Horrible Day

I was having a bad day yesterday. They happen.

The class I am teaching is going really well. There are some things I would want to change the next time I teach it. There are stupid comments I've made that I would love to have back. But, these are small things and I assume everyone who has ever taught has these issues every time they teach.

The stress of the class is coming from the athletes. I am outright terrified of failing them. I hem and I haw about accepting their tardiness and lack of effort. It has had me bunched up knots and yesterday I cracked.

But the point is the silly status message I posted on Facebook:

Richard is having a horrible, terrible, no good, very bad day. He thinks he'll move to Australia.

And the number of comments and wall posts I've gotten are more than I've ever received. There is something that resonates about that simple childhood story. A guy from high school said I needed a purple yo-yo. A friend from college said she hates lima beans too. In bits and chunks we all remember the book and somehow that connects us.

It is strangely touching.

I am thinking of adding a shelf of children's books to my office collection.

Moving on up

Even though I took possession of the keys after closing on Friday, I hadn't moved into the new condo until Monday. For those who will one day purchase property: make sure you plan ahead by calling the power, water and gas companies to turn on these services the day you close! I could get in, but I couldn't turn on a light, put anything in the refrigerator, or take a hot shower. As a result, much of the weekend was spent just moving boxes from one residence to another.

Everything was up and running by Monday afternoon, so last night (after buying a huge ass TV, then watching the Packers game at the bar down the street) I settle in for my first night as a homeowner.

I'm cheap, so I avoid turning on the AC at all costs. I figure, I live in Texas, I should just get used to sweat. Really though, at night it cools down to a reasonable temperature in the 70's. With a ceiling fan, you are in decent shape.

I opened up one of the floor to ceiling windows downstairs in the living room, laid out one sheet and used another sheet as a blanket. I had a lot on my mind and wasn't surprised by a lack of sleep.

I was surprised at 4 in the morning when the fucking sprinklers turned on and I was shot in the face by a torrent of water. Cooling? Yes. Invited? No. I scrambled to shut the window and tried again up stairs in the actual bedroom that does not yet have bed (Thursday, I'm told).

My idea of have the TV anywhere near the windows also goes out the window as one night I am bound to get drunk and forget to shut it before going to bed. That would be a massive FAIL in the morning.

I didn't think this REALLY happened

here is an email exchange during the first week of teaching:

To my TA:

I am the mother of one of the students in the AGEC class, xxxxxxx. My work email is on xxxxxx profile at the university and you have sent the email to me instead of xxxxxx. But while I have your attention, I would like for you to know that I have spent every evening on the phone with xxxxxx because of the lack of teaching in the classroom for this subject. xxxxxx is so STRESSED out he is doubting himself. xxxxxx can not simply read and do something when it comes to a "math" based subject. He is DYSLEXIC! Because of the class xxxxx is doubting himself and the fact that if he should be at College Station. xxxxxx left the Galveston campus with a 3.03 GPA, he is very intelligent and a very responsible person but just learns in a very different way. The Aggie Pride and Respect in diminishing very rapidly in my eyes, I thought everyone up there cared about their fellow student and classmate. I work with seven former Aggie and they tell me all these wonderful things about when they were at College Station, I have yet to see it with my own eyes and hear it with my own ears. I would rather you did not say anything to xxxxx about me sending you this email, but I am sure you will. Please answer this question for me, when is the teaching in class prior to a homework subject going to begin? I know that you or any other professor or TA is not there to hold his hand but you are there to teach. Am I not right?

My TA's response:

I cannot control who the messages go out to. I send an email to administration and they send it out to those who are registered for the course. If yours is the address they have on file for XXXXXXX, I'm afraid you will continue to get emails for the course. I would suggest that you either block these or contact the University.
If your son has a learning disability he should speak to the professor so as to get any special allowances he is due. I know nothing of such policies. I am only the TA.
As far as the homework goes. Yes, Professor Dunn assigns homework before he teaches the subject. This is simply to encourage students to read and think about the subject before he teaches it so that they're more receptive to each lecture. This does cause the homework to be more difficult for students and emphasizes reading. However, the grading is basically credit/no credit. If they made a valid attempt to answer all questions they receive full credit. If your student is struggling with the problems that is normal. There is no reason to stress out about them. If he tries, he will get credit.
I hope this alleviates your concerns,

But this just got her going....

This does not alleviates my concerns. The teaching methods in this subject seems to be done backwards. Why are you and the Professor stress xxxxxx and possibly other students out, that is uncalled for. Teach the topic first, do the homework for reinforcement and then answer any questions they may have after the homework is done. Not assign homework and then do the topic, how is that conducive to learning? I understand that you or any other professors are not there to hold a student's hand. But, you are not there to create an environment that is not conducive to learning, you are there to create an environment comfortable for a student to want to learn and to be excited about learning and this is not the case. I am attending XXX and I have never had a professor or TA that has created an environment like what is going on up there now. xxxxxx has not spoke with the professor or you because he is to nervous to come speak with ya'll, why is that. I just do not understand the theory in your's or the professor's teaching methods. When you create havoc prior to an homework assignment the student is not going to learn anything. Some student need more from a professor than just read the material and then do the homework, they need to be shown examples about the topic with the book as a reference source!

This is when the TA gave up [ed. he should have never tried] and forwarded everything to me. Can you believe it. After two classes (1 homework assignment!) this hits me. I emailed back explaining my pedagogical perspective and was relieved to get this:

No worries at this point. XXXXXXX has dropped your class and will take AG Economics some other time. I still do not agree with your teaching methods especially with a student that has a learning disability like Dyslexia, as XXXX does. There is no way he was able to begin to do the homework and make an attempt on it because he was lost without explanation of the information. I am getting the impression that you are not willing to work with learning disabled students. Have a nice semester. Oh, by the way you do have students in your class that do not plan on being an "economist." XXXXXXX goal is to become a Texas Parks and Wildlife Game Warden!

There are so many possible responses to this encounter. I am getting old. I recognize this because my immediate reaction was to actually try and understand this woman. Her child has a disability. She may have raised him as a single mother, struggling to get a mostly broken education system to provide her son the necessary tools to succeed later in life. I suppose if you've had to do this for 20 years, her reaction is borderline instinctive.

But, my understanding only goes so far. She never offered a workable alternative. Instead, she wasted time insulting me and providing her own asinine teaching philosophy (great, your son doesn't want to be an economist, but does his English professor teach him how to take care of deer in his Victorian Lit class?) Despite her best intentions, I think she is undermining her son who is too scared to talk to me in person.

I honestly empathize with this woman. But, another part of me just wants to tell her to go fuck herself.

I'm back

There has been so much going on this past month-so much that I could blog about-that I didn't have the time or motivation to post.

But, I have an hour before class and no good ideas on how to repair my fantasy football season (at least I didn't draft Tom Brady). Time to blog.

Since August, I've been to my first football game at Kyle Field, headed back to New York for my 10 year high school reunion, taught my first class, went to my first economics department seminar, met some great folks at the new faculty orientation, bought my first house and spent an afternoon flipping through fabric samples. There's lots to say about all of this, but that will come. Promise...because I take my responsibility of helping you procrastinate very seriously.

McAllen,III

Just finish the dad gum trip to McAllen and move on!

Ok. Ok. I heard ya, already!

The trip back to College Station was much as I expected: a stop at a farm-stand for watermelon; a stop at an ag corporation to network with alums; and a stop just north of Corpus Chirsti for lunch.

The Gulf of Mexico is a wonderful turquoise blue...and cloudier than all get out. Apparently, this is the cost of all the refining that takes place along the Texas coast from Port Author to Corpus. It certainly doesn't have the salty sweet smell of the North Atlantic, but I would have jumped in given the chance.

We ate on the second floor of dockside restaurant and it was cool to watch the brown pelicans and great blue heron and white egrets land on the boats moored in the harbor with a mound of fresh local crab meat sitting in front of me.

The big destination for the afternoon was a rice farm to see harvest. All the images I have of rice farming come from Vietnam War movies. I was informed that the flooded fields of Southeast Asia depend on lots of manual labor. The flooding is actually a weed control measure. But, the rice can't be submerged, so it is germinated separately and then planted when it is tall enough to rise above the water line.

In developed countries, we use herbicides first, plant the rice in dry fields, and then slowly increase the water level as the rice grows. To harvest the rice, the field is drained and then they wait for a rainless period. That's when the combines go to work. And these mo-fo's are big.
Each combine has a huge cylinder in front called the header, that cuts the crop and then sends it through the thresher, where the grain is separated from the stalk. As the header spins, insects and rodents that were living in the fields become exposed...and thus dinner for these guys:
They are cattle egret and they just follow along the side of the combine waiting for meals. I saw two mice swallowed in one gulp, but mostly they are looking for grasshoppers and stick bugs. Up close, they look like:
The coolest part was I got to see the whole process from inside the combine:
And after the combine is full, the grain is shot into a dump truck:
Pretty cool, really.

Then we went to Dairy Queen for a Blizzard. The End.

Something new

So far, the blog has been a running review of my life in Texas. I suspect more interesting stories will develop as I begin teaching, but I hope it will be more than that.

To that end, I found this article in the Wisconsin State Journal about the history of the Arboretum and it's current challenges really interesting.

http://www.madison.com/wsj/topstories/299958

McAllen, II

I know, it's been over a week since my last post. I'm turning into Spearot. Really though, most anyone who reads this thing lives in Madison and they could enjoy the chicanery in real-time.

In the interest of maintaining a semblance of chronology, I want to finish up the trip to South Texas, but congrats to everyone who finally passed their prelims. Did we mention the hard part of graduate school starts now?

The purpose of the trip to McAllen was an on-going project studying Arundo donax. For those not familiar with this most fascinating of plants, it's like sugar cane, but bigger. Much bigger.

It can grow up to 30 feet high and sucks up a ridiculous amount of water. As far as I know, it can't be smoked. For agricultural regions like the Rio Grande Valley, water is a valuable resource and they want this bad mo-fu out. In it's defense, it grows so quickly that some think it will make an amazing bio-fuel.

Anyway, we started the day by driving out to a USDA lab on an old Air Force base. After getting past the dudes with guns (ok, they let us through after verifying our identity), we entered the lab.

First lesson learned: we need to spend less on war and bullshit anti-terrorism campaigns and much more on scientific research.

Our tour necessitated white lab coats and booties. I suppose this protects the labs from other organisms we might track it, but I can't be sure. Nevertheless, I learned loads about A. donax.

Second lesson learned: lunch is more interesting than most research.

Yes, lunch was had at the stockyard, where the cattle auctioned on Thursday mornings. It certainly had ambiance. And the sweetest middle-aged watiress:

Us: "What are the specials?"
Her (as fast as possible): "X, Y, Z. You ready to order now?"

Under duress, I turned to the reliable cheeseburger. This was roundly criticized and I was pushed into ordering my first chicken fried steak. They say everything is bigger in Texas. Since it appears some people live beyond 35, this so-called everything must include arteries. It definitely includes asses.

Deep fried death was followed by a meeting with another health economist at Texas-Pan American and then a stroll around Santa Ana National Wildlife Refuge. Santa Ana is really a remarkable birding ground, with species you just don't see anywhere else in the country, including this guy: Couch's Kingbird

I also saw a grooved-billed Ani and heard a bunch of other birds, but was mostly distracted by the swarming mosquitoes and deet-laced sweat pouring down my body. I eventually hacked my way back to the parking lot and we headed toward Nuevo Progresso, Mexico for dinner.

This was very exciting since it would be my first time in Mexico. Duck-butter or no duck-butter, that's a pretty big deal. In fact, I've been on 3 continents (North America, Europe, Africa) and this was the farthest south I had ever been. We parked before the bridge and then walked over the Rio Grande across the border.

It is obviously an area that caters to day-tripping American's and thus was similar to parts of Morocco I've seen. Cheeseburger was not on the menu so I again deferred to my colleagues. This resulted in frog legs and quail. The quail was tasty, but the frog legs were way too salty. Bananas Foster's flambeed table side more than made up for it, however.

Our short trip ended with a requisite stop at the duty-free liquor store. And since my driver's license still says Wisconsin, I was entitled to 4 times more booze.