Seen in the last twenty-four hours.
Street Sign in Glenview: Schools Open
What did the schools open? Maybe now that SCHOOL'S open, someone will be able to write the rest of the sentence on the sign.
Local Newspaper Article: The talented young musicians visited their maternal family in Columbia. While in Columbia they..... When they left Columbia.....
Where is Columbia? Never heard of such a country. There is, however, a country called Colombia in NW South America. Maybe these talented musicians from the fictional Columbia should visit COLOMBIA some day. Wonder if schools open there?
Message on a listserv I read: X is so much better then Y.
Then is Y better also? Other THAN being a grammatically incorrect sentence, I'm actually of the opinion that Y is better THAN X.
So this afternoon, maybe I'll go to Glenview where schools open and sit in on a Spanish class where I'll learn that Columbia is farther north then Argentina.
Or maybe the Spanish class will actually be conducted in Spanish and I'll hear "Las escuelas ESTÁN abiertas y COLOMBIA está más al norte QUE la Argentina." Maybe then some of the above grammatical pain will go away. Ouch, ouch, ouch!
Friday, September 18, 2009
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
I Need to Laugh!
A snippet from my niece Nancy's blog today is the following, "I was getting dressed, while both boys were playing in the adjoining bathroom. I hear Owen say, "Joel! Enough with the tampons! Put them away." I read it and, alone at my kitchen table, I laughed aloud.
Nancy is the mom of two boys, ages three and one. Most everything she writes about the boys touches me because I've been there. While she gets understandably frustrated with their shenanigans, I have the luxury of idealized memory of those exhausting mothering years and often find myself laughing aloud at her story while remembering a similar event from 25 years ago. Nancy probably gets tired of my "Yeah, I remember when David or Kevin did the same thing." comments!
What I realized today, is that, aside from Nancy's blog, "House", and good times with girlfriends, I don't have too many opportunities to laugh aloud on a typical day. What I do have is a lot of absurdity. For example:
1. My mother's table mates, Molly and Sally, have been feuding. Yesterday Sally accidentally hit Molly's leg with the leg support of her wheelchair. Molly, who has the sweetest disposition in the world, yelled "Don't do that." Sally was so angry at being rebuked that she literally took her plate and sat at a different table. My mother was distressed that she was dragged into this spat because each woman wanted Mom on her side of the dispute. So today I asked Mom if Sally and Molly were still angry. Mom replied that she had asked Molly this morning if things were OK with Sally and was asked, "Why do you ask. Was there a problem?"
8th grade boys and toddler boys have the same reaction: yell and scream about an issue and then completely forget it occurred. Not a bad way to live!
2. Mom mentioned that they had french toast for breakfast today. I retorted with the classic family line, "Did you have toast with your french toast?" and she looked at me like I was crazy. Many, many years ago on a family trip to Florida we had an incredibly incompetent waitress who messed up an entire simple breakfast order but is most remembered for asking, "Do you want toast with your french toast?" I can't believe Mom forgot a classic family story! I wonder if she also forgot that, on that same trip, I bopped my brother on the head with "Blup Blup", a turquoise and yellow stuffed dog with a very hard music box buried inside the "fur", and Ed proceeded to vomit for several hours? That was probably the same trip during which we collected some pretty shells, put them in a bag on the back shelf of the car, and then had to live with the odor of baked dead snails all the way home. Ah, the absurdities of youth that we remember and cherish!
3. I gave blood today. Actually I gave platelets, a process that takes close to three hours. While my left arm was tied down, I attempted to read an actual serious book in my right hand. Unfortunately, there was a TV right in my line of sight. Although I couldn't hear it, my eyes kept being drawn to.......yes!.....the Maury Povich show. It was a "Back to School" show that featured attractive women gyrating in cheerleader outfits. The premise was, "Is the cheerleader really male or female?" I AM NOT MAKING THIS UP! Each woman came out, did her little dance, then Maury asked audience members what gender each "woman" was, then the sex was revealed......over and over again! The updated "score" flashed before every commercial break.
I've been fussing over the (in my opinion) stupidity of people who objected to the president telling kids to work hard in school or who think that Obama was born in Kenya or who think that the proposed health plan is going to have death squads to kill off Grandma. Maybe I'm wrong to brand those folks as "wrong". Based on my daytime TV watching today, I may have to change my view. Having an opinion--even a wrong one :-)-- about a political issue is way, way superior to predicting a cheerleader's sex.
So, I don't have many "laugh-out-louds" but I sure have lots of "If it weren't so sad, it would be funnys".
Nancy is the mom of two boys, ages three and one. Most everything she writes about the boys touches me because I've been there. While she gets understandably frustrated with their shenanigans, I have the luxury of idealized memory of those exhausting mothering years and often find myself laughing aloud at her story while remembering a similar event from 25 years ago. Nancy probably gets tired of my "Yeah, I remember when David or Kevin did the same thing." comments!
What I realized today, is that, aside from Nancy's blog, "House", and good times with girlfriends, I don't have too many opportunities to laugh aloud on a typical day. What I do have is a lot of absurdity. For example:
1. My mother's table mates, Molly and Sally, have been feuding. Yesterday Sally accidentally hit Molly's leg with the leg support of her wheelchair. Molly, who has the sweetest disposition in the world, yelled "Don't do that." Sally was so angry at being rebuked that she literally took her plate and sat at a different table. My mother was distressed that she was dragged into this spat because each woman wanted Mom on her side of the dispute. So today I asked Mom if Sally and Molly were still angry. Mom replied that she had asked Molly this morning if things were OK with Sally and was asked, "Why do you ask. Was there a problem?"
8th grade boys and toddler boys have the same reaction: yell and scream about an issue and then completely forget it occurred. Not a bad way to live!
2. Mom mentioned that they had french toast for breakfast today. I retorted with the classic family line, "Did you have toast with your french toast?" and she looked at me like I was crazy. Many, many years ago on a family trip to Florida we had an incredibly incompetent waitress who messed up an entire simple breakfast order but is most remembered for asking, "Do you want toast with your french toast?" I can't believe Mom forgot a classic family story! I wonder if she also forgot that, on that same trip, I bopped my brother on the head with "Blup Blup", a turquoise and yellow stuffed dog with a very hard music box buried inside the "fur", and Ed proceeded to vomit for several hours? That was probably the same trip during which we collected some pretty shells, put them in a bag on the back shelf of the car, and then had to live with the odor of baked dead snails all the way home. Ah, the absurdities of youth that we remember and cherish!
3. I gave blood today. Actually I gave platelets, a process that takes close to three hours. While my left arm was tied down, I attempted to read an actual serious book in my right hand. Unfortunately, there was a TV right in my line of sight. Although I couldn't hear it, my eyes kept being drawn to.......yes!.....the Maury Povich show. It was a "Back to School" show that featured attractive women gyrating in cheerleader outfits. The premise was, "Is the cheerleader really male or female?" I AM NOT MAKING THIS UP! Each woman came out, did her little dance, then Maury asked audience members what gender each "woman" was, then the sex was revealed......over and over again! The updated "score" flashed before every commercial break.
I've been fussing over the (in my opinion) stupidity of people who objected to the president telling kids to work hard in school or who think that Obama was born in Kenya or who think that the proposed health plan is going to have death squads to kill off Grandma. Maybe I'm wrong to brand those folks as "wrong". Based on my daytime TV watching today, I may have to change my view. Having an opinion--even a wrong one :-)-- about a political issue is way, way superior to predicting a cheerleader's sex.
So, I don't have many "laugh-out-louds" but I sure have lots of "If it weren't so sad, it would be funnys".
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Possessions
This has been a week of "stuff". "Stuff" as in possessions.
On Monday Kevin and I went to the storage locker and brought home all the remaining boxes of my mother's smaller possessions. We piled the boxes on the family room floor and tripped over them for a couple of days until I had time to find out what lurked inside---a job I thought would take several hours. It took less than one hour! Most of the boxes were marked "possible garage sale" or "decorative" and that's exactly what they were: perfectly decent decorative items that no one in the family would ever want.
Lest you think my mother has no taste, these decorative items were the leftovers---good leftovers, but leftovers nonetheless. When the whole family was gathered for Mom's 80th birthday seven years ago, Mom made everyone identify items that they would eventually want. After some hemming and hawing about this somewhat macabre activity, everyone did, in fact, choose items that were meaningful to them. It was touching and surprising to see what everyone chose.
Then almost two years ago my brother and I had only two days to completely empty Mom's apartment after she moved to the nursing home. Although we both married people who like to hold on to stuff, neither Ed or I got that gene. Our spouses would have choked to see us tossing ten items for every one that we kept...but they weren't there, so the genetically programmed tossers prevailed. The items that were kept either went to a refugee family that just happened to be arriving the next day or into a "temporary" storage locker. A few more stored items later went to another refugee family, but mostly the locker remained full, unvisited, and costly.
So, after pulling out a few items that will be useful to Kevin in a future apartment, I loaded my car and drove everything else to a resale shop which benefits a charity we support. I expected to go through the boxes yet once again with the resale shop staff, but, no, we just piled the boxes in their storeroom and that was that.
Meanwhile, Ken's brother Rick and his friend Raúl have put a new roof on our house and garage. Raúl and Rick graciously followed me to the storage unit today and loaded Raúl's truck with the bed, couch, desk, and bookshelf that remained in storage. Then Rick said, "Sure, I'll take the desk and couch!" The bed, by the way, is going to yet another refugee family.
As we were going down in the elevator at the storage place, Raúl asked me how much the storage unit cost. His mouth fell open when I told him. I could see him doing the mental math and figuring out the yearly cost. More has been spent for the storage locker that he made in four days of sweating on our roof! Something is wrong there...especially when you consider the hundreds of lockers in each of the thousands of storage faciities around the country!
We really had no alternative at the time we rented the storage unit, but I'm sure glad that it's now empty. I'm thrilled that three refugee families have furniture, lamps, dishes and cutlery. I'm glad Kevin will someday have a microwave and that Rick will use the couch. I'm glad that resale store shoppers will find inexpensive decorative items that they will enjoy and I'm glad that the charity will benefit too. And I'm glad I have the few mementos from Mom's things that give me warm feelings. Unbeknown to her, Mom has done a great job of recycling!
And, dear readers, anyone who EVER communicates with my mother is SWORN to secrecy on this recycling venture! It's still super important to her that her stuff is still HER stuff.
On Monday Kevin and I went to the storage locker and brought home all the remaining boxes of my mother's smaller possessions. We piled the boxes on the family room floor and tripped over them for a couple of days until I had time to find out what lurked inside---a job I thought would take several hours. It took less than one hour! Most of the boxes were marked "possible garage sale" or "decorative" and that's exactly what they were: perfectly decent decorative items that no one in the family would ever want.
Lest you think my mother has no taste, these decorative items were the leftovers---good leftovers, but leftovers nonetheless. When the whole family was gathered for Mom's 80th birthday seven years ago, Mom made everyone identify items that they would eventually want. After some hemming and hawing about this somewhat macabre activity, everyone did, in fact, choose items that were meaningful to them. It was touching and surprising to see what everyone chose.
Then almost two years ago my brother and I had only two days to completely empty Mom's apartment after she moved to the nursing home. Although we both married people who like to hold on to stuff, neither Ed or I got that gene. Our spouses would have choked to see us tossing ten items for every one that we kept...but they weren't there, so the genetically programmed tossers prevailed. The items that were kept either went to a refugee family that just happened to be arriving the next day or into a "temporary" storage locker. A few more stored items later went to another refugee family, but mostly the locker remained full, unvisited, and costly.
So, after pulling out a few items that will be useful to Kevin in a future apartment, I loaded my car and drove everything else to a resale shop which benefits a charity we support. I expected to go through the boxes yet once again with the resale shop staff, but, no, we just piled the boxes in their storeroom and that was that.
Meanwhile, Ken's brother Rick and his friend Raúl have put a new roof on our house and garage. Raúl and Rick graciously followed me to the storage unit today and loaded Raúl's truck with the bed, couch, desk, and bookshelf that remained in storage. Then Rick said, "Sure, I'll take the desk and couch!" The bed, by the way, is going to yet another refugee family.
As we were going down in the elevator at the storage place, Raúl asked me how much the storage unit cost. His mouth fell open when I told him. I could see him doing the mental math and figuring out the yearly cost. More has been spent for the storage locker that he made in four days of sweating on our roof! Something is wrong there...especially when you consider the hundreds of lockers in each of the thousands of storage faciities around the country!
We really had no alternative at the time we rented the storage unit, but I'm sure glad that it's now empty. I'm thrilled that three refugee families have furniture, lamps, dishes and cutlery. I'm glad Kevin will someday have a microwave and that Rick will use the couch. I'm glad that resale store shoppers will find inexpensive decorative items that they will enjoy and I'm glad that the charity will benefit too. And I'm glad I have the few mementos from Mom's things that give me warm feelings. Unbeknown to her, Mom has done a great job of recycling!
And, dear readers, anyone who EVER communicates with my mother is SWORN to secrecy on this recycling venture! It's still super important to her that her stuff is still HER stuff.
Monday, September 7, 2009
When Were Magic Markers Introduced?
Research to "prove" my allegation in my post about "The Help" that Magic Markers weren't around in 1962. Here's more than you ever wanted to know.
In 1989, Binney & Smith, best known for its Crayola products, and the leading children's marker manufacturer, enters into a licensing agreement for exclusive rights to the Magic Marker brand name... In 1991, after three years of product development, Binney & Smith introduces a revamped, redesigned and improved Magic Marker line that includes highlighters and permanent markers [magic markers become thinner]... !n 1996, fine point Magic Marker II DryErase markers are introduced for detailed writing and drawing on white boards, dry erase boards and glass surfaces."
Highlighters and fine-line markers were first seen in the 1970's. Permanent markers also became available around this time. Superfine-points and dry erase markers gained popularity in the 1990's.
In 1989, Binney & Smith, best known for its Crayola products, and the leading children's marker manufacturer, enters into a licensing agreement for exclusive rights to the Magic Marker brand name... In 1991, after three years of product development, Binney & Smith introduces a revamped, redesigned and improved Magic Marker line that includes highlighters and permanent markers [magic markers become thinner]... !n 1996, fine point Magic Marker II DryErase markers are introduced for detailed writing and drawing on white boards, dry erase boards and glass surfaces."
Highlighters and fine-line markers were first seen in the 1970's. Permanent markers also became available around this time. Superfine-points and dry erase markers gained popularity in the 1990's.
Rant
I have been just sick reading posts on the foreign language listserv to which I subscribe. The vast majority are reporting that their school districts are forbidding or greatly restricting their students from watching President Obama's speech to schoolchildren tomorrow. Yes, I am an Obama supporter, but I would be having the same feelings if Rush Lumbaugh were in office.
How on earth did this country arrive at a spot where parents and/or school administrators think it is bad for children to hear a possibly different point of view? Isn't learning about different ideas and then making an educated decision on one's own viewpoint the basis of education?
I am reminded of an 8th grade girl who was a representative when my friend Barb and I were student council sponsors back in the early 70's. Barb and I were trying to get the kids to tell us their opinions on some societal issue and were getting nowhere with the conversation. Finally an articulate young woman said, "Well, you know that at our ages we just believe what our parents believe." That was a powerful and very true statement.
What a wonderful opportunity listening to the President can provide to parents of both liberal and conservative persuasions! Dinner time conversation after the speech provides parents with the opportunity to declare if they agree or disagree with what was said...and why. Children are presented with an opportunity to hear their parents clearly articulate their beliefs and, being young, they are most likely "going to believe what our parents believe." because they love and respect what their parents stand for. Parents also have the huge opportunity to show respect for the office of president even if they don't agree with his stand on certain issues.
Unfortunately, we seem to be at a place where letting our children possibly hear a controversial point of view is frightening. (And how controversial is talking about working hard in school?) How sad for those children. How sad for all of us.
And this, dear folks, is what the controversy is all about! Unbelievable!
http://www.whitehouse.gov/MediaResources/PreparedSchoolRemarks/
How on earth did this country arrive at a spot where parents and/or school administrators think it is bad for children to hear a possibly different point of view? Isn't learning about different ideas and then making an educated decision on one's own viewpoint the basis of education?
I am reminded of an 8th grade girl who was a representative when my friend Barb and I were student council sponsors back in the early 70's. Barb and I were trying to get the kids to tell us their opinions on some societal issue and were getting nowhere with the conversation. Finally an articulate young woman said, "Well, you know that at our ages we just believe what our parents believe." That was a powerful and very true statement.
What a wonderful opportunity listening to the President can provide to parents of both liberal and conservative persuasions! Dinner time conversation after the speech provides parents with the opportunity to declare if they agree or disagree with what was said...and why. Children are presented with an opportunity to hear their parents clearly articulate their beliefs and, being young, they are most likely "going to believe what our parents believe." because they love and respect what their parents stand for. Parents also have the huge opportunity to show respect for the office of president even if they don't agree with his stand on certain issues.
Unfortunately, we seem to be at a place where letting our children possibly hear a controversial point of view is frightening. (And how controversial is talking about working hard in school?) How sad for those children. How sad for all of us.
And this, dear folks, is what the controversy is all about! Unbelievable!
http://www.whitehouse.gov/MediaResources/PreparedSchoolRemarks/
Sunday, September 6, 2009
1962
I just finished a wonderful book, "The Help" by Kathryn Stockett. A member of our book group said we simply HAD to read this book. I was a little irritated when I found out it was only available in hardcover...against our group's "rules"....but now I completely agree with her. We HAD to read this book!
"The Help" is set in Jackson, Mississippi in 1962-3 and tells the story of a white woman and two "colored" maids who did a very daring thing and changed their town forever. I'm not going to do a book review, but do have three very different commentaries to make: one serious reflection, one re-emergence of the red pencil wielding teacher, and a commentary on hair.
THE SERIOUS REFLECTION
In 1962-3 I was a senior in high school and began my first year of college. I grew up in segregated Chicago: on the very segregated south side until age 11, then in a lily white part of the north side. My parents had probably never had any personal contact with black people and had grown up living with the "lines" that separated white and black neighborhoods on the south side. My father always reminded us to lock our car doors when we drove through black neighborhoods on the way to visit my grandmother. Although I didn't hear hateful or racist things at home, there was fear and anxiety over "those people" moving into previously white areas. A bit later in the 60's my grandmother's neighborhood changed and, while she had a nice black family next door, the "change" was accompanied by some frightening violence by both whites and blacks. Our family was mighty relieved when my grandmother moved to a retirement home far from south side troubles.
As bad as Chicago was in those years, it was much worse in the Mississippi described so well in "The Help". I remember being astounded as a child when we witnessed "black" and "white" public drinking fountains while driving through the south on a vacation---something I hadn't ever seen in the north. In a thousand different ways, the author brings home how black maids were daily faced with black and white everything: not just water fountains or bathrooms but also not being allowed in the "white" grocery unless they were in uniform and not even being allowed in the public library. Unbelievably hateful and humiliating comments were made by white families to their maids, the very women whom they entrusted with raising their children. Powerful whites were able to maim or imprison a black person without any proof of wrong doing.
What blows my mind is how all this was going on when I was seventeen years old and I just went on living my teen-age life in my safe cocoon. I was vaguely aware of Martin Luther King, vaguely aware of some of the atrocities of bombed churches and murdered children, vaguely aware of the death of Medgar Evers, vaguely aware of peace marches. My real concerns, however, were buying prom dresses and passing physics.
I think my own children were much more aware of the world around them because they were exposed to more real current issues in their social studies and English classes. They also grew up surrounded by friends of many different cultures, so I don't think their world was every quite as cocoonish as mine was. I hope it wasn't, but do wonder if merely being a teenager prevents us from really seeing the world.
Fortunately, I grew up..
RED PENCIL WIELDING TEACHER
About page fifty of the book, the author mentioned panty hose and my ears pricked up! Panty hose had not yet been invented in 1962. I remember that very specifically because in 1967 I was in Mexico for a teacher program, ran out of nylons (which we HAD to wear daily because we "represented the US"), and had to make do with stockings for the average short statured Mexican woman. Not a pleasant experience!
The author also talked about frosted hair. Too early for that too!
Twice her characters greeted each other with "Hey". No one said "hey" in greeting until a few years ago!
One of the maids said something to a child about using markers in school. I'll have to google markers....but I know they weren't around in 1962.
Tsk Tsk
HAIR
White women spending hours under their hairdryers was mentioned several times in the book. I had forgotten those lovely items. You would "set" your wet hair using those awful metal brush rollers that felt like needles were pricking your scalp. Then you would put this big plastic hood over your head, click the thick plastic hose into the hood and the dryer mechanism, and sit somewhere unable to do anything but read for the hour or so it took to dry your hair.
Then, if your hair was anything like mine, it would do exactly what it wanted to do anyway!
I plan to say a special thank you to my blow dryer tomorrow morning when I spend approximately three minutes drying my hair....and letting it do exactly what it wants to do anyway.
"The Help" is set in Jackson, Mississippi in 1962-3 and tells the story of a white woman and two "colored" maids who did a very daring thing and changed their town forever. I'm not going to do a book review, but do have three very different commentaries to make: one serious reflection, one re-emergence of the red pencil wielding teacher, and a commentary on hair.
THE SERIOUS REFLECTION
In 1962-3 I was a senior in high school and began my first year of college. I grew up in segregated Chicago: on the very segregated south side until age 11, then in a lily white part of the north side. My parents had probably never had any personal contact with black people and had grown up living with the "lines" that separated white and black neighborhoods on the south side. My father always reminded us to lock our car doors when we drove through black neighborhoods on the way to visit my grandmother. Although I didn't hear hateful or racist things at home, there was fear and anxiety over "those people" moving into previously white areas. A bit later in the 60's my grandmother's neighborhood changed and, while she had a nice black family next door, the "change" was accompanied by some frightening violence by both whites and blacks. Our family was mighty relieved when my grandmother moved to a retirement home far from south side troubles.
As bad as Chicago was in those years, it was much worse in the Mississippi described so well in "The Help". I remember being astounded as a child when we witnessed "black" and "white" public drinking fountains while driving through the south on a vacation---something I hadn't ever seen in the north. In a thousand different ways, the author brings home how black maids were daily faced with black and white everything: not just water fountains or bathrooms but also not being allowed in the "white" grocery unless they were in uniform and not even being allowed in the public library. Unbelievably hateful and humiliating comments were made by white families to their maids, the very women whom they entrusted with raising their children. Powerful whites were able to maim or imprison a black person without any proof of wrong doing.
What blows my mind is how all this was going on when I was seventeen years old and I just went on living my teen-age life in my safe cocoon. I was vaguely aware of Martin Luther King, vaguely aware of some of the atrocities of bombed churches and murdered children, vaguely aware of the death of Medgar Evers, vaguely aware of peace marches. My real concerns, however, were buying prom dresses and passing physics.
I think my own children were much more aware of the world around them because they were exposed to more real current issues in their social studies and English classes. They also grew up surrounded by friends of many different cultures, so I don't think their world was every quite as cocoonish as mine was. I hope it wasn't, but do wonder if merely being a teenager prevents us from really seeing the world.
Fortunately, I grew up..
RED PENCIL WIELDING TEACHER
About page fifty of the book, the author mentioned panty hose and my ears pricked up! Panty hose had not yet been invented in 1962. I remember that very specifically because in 1967 I was in Mexico for a teacher program, ran out of nylons (which we HAD to wear daily because we "represented the US"), and had to make do with stockings for the average short statured Mexican woman. Not a pleasant experience!
The author also talked about frosted hair. Too early for that too!
Twice her characters greeted each other with "Hey". No one said "hey" in greeting until a few years ago!
One of the maids said something to a child about using markers in school. I'll have to google markers....but I know they weren't around in 1962.
Tsk Tsk
HAIR
White women spending hours under their hairdryers was mentioned several times in the book. I had forgotten those lovely items. You would "set" your wet hair using those awful metal brush rollers that felt like needles were pricking your scalp. Then you would put this big plastic hood over your head, click the thick plastic hose into the hood and the dryer mechanism, and sit somewhere unable to do anything but read for the hour or so it took to dry your hair.
Then, if your hair was anything like mine, it would do exactly what it wanted to do anyway!
I plan to say a special thank you to my blow dryer tomorrow morning when I spend approximately three minutes drying my hair....and letting it do exactly what it wants to do anyway.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Can't Leave Well Enough Alone
I've spent the last few days rewriting my Art of Spain presentations. I added pictures of Picasso and Dalí' paintings and sculptures that we saw in various museums in Paris. That meant that I had to do research on these artworks. That meant I had to rewrite my notes and the student notes.
I had a ball!
During July and August I rewrote the handbooks for my BER seminars. Then I had to rewrite the "script" and re-do much of the Power Point for the Differentiation seminar. After presenting the seminar in El Paso in August, I realize I have to do yet more adjusting because I ran out of time for some things.
It's really satisfying!
The next project is to rewrite the script and re-do the Power Point for the Active Conversation seminar.
I'm looking forward to it!
Then I'll be done....unless I decide to mess with them yet again!
Now, all three of these presentations and materials were really quite OK before I began fiddling with them. But,just as I rarely used material in exactly the same way from year to year in my teaching, I still have that need to make things a little better.
So, why do I "waste" time doing this?
1. I really do feel a need to fix whatever bothers me about a presentation.
2. I really do enjoy having adequate time to devote to such a project. Yeah,
retirement! Whatever I'm doing doesn't have to be done during my preparation
period between 9:37 and 10:22!
3. It really is fun to find all that cool information now available on the Internet!
4. (TRUE CONFESSION) If I'm doing this, I don't have to deal with all the house
tasks!
What will it take to give me the same intrinsic need to make things a little better in my house? Why can't I find the same satisfaction from cleaning out a file cabinet?
Or organizing recipes? Or, yikes!, clearing out my mother's storage locker?
I need a brain make-over. Wonder if there is a TV show "What Not to Do?" that can help me find joy in house tasks?
I had a ball!
During July and August I rewrote the handbooks for my BER seminars. Then I had to rewrite the "script" and re-do much of the Power Point for the Differentiation seminar. After presenting the seminar in El Paso in August, I realize I have to do yet more adjusting because I ran out of time for some things.
It's really satisfying!
The next project is to rewrite the script and re-do the Power Point for the Active Conversation seminar.
I'm looking forward to it!
Then I'll be done....unless I decide to mess with them yet again!
Now, all three of these presentations and materials were really quite OK before I began fiddling with them. But,just as I rarely used material in exactly the same way from year to year in my teaching, I still have that need to make things a little better.
So, why do I "waste" time doing this?
1. I really do feel a need to fix whatever bothers me about a presentation.
2. I really do enjoy having adequate time to devote to such a project. Yeah,
retirement! Whatever I'm doing doesn't have to be done during my preparation
period between 9:37 and 10:22!
3. It really is fun to find all that cool information now available on the Internet!
4. (TRUE CONFESSION) If I'm doing this, I don't have to deal with all the house
tasks!
What will it take to give me the same intrinsic need to make things a little better in my house? Why can't I find the same satisfaction from cleaning out a file cabinet?
Or organizing recipes? Or, yikes!, clearing out my mother's storage locker?
I need a brain make-over. Wonder if there is a TV show "What Not to Do?" that can help me find joy in house tasks?
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