogative belongs to me, and until the invitation is given, it's presumptuous to be so familiar.
So today when I walk into It's A Grind and order my regular ice-blended mocha, no whip, I hesitated when the kid behind the counter asks me for my name. I looked around the virtually vacant store, and gave it to him, laughing that he wouldn't be likely to forget what I look like in the next three minutes. I was, at that moment, one of three customers in the store.
He's a nice kid, and bright. He recognized my discomfort, and laughed along with me. I don't blame him: he is only asking my my name because someone trained him to ask, but it just doesn't play well with people in my generation. This kid is not on a first name basis with me: he doesn't need to know my name in order to throw some milk, ice and cocoa powder in a blender and then bring it to me.
Same interaction when I use my debit card at the supermarket. The clerk looks at the readout, then thanks me, using my first name. I bristle. Once the clerk addressed me as "Mr. Coulter," and I was so pleasantly surprised, I smiled, even though he had no need to know my name either. At least after gaining the knowledge, he addressed me properly. I use cash more and more, for this very reason. I'm not in anyone's database, and the clerk just thanks me and hands me my purchases. Anonymous, as the Good Lord intended.
The whole idea of gradations of social status is being blurred. And when I am addressed by my first name by service providers, I lose status in the social interaction. That's why the policeman who pulls you over invariably addresses you by your first name once you hand him your license: he calls you by your first name, but all you can do is look at his name tag, and reply with "Officer Snodgrass". That is how these power relationships are played, and in my opinion, they're valid distinctions. When I'm addressed by my first name by people I don't know, that distinction is blurred, and I lose power in that interaction with that company. Using my title forces the company to treat me with respect. The vanishing of that social barrier may lead to the company taking other license in our interaction that may work to my disadvantage.
Besides, I'm forty-seven years old. The twenty-something behind the counter shouldn't be taking such liberties.
Do you you really want to be treated casually by companies that are supposed to be there to meet your needs? Your auto insurance agent? Your car salesman? Your plumber? Your car detailer? Go back through that list again, and play it both ways in your mind.
You may chalk this little rant up to someone who grew up in a blue collar household who is desperately trying to put on the airs of the middle-class by demanding the social courtesies, and you have that right. Or that I enjoy the superiority in my job with my students, and so now I want to experience it out in public. But I see it as a general loss of civility in our culture, so if you are over thirty, you can have an opinion based on actual experience.
In resturants, it has been de riguer or twenty years for the server to introduce himself to the table party. I understand this cultural practice originated here in California in the Eighties, but I haven't traveled enough to confirm this. The idea is credible, though.
Let me tell you: I don't care what the hell your name is. Your name is not intregal to my experience. Just bring me my food and keep my coffee cup topped off, and we'll get along just fine, anonymously. I'm not here because I need to initiate new friendships. I'm here to be served. And I don't believe for a second that you care what my name is either, or remember it for 30 seconds after our interaction. I don't expect you to, and I find with whole thing just a bit creepy.
In the Information Age, the first casualty has been our privacy.
And dont' get me started on employees chewing gum and eating food in sight of the customers!
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
It's Started
This is the first week of the 4th quarter, and Brother, you can tell.
Students are slow to respond to instruction, easliy distracted, and talkative. I mean, even more than usual.
As for myself, for some reason I'm energized instead of enervated, so it doesn't bother me that much. School days remaining = 45. That may seems a low number at first read, but it translates into another eight weeks and change, or 2 months and 5 days. Counting all days until the last day of school: 65 days. Now it don't seem just around the corner anymore, do it, Willis?
That's what I'm saying. This is the best of times, this is the worst of times.
I think I'll go in early in the morning and do some planning.
Students are slow to respond to instruction, easliy distracted, and talkative. I mean, even more than usual.
As for myself, for some reason I'm energized instead of enervated, so it doesn't bother me that much. School days remaining = 45. That may seems a low number at first read, but it translates into another eight weeks and change, or 2 months and 5 days. Counting all days until the last day of school: 65 days. Now it don't seem just around the corner anymore, do it, Willis?
That's what I'm saying. This is the best of times, this is the worst of times.
I think I'll go in early in the morning and do some planning.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Quote of the Week
Overheard today somewhere on campus:
Teacher: What is the name of the Mexican president overthrown during the Mexican Revolution in the 1930s?
Student #1: Ceasar Chavez!
Student #2: That's Cuba.
Student #1: At least I got the state right.
Teacher: What is the name of the Mexican president overthrown during the Mexican Revolution in the 1930s?
Student #1: Ceasar Chavez!
Student #2: That's Cuba.
Student #1: At least I got the state right.
Monday, March 24, 2008
Exactly
from Gene Veith's blog
This is what my students come in with: subjective feelings, but no developed aesthetic. Part of that is because they're young, and part is that they haven't been trained to think objectively. That makes it difficult to teach literary concepts, because their first impulse is to filter everything through their subjective tastes. A discussion of humor is met with statements expressing whether or not they think something is funny; they respond to suspense with complaints of boredom conditioned from countless movie car crashes and 22-minute sitcom conflict resolutions; they miss the point time and time again, because they're blind to technique, and sensitive only to (emotionally filtered) effect. I have to deconstruct their non-aesthetic in order to establish a new foundation built in objective universals. I try to give them the "knowledge of the art form" so that "careful attention and reflection" can happen.
It's a mental slugfest. But I usually win, unless the student is so close-minded that new ideas cannot penetrate his protective cocoon of emotional warmth. I've had students literally put their fingers in their ears rather than hear an idea that challenged some cherished, comfortable view of life. Imagine.
Beauty exits not soley in the eye of the beholder: it's a Platonic form. The standard is outside ourselves, and getting teens to venture outside their selves is the challenge.
...[I]t is important to realize that there is a huge difference between saying "that is good" and "I like that." The former is an objective statement. The latter is a subjective response. Most confusions about aesthetic matters come from mixing up the two kinds of judgments. Indeed, ignoring the first one, considering the objective merits, and thinking that LIKING something is that same as recognizing its beauty. We can LIKE all kinds of things— things that make us feel gooey inside, nostalgic associations, easy jolts of hedonism, things we agree with, appeals to our sinful nature (which is why Hollywood goes the way it does)— whereas discerning beauty requires knowledge of the art form and careful attention and reflection. Growing in taste involves learning to subjectively "like" what is objectively 'good. (Emphasis added)
This is what my students come in with: subjective feelings, but no developed aesthetic. Part of that is because they're young, and part is that they haven't been trained to think objectively. That makes it difficult to teach literary concepts, because their first impulse is to filter everything through their subjective tastes. A discussion of humor is met with statements expressing whether or not they think something is funny; they respond to suspense with complaints of boredom conditioned from countless movie car crashes and 22-minute sitcom conflict resolutions; they miss the point time and time again, because they're blind to technique, and sensitive only to (emotionally filtered) effect. I have to deconstruct their non-aesthetic in order to establish a new foundation built in objective universals. I try to give them the "knowledge of the art form" so that "careful attention and reflection" can happen.
It's a mental slugfest. But I usually win, unless the student is so close-minded that new ideas cannot penetrate his protective cocoon of emotional warmth. I've had students literally put their fingers in their ears rather than hear an idea that challenged some cherished, comfortable view of life. Imagine.
Beauty exits not soley in the eye of the beholder: it's a Platonic form. The standard is outside ourselves, and getting teens to venture outside their selves is the challenge.
Friday, February 08, 2008
Jekyll and Hyde
The student fought me at every turn. Off-task. No homeowrk turned in. Little classwork done. Had to listen to me tell him every day to pull his pants up to cover his butt, to turn around and face the front of the room, to stop talking to other students: basically, I was on his back the entire term, trying to get something worthwhile out of him.
And he didn't like it. "Why are you always picking on me?" he asked. He was even belligerent at times; earned a couple of detentions. I may have even taken him outside for a "counseling with student" in the hallway, when the whole class knows he's being chewed out by the teacher for something.
He barely passed, and only because I cared more than he. That 62% was hard-fought.
This year, he calls my name across the quad whenever he sees me, and waves & smiles. He stops off in my room to tell me news about his life: driver's license, car, whatever.
Those are the rules of the game.
And he didn't like it. "Why are you always picking on me?" he asked. He was even belligerent at times; earned a couple of detentions. I may have even taken him outside for a "counseling with student" in the hallway, when the whole class knows he's being chewed out by the teacher for something.
He barely passed, and only because I cared more than he. That 62% was hard-fought.
This year, he calls my name across the quad whenever he sees me, and waves & smiles. He stops off in my room to tell me news about his life: driver's license, car, whatever.
Those are the rules of the game.
Friday, February 01, 2008
How Not to Spend $140
My frigid morning commute is not due to faulty vacuum switches, but to a clogged heater core. I had the whole cooling system flushed out this last weekend, and now that some of the grit and hard pieces are gone, the core is clogged slightly less: I can almost feel heat coming from the vents when the car is fully warmed-up, which happens about halfway to school. Not enough to make the slightest difference in my comfort, though the windshield does defrost slightly more quickly.
It's time to think about dumping this car.
It's time to think about dumping this car.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
All We Need is Janet Leigh
It's like a Hitchcock movie. Try to walk across campus in the middle of the school day, and they're there: the birds.
Seagulls. Even though we're ten miles from the ocean, every day hundreds of seagulls descend on the campus at a pre-determined time, ready to scavenge through hundreds upon hundreds of food wrappers, looking for the half-eaten pizza crusts, untouched fruit, and scattered french fries that are to be found in abundance; the flotsam and jetsam left in the wake of uncaring, under-socialized, irresponsible, self-centered students. I've never seen a seagull dig into one of the many, many trash cans placed about every twenty paces around the campus; they don't need to. They can remain fat and happy on what has been thrown away (dropped is a better word) in enough abundance that even flying ten miles one way to get here every day is well worth the smorgasbord that awaits them. There is enough half-eaten, untouched and undiscarded food lying around campus to force our custodial staff to have to come and clean up behind them twice a day to prevent the school from looking like Woodstock the morning after. If the custiodians were to skip just one day, there would certainly be a outcry from the students, who expect to walk through a pristine campus, but who feel no obligation to lift a finger to help create one.
Ironically, the very same students who throw their french fries at each other will shriek and run under the flapping cloud of seagulls over their heads, hoping not to be shat upon with yesterday's french fries. Poetic justice.
The recent edition of the school newspaper had an article noting the rearrangment of the custodial schedule in order to provide more cleaning of the restrooms, an action that was the result of student complaints about their condition. Most students consider this a grass-roots political victory: the populace applying pressure to their leaders to improve living conditions. If students would only throw away their own garbage out on the quad, the bathrooms may have had adequate attention all along, and the host of seagulls that the students have trained to fly in and crap on their heads every day wouldn't exist.
So what lesson have we learned? Be self-centered and blind, and refuse to make a connection between your actions and the results you have created. Be irresponsible, complain, and let the government wipe you.
And they'll be voting in a couple of years.
Seagulls. Even though we're ten miles from the ocean, every day hundreds of seagulls descend on the campus at a pre-determined time, ready to scavenge through hundreds upon hundreds of food wrappers, looking for the half-eaten pizza crusts, untouched fruit, and scattered french fries that are to be found in abundance; the flotsam and jetsam left in the wake of uncaring, under-socialized, irresponsible, self-centered students. I've never seen a seagull dig into one of the many, many trash cans placed about every twenty paces around the campus; they don't need to. They can remain fat and happy on what has been thrown away (dropped is a better word) in enough abundance that even flying ten miles one way to get here every day is well worth the smorgasbord that awaits them. There is enough half-eaten, untouched and undiscarded food lying around campus to force our custodial staff to have to come and clean up behind them twice a day to prevent the school from looking like Woodstock the morning after. If the custiodians were to skip just one day, there would certainly be a outcry from the students, who expect to walk through a pristine campus, but who feel no obligation to lift a finger to help create one.
Ironically, the very same students who throw their french fries at each other will shriek and run under the flapping cloud of seagulls over their heads, hoping not to be shat upon with yesterday's french fries. Poetic justice.
The recent edition of the school newspaper had an article noting the rearrangment of the custodial schedule in order to provide more cleaning of the restrooms, an action that was the result of student complaints about their condition. Most students consider this a grass-roots political victory: the populace applying pressure to their leaders to improve living conditions. If students would only throw away their own garbage out on the quad, the bathrooms may have had adequate attention all along, and the host of seagulls that the students have trained to fly in and crap on their heads every day wouldn't exist.
So what lesson have we learned? Be self-centered and blind, and refuse to make a connection between your actions and the results you have created. Be irresponsible, complain, and let the government wipe you.
And they'll be voting in a couple of years.
Sunday, January 13, 2008
A Drop of Water in the Desert
It's a typical afternoon. I'm teaching John Steinbeck to my juniors, helping them to see the Christian symbolism that is being used early on in Of Mice and Men to set up Lennie as a Christ-figure, an innocent that goes off to be slain. This class is just small enough that we ca all sitting in a big circle, seminar-style.
What I'm doing this day is nothing unusual for my class: Steinbeck employs the same Christian archetypes in most of his writing, and why shouldn't he? He's writing in Western Civilization to readers in Western Civilization. Christianity is almost a sine qua non. That's what makes his writing so powerful: he taps into the symbols in our cultural subconscious, and uses them masterfully.
Well, after I show them Lennie's baptism and immediate approval by the God-figure, Slim, I asked them why they think Steinbeck did that, and what they think will happen next. Some students thought that Lennie would then go on to do great things, and someone brought up the main character in The Green Mile, who is a Lennie type if there ever were one, complete with dead mouse. Others saw a more ominous future for Lennie: no doubt they were more familiar with the Gospel story. I moderated, but didn't let the cat out of the bag.
After a few minutes of this, I told them they'd just had a college-level lesson, and admitted that I never had a teacher in high school who showed any of this stuff to me; I had to wait until I was at the university before we entered this deeply into the text. And then we went on with the rest of the chapter; hopefully, with eyes opened up a bit wider.
Here's the point of my post. After class a student stayed behind, came up to me, thanked me for showing him how to look beyoned the surface, and shook my hand as a sign of gratitude.
Teachers rarely get this kind of feedback from students, so when it happens, it's notable. Student X, you appreciate me? Not as much as I appreciate you. Thank you.
What I'm doing this day is nothing unusual for my class: Steinbeck employs the same Christian archetypes in most of his writing, and why shouldn't he? He's writing in Western Civilization to readers in Western Civilization. Christianity is almost a sine qua non. That's what makes his writing so powerful: he taps into the symbols in our cultural subconscious, and uses them masterfully.
Well, after I show them Lennie's baptism and immediate approval by the God-figure, Slim, I asked them why they think Steinbeck did that, and what they think will happen next. Some students thought that Lennie would then go on to do great things, and someone brought up the main character in The Green Mile, who is a Lennie type if there ever were one, complete with dead mouse. Others saw a more ominous future for Lennie: no doubt they were more familiar with the Gospel story. I moderated, but didn't let the cat out of the bag.
After a few minutes of this, I told them they'd just had a college-level lesson, and admitted that I never had a teacher in high school who showed any of this stuff to me; I had to wait until I was at the university before we entered this deeply into the text. And then we went on with the rest of the chapter; hopefully, with eyes opened up a bit wider.
Here's the point of my post. After class a student stayed behind, came up to me, thanked me for showing him how to look beyoned the surface, and shook my hand as a sign of gratitude.
Teachers rarely get this kind of feedback from students, so when it happens, it's notable. Student X, you appreciate me? Not as much as I appreciate you. Thank you.
Tuesday, January 01, 2008
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