Higher Education

Well, I have made it through another semester. As of 11:17 yesterday, I am a free woman - until I start getting all those complaints from students who are not happy with their grades.

"Why did YOU GIVE ME a C?"

"It was a gift. I could have given you the F you deserve."

"I was not failing your class."

"No, not until you turned it the paper of which 80% was copied and pasted from Wikipedia."

"But I worked hard on that paper. It was eight pages long."

Yes, but there was not an original thought in it."

"This isn't fair."

"Well, neither is plagiarism."

This is just one scenario. We'll see how it really plays itself out. Fortunately, this type of situation does not come up too often.

Though most schools on the semester schedule are done for this academic year, my beloved older child, who is on the quarter system, has another five or six weeks of school. This is midterm for them. More importantly, it is U Chicago Scav Hunt weekend. This event is held every year on Mother's Day weekend. I think this is so all of us can sit around and wallow in our great success as parents. Knowing that our children are willing and able to participate in this exercise in creativity has to make a mother's heart sing.

Scav Hunt began at 6 am on Thursday morning. At 6:13 am I had two emails from Offspring 1 - one wanting to know her blood type because each Scav Hunt team had to have someone of each blood type donate blood. The rarer the blood type, the more points the team earned. She also wanted JCL (Junior Classical League) ribbons and trophies from high school - confirmation of a long standing record of nerd status. Since those preliminary emails, we have had a conversation about whether or not I knew a disgruntled bee keeper and if I had any suggestions on how to construct a pipe with which you could blow bubbles and smoke at the same time.

Many of the Scav Hunt items require a great deal of creativity; others require stupidity, and still others just require balls - literally and figuratively. Today's call featured the status of the wicker phallus that they were building. (She has promised to send pictures.)

Because the scav list aims to have something for everyone, the college aged knitter is not left out.. Knit something useful out of plastic grocery sacks and demonstrate its usefulness. I suggested to my child, who does knit, that perhaps she could knit a condom for the wicker phallus. I suspect that both would be equally useful.

Reading the list is quite amusing even if you have no intention in actively participating. Offspring 2 did a dramatic reading in her Biology class on Thursday morning but was cut short because the language of the academy is not suitable for high school ears.

I have included the link to the complete list. It is not too late to help the team!
2008 List

Whose Responsibility Is It?

About ten days ago, Erin and I went shopping for a dress for her to wear for Confirmation, which took place last Sunday. Dress shopping is not a happy experience for any of the girls in our family. It is unpleasant for both Brooke and me because we don't wear dresses and because any occasion that requires a dress is usually not one that we will enjoy. Erin, on the other hand, doesn't mind wearing the dresses, it is just difficult to find one that fits her correctly.

So, off we go to the mall. The first few places we looked yielded absolutely nothing. Just as I was about to start panicking, she found one that she liked and that fit. We bought it. She now needed matching shoes, another thing that makes me break out in hives. So, we made our way to another store. Just because we could, we looked at dresses there as well. The pressure was off; now we could just look for fun. Erin did not find another dress she liked. She found two and they both looked great. I'm not sure what I was thinking with that night, but the next thing I knew we were standing in line paying for dresses two and three of the evening. My rationale was that it is hard to find dresses for her so buy them while you can. The only problem, they too required shoes!

When we got home that night, Erin tried on the dresses again with the shoes and accessories that she convinced me were necessary. She discovered that the security tag had not been removed from one of them. My first thought was that those things are a waste since obviously we made it out of the store without setting off any alarms that would cause mall security to descend upon us. Upon reading the print on the tag, we discovered that it was an ink tag. If we tried to remove it, the dress would be instantly covered in black ink and would be ruined.

Since this was not the dress that Erin intended to wear to church the following Sunday, I figured that getting the tag taken off was not an immediate emergency. I finally got around to taking the dress back to the store today. It was still on its hanger and in the long bag with the store's name displayed prominently on it. I walked in to the nearest checkout counter and explained my tale of woe to the unfriendly clerk.

"Give me your receipt."

"I don't think I still have my receipt."

"How do you expect me to do anything about this if you don't have your receipt?"

"It was the failure of your employee to remove it at the time of purchase."

"Those things happen. I still can't do anything without a receipt."

"If that is the case, you are going to be dealing with one unhappy customer. Is there a manager I can speak with?

"I'll see."

The clerk then turned and spoke in almost a whisper to what I assume was a manager. I suspect she was saying something about the bitchy woman who was too stupid to hold on to her receipt just in case some incompetent sales clerk neglected to remove a security tag. Truthfully, I really didn't care what she had to day about me. I just wanted the damn tag removed so I could move on to more important things, like a cup of coffee.

The clerk finally hung up the phone and turned slowly around giving me one of those looks like a teacher gives a student when the student is asking for mercy because the dog has eaten his homework - again. Very laboriously she put the dress's tag on the little gizmo that releases the tag safely and gave it the magic pop while simultaneously lecturing me on the importance of keeping track of my receipts. Why did I need to keep my receipt? The dress fit and we had no intention of returning it for a refund. I had no need to retain the receipt. So I didn't. I refrained from giving her an equally annoying lecture on the necessity of brains and manners in the work place.

AT the point in the morning that this all took place, I had had no caffeine and nothing to eat so my energy reserves were low. I decided that I had wasted enough time with the Nazi clerk so I left. As I sat in the car fantasizing about the imminent cup of caffeine, I found myself wondering why it is my responsibility to take precautions in case of the incompetence of store clerks. I have enough to worry about. I don't need to save every single receipt just in case. I can't even manage to keep track of the ones that I need to get reimbursed for show props.

This is not my responsibility!

Happy Babies

"I don't have to sting anyone, do I?

"Life is fun among the flowers!"

"Do these antennas make my cheeks look big?"

"Snug as a bug."

"Mom loves me. She loves me not. She loves me."

"Watch my face, not my stinger."

"Of course I'm precious."

"Okay, Mom really doesn't like killer bees."

"Still life."

"You may remember me. I stepped out to make a phone call. Yep. Mom wants the picture."

Hi, Mom. I'm On Candid Camera!

Most teachers from preschool through elementary school are all faced with the same task at this time of year - creating a memorable Mother's Day project for their students to give to their mommies. Middle schoolers and high schoolers around here are too busy taking the #*!@ TAKS test (the state of Texas standardized test) right now and besides, many of them think that parents are stupid and are unworthy of a present. So, those teachers of older students are off the hook on the Mother's Day thing.

I was asked by a friend to help her provide gifts from the kids at her school. It seemed easy. All I had to do was take a few pictures. I love taking pictures; not so much "portraits", but these were to be of babies and everyone knows that babies do not pose. It is all candid camera with them. What my friend was hoping for was some spring looking Anne Geddies type pictures - babies, flowers, lady bugs, and bumble bees. Sounds cute, huh?

I took pictures of about thirty babies under the age of two. For the most part, it was fun and the wee ones were cooperative. Then there were these few . . .

"If you think my mommy will like this, I'll play along with your silly game. Personally, I think you all are nuts!"

"Help! Get me out of here! There are bees in these flowers."

"This is our first Mother's Day together. I really want to give her real flowers!"

"My mommy likes killer bees."

"You want me to do what? Can I call my mom and make sure this is what she really wants for Mother's Day?"

Now I know why many of the pictures that Anne Geddies takes are of sleeping babies.

I did manage to get some really cute shots, some even of these same little ones. Stay tuned for some of those.

Contemplative Exercise

Yesterday a friend gave me some bubbles. I must admit that I have not played with bubbles since the girls were little and I had forgotten how much fun they are. I had nothing pressing to be doing so I took the bubbles and went outside to enjoy the beautiful spring evening. Blowing bubbles into the soft breeze and watching them float through the air reminded me of how awesome the simple things in life are. I spent a great deal of time blowing the bubbles and watching them land, wondering whether they would pop as soon as they hit the ground or would they rest in the arms of the lush green grass? Like most such questions in life, I was not able to predict what would happen, where things would land, what would last, and what would disappear immediately.

The bubbles were given to me with the instruction that perhaps they would serve as a vehicle for a contemplative exercise. They were.

Does each bubble represent words unspoken? Thoughts left unexpressed? People unloved? Places unseen? Jobs undone? Prayers offered to God?

Do the bubbles obscure or intensify the grass? Do the bubbles that we all create around ourselves obscure or intensify our perspective on the world around us?

I'm not sure Harley was convinced of the contemplative nature of bubble blowing, but she did find some entertainment value.

Or, maybe I'm wrong. Perhaps she is as fascinated as I am by the contemplative practice of watching these transitory spheres float through the air.

This is straight out of the camera image of the bubbles against the evening sky. Though I think there are instances where Photoshop is a great tool for editing pictures, sometimes what you get is what you need to see. That is the case here. Editing all the images of our lives strips us of the most important pictures of what our world really looks like.
I love this image. Long after my bottle of bubbles is gone, I will have these pictures to remind me of yesterday, today, and the person who gave them to me.

Country Life

For the most part, life in th country is awesome - no traffic noise, just coyotes and cows. No bright lights, just the moon and the stars. And no city code enforcement, so the grass in our front yard can be six feet tall if we so desire. I must admit though that this really is not a good idea because the down side of country life is that there are many critters that share this land with us.

The other night after one of our violent spring thunderstorms, our big dumpster was blown over. When we lifted it to its proper position, several little field mice (rats?) had taken refuge under the upended dumpster. They were not too happy that we had disturbed their tornado shelter. I don't mind these field rodents as long as they maintain their residence in the field. I don't want to meet any of them on the way to the bathroom or at the dinner table. Fortunately (knock on wood) we have not had a problem with them coming inside. Perhaps three indoor cats make our house bad real estate investment for them.

The dogs also do their part to maintain rodent control around here. When Adidas was just a wee puppy, our then thirteen year old Golden Retriever took him out in the front and showed him how to catch a field rat. I'm not sure how she did it because by that point in her life she didn't move very fast. I didn't think Adidas paid much attention to his hunting lesson, but apparently he did. He has brought us several "former" field rodents this spring. Fortunately, he drops them on the back deck before he comes in. Being a good big brother, Adidas taught Harley this skill. She on the other hand, likes to bring her catch of the day inside so that we can all admire it. I wouldn't be surprised if she has one mounted above the mantel any day now.

The dogs have not stopped with rodents on their hunting expeditions. They have found a headless snake. I'm sure it was headless when they found it; they are not responsible for the decapitation. They are also fond of turtles. Actually, they like abandoned turtle shells. These smell a little bad and make a lot of noise as the dogs play hockey with them on the deck, but in the grand scheme of things, it could be a lot worse!

All and all, we have been fortunate in the domestic critter verses wild critter realm. No skunk encounters. No raccoons. No deer. No coyotes or mountain lions. For all of this, I am quite thankful.

I have been waiting for an unfortunate meeting of the animal kind. Every now and then we hear something under the deck outside my bedroom late at night. What we hear is not a growling or hissing like you might expect from a raccoon. It doesn't smell, thank God. It sounds as though something hard is hitting the underside of the deck. I have been convinced that it was an armadillo. Last spring we had one that would play out in the yard in the late afternoon. I think, however, that he lived over in the brush around the stock pond. And, I have not seen any armadillos around here since then. I will admit that I have been a little (no, a lot) reluctant to go stick my head down there and peek under the deck. As many nights as the dogs have gone out and barked and stood watch over the back deck, if it were something terribly dangerous, I think we would have had a problem by now. But, maybe not. So, I have been living by the philosophy what I don't know can't hurt me. Intellectually I know how stupid this is but the prevailing wisdom here is not based in smarts.

Yesterday, while I was doing some chores, the dogs were outside playing. They had been out for what seemed like forever. Usually they want to be inside, especially if they can do something to insure that any given chore takes three times as long as it should. I decided to look out the back door to see what they were up to, perhaps collecting a family of rodents?? When I peeked out the door, there they were - three dogs - Harley, Adidas and J.D. (the neighbor's dog who would rather live at our house. So he does.) And, in the middle of the circle of dogs was a huge turtle. Its shell was probably 14" in diameter. All the critters were enjoying the sunshine and warm spring air, and not bothering each other.

It was quite a sight. No, I do not have pictures because I decided that it was probably better to move the turtle, who was indeed still alive, to the pond. BK carried him over to the water. The last time she made me play the good Samaritan and move a turtle from the middle of the road, it turned out to be a snapping turtle with a REALLY long neck. She owed me this one. As it turned out, this guy was not a snapper, which is probably why all the dogs are still in one piece.

It dawned on me after the turtle was safely returned to the pond that he is probably what we were hearing under the deck. We may now be responsible for breaking up an amphibius family. I guess if he wants to take up permanent residence under the deck, he will find his way back. I would much rather him be our nearest neighbor than some of the other characters that inhabit these here parts.

Read All The Words

It is hard for me to believe that we are two weeks from the end of another semester and that I am writing the final assignments and tests for my classes. Though I like considering questions for tests, I really don't like to "give" the tests. I would much rather just gather around and have a group discussion about the questions at hand. Unfortunately, undergraduate academic life does not work that way. So, I must write questions in such a way that I can draw as much discussion as possible from my students without asking pointed questions that demand a specific answer. As strange as it may sound, clearly written open ended questions are more difficult to write than the typical objective test question. The key to successfully answering one of these questions on my tests is to read all of the words - carefully.

READ ALL THE WORDS.

This seems to be a mantra that I find myself saying as a mother and a teacher. It is advice I give to my own children as well as my students. As a general rule, the fewer words that something contains, like a test question, the more important each of those words becomes. I know this to be true and I know that READ ALL THE WORDS is sound advice for us all. Today this conviction was reinforced several times.

This morning I was baking a cake for a birthday celebration tomorrow. The recipe I was using is one that my mom gave me; it was my favorite birthday cake as a kid. I have made it many many times, though not very recently. I have not memorized the recipe though I have made it enough times that it is quite familiar to me. I began, as the recipe directed, by melting some butter and chocolate and then pouring this mixture over the typical dry cake ingredients. I then added eggs, buttermilk and vanilla. All seemed good. As I was pouring the cake into the pan, I had this feeling that something was missing. I went back and read through the ingredients on the recipe card. Nope. I had not forgotten anything. I put the cake in the oven to bake for its specified 40 minutes. About half way through the baking process I glanced into the oven. Something was not right. It then dawned on me that the recipe had not called for baking soda, a basic ingredient of almost any cake. Again I read the list of ingredients on the card. No baking soda.

When the timer buzzed signifying the end of the 40 minute baking period, I removed the cake from the oven. Something was definitely wrong. This was not the cake that I know and love. This was a chocolate sponge-a flat dense layer of chocolate sponge. It might have been good with a couple of scoops of ice cream on it, but it was certainly not deserving of the icing that the recipe called for. Frustrated by the fact that I could not figure out what I had done wrong, I went to the recipe card one more time.

This time, I did indeed read all the words. And, I found the error of my ways. Baking soda was indeed required. It just so happens that it was not listed separately in the recipe's list of ingredients. The card read "1/2 cup of buttermilk with one teaspoon of baking soda stirred in. I read the buttermilk part, several times, but had failed to read all the words that followed it.

The rather pathetic part of this story is that I had read the recipe looking specifically for "baking soda" and still missed it three times. That's a little embarrassing!

I remade the cake using all of the ingredients the second time. It has been iced and I believe it to be acceptable for tomorrow's party. I also somewhat redeemed myself by making chocolate chip banana bread avoiding all culinary disasters (I think).

While I was dealing with my flat cake, BK was having a similar problem with her knitting. She was trying to knit the edging onto a shawl following the instructions in a magazine. After several attempts, she could not get it to work correctly. In a desperate move, she solicited my help. I asked several question and tried my hand at following the given instructions. As it turned out, we were following those particular instructions correctly. The problem was that there was a little piece of very important information concerning this process that was way back at the beginning of the pattern. This detail was easily overlooked at the outset of the project because it was not really necessary at that time. However, at the point we found ourselves today, it was vital information.

Twice in one day I was faced with having to take my own advice.

READ ALL OF THE WORDS!