Monday, September 27, 2004
Desperately seeking calamine lotion
I spent last weekend celebrating Yom Kippur and lesson planning, a dire combination if ever there were one. Somehow the holiest of holy days loses something of its appeal when it steals away the only truly free day one has during the week. Nonetheless, Saturday was by no means depressing, especially compared to the prior week which featured student impersonators, flying paper towel projectiles, and being referred to as a "funky-ass clown" during a test. I had the chance to visit some relatives, which is always fun.
My grandmother asked how the year had been proceeding. She claimed that I seemed much more mellow and asked if there were fewer classroom disruptions. Obviously, with twice as many students, the answer to that could only be no. So she asked me how I deal with it.
I told her that student disruptions are like mosquito bites. The best you can hope to do is ignore them, because if you scratch them, it only itches more.
The metaphor seemed worth recording, so here we are.
I spent last weekend celebrating Yom Kippur and lesson planning, a dire combination if ever there were one. Somehow the holiest of holy days loses something of its appeal when it steals away the only truly free day one has during the week. Nonetheless, Saturday was by no means depressing, especially compared to the prior week which featured student impersonators, flying paper towel projectiles, and being referred to as a "funky-ass clown" during a test. I had the chance to visit some relatives, which is always fun.
My grandmother asked how the year had been proceeding. She claimed that I seemed much more mellow and asked if there were fewer classroom disruptions. Obviously, with twice as many students, the answer to that could only be no. So she asked me how I deal with it.
I told her that student disruptions are like mosquito bites. The best you can hope to do is ignore them, because if you scratch them, it only itches more.
The metaphor seemed worth recording, so here we are.
Saturday, September 18, 2004
Never did no (cough) vandering...
So last week, the tenuous system of procedures and discipline I had struggled over the summer to construct collapsed on top of my head. Not completely. Things are going better than last year on the whole, especially with regard to my not taking student excuses seriously. On the other hand, there are always trouble classes and discipline issues...and this year is no exception. Most of my disciplinary issues come during my three hour deathblock after lunch. In point of fact, the class after lunch is arguably the worst of the lot due to the presence of a few young ladies who think they know better than the teacher about EVERYTHING and then cuss him out whenever he insists they have their homework out at the door. (One of these accused me of hitting her with a clipboard when I put the offending office tool between us to slightly muffle the sound of her yelling...made a phone call home, but I'm not looking forward to Monday.)
That class is also home to Calvin the choker. Calvin is one of those students who apparently had disciplinary problems when he was younger, but has a family caring and supportive enough to confront these issues and send him to a private school for a few years to sort things out. He's now returned to high school and, at least so far as my class is concerned, seems to take nothing seriously. He just wants to pass and get on with his life. And yet he doesn't do his homework. Or bring his school-provided binder. Or pay attention in class. And last week, he started having a coughing fit.
I don't know why.
My students always complain that my room smells. From armpits to kitty litter, the olfactory diversity of my class knows no bounds! But there was nothing particularly different about that day when Calvin started coughing out his left lung during the Do Now exercise for the day. I was foolish enough to actually care what was going on, and so I walked over to ask if he was ok. Without any real warning, he tells me to "get out of his face" and then runs out of the room. No permission. No pass. No nothing.
Fine with me. I lock the door and get back to work.
A few minutes later, a knock on the door. It's security with my choked up friend. Apparently he was caught wandering the halls without a pass. After a brief discussion with the guard, I let him in. A quick phone call to his house later that evening yielded positive results and a letter from the student himself asking for forgiveness. We'll see how long this good attitude lasts.
The same day I had another incident involving passes or the lack thereof when one of my students walked out of the room cussing after I told him he had to wait to use the hall pass. He comes back a few minutes later without a hall pass to get his notebook and backpack and I tell him that he should have taken it with him when he left the first time, because he isn't coming in now. Close the door, that should be the end.
It isn't.
A few minutes later, he's back, with a hall pass, but, strangely he won't let me see who signed it. I tell him until he gives me the pass and let's me see who signed it, he's not coming in.
He goes away...but only for a short while, because the end of the school day is drawing near and he really does want his stuff. So he concedes to show me the hall pass, comes in, and tries to leave. I make him stay in my room until the bell rings at the end of the day.
I take the hall pass upstairs to see the person who wrote it, a new math teacher. Apparently the student was supposed to be in her class. What's more, the name written on the pass is not the student's real name...he had assumed the identity of another of my students. And what was even better...the new teacher didn't know the student's real name, so now he's lost in the shuffle.
Just another wandering clown in a building full of chokers.
So last week, the tenuous system of procedures and discipline I had struggled over the summer to construct collapsed on top of my head. Not completely. Things are going better than last year on the whole, especially with regard to my not taking student excuses seriously. On the other hand, there are always trouble classes and discipline issues...and this year is no exception. Most of my disciplinary issues come during my three hour deathblock after lunch. In point of fact, the class after lunch is arguably the worst of the lot due to the presence of a few young ladies who think they know better than the teacher about EVERYTHING and then cuss him out whenever he insists they have their homework out at the door. (One of these accused me of hitting her with a clipboard when I put the offending office tool between us to slightly muffle the sound of her yelling...made a phone call home, but I'm not looking forward to Monday.)
That class is also home to Calvin the choker. Calvin is one of those students who apparently had disciplinary problems when he was younger, but has a family caring and supportive enough to confront these issues and send him to a private school for a few years to sort things out. He's now returned to high school and, at least so far as my class is concerned, seems to take nothing seriously. He just wants to pass and get on with his life. And yet he doesn't do his homework. Or bring his school-provided binder. Or pay attention in class. And last week, he started having a coughing fit.
I don't know why.
My students always complain that my room smells. From armpits to kitty litter, the olfactory diversity of my class knows no bounds! But there was nothing particularly different about that day when Calvin started coughing out his left lung during the Do Now exercise for the day. I was foolish enough to actually care what was going on, and so I walked over to ask if he was ok. Without any real warning, he tells me to "get out of his face" and then runs out of the room. No permission. No pass. No nothing.
Fine with me. I lock the door and get back to work.
A few minutes later, a knock on the door. It's security with my choked up friend. Apparently he was caught wandering the halls without a pass. After a brief discussion with the guard, I let him in. A quick phone call to his house later that evening yielded positive results and a letter from the student himself asking for forgiveness. We'll see how long this good attitude lasts.
The same day I had another incident involving passes or the lack thereof when one of my students walked out of the room cussing after I told him he had to wait to use the hall pass. He comes back a few minutes later without a hall pass to get his notebook and backpack and I tell him that he should have taken it with him when he left the first time, because he isn't coming in now. Close the door, that should be the end.
It isn't.
A few minutes later, he's back, with a hall pass, but, strangely he won't let me see who signed it. I tell him until he gives me the pass and let's me see who signed it, he's not coming in.
He goes away...but only for a short while, because the end of the school day is drawing near and he really does want his stuff. So he concedes to show me the hall pass, comes in, and tries to leave. I make him stay in my room until the bell rings at the end of the day.
I take the hall pass upstairs to see the person who wrote it, a new math teacher. Apparently the student was supposed to be in her class. What's more, the name written on the pass is not the student's real name...he had assumed the identity of another of my students. And what was even better...the new teacher didn't know the student's real name, so now he's lost in the shuffle.
Just another wandering clown in a building full of chokers.
Wednesday, September 15, 2004
Overheard in class yesterday...
"Hey Mr. ________," one of my students yelled out in class yesterday. "I know science. When you combine a proton and a neutron..."
About here my ears perked up. He seemed to be using the right vocabulary.
"When you combine a proton and a neutron, you get a voltron, right?"
*WHAM*
That sound was my jaw hitting the floor...in my mind. Of course, a voltron! That's what they named the robot after...
In reality, all I said was that we would have a lot to discuss when we got to electricity and magnetism.
"No man, we don't need to talk..." my student responded. "I know this!"
Clearly.
Tales of a myterious vandering student and Calvin the choker coming up later.
"Hey Mr. ________," one of my students yelled out in class yesterday. "I know science. When you combine a proton and a neutron..."
About here my ears perked up. He seemed to be using the right vocabulary.
"When you combine a proton and a neutron, you get a voltron, right?"
*WHAM*
That sound was my jaw hitting the floor...in my mind. Of course, a voltron! That's what they named the robot after...
In reality, all I said was that we would have a lot to discuss when we got to electricity and magnetism.
"No man, we don't need to talk..." my student responded. "I know this!"
Clearly.
Tales of a myterious vandering student and Calvin the choker coming up later.
Tuesday, September 14, 2004
The Rise and Fall of Diagnostic Friday
Traditionally, the first Friday of the semester is designated Diagnostic Friday. This is just one of many such special days that I plan for myself during the year along side such events as "Dry Ice Day", "Penny Lab Day", and "Don't Shoot Yourself In the Head...They're Only Children!" Day. By the end of the first week, I am generally pretty drained and the diagnostic fulfills the dual purpose of filling time and telling me what my students know. Between the low stress lesson and the fact that diagnostic Friday is generally payday, this usually leaves the first weekend relatively stress-free.
Oh, if only things were so easy this year.
This year, I decided to compile a new diagnostic based on content that was on grade level. Meaning that it was designed to be taken by 9th graders. Oh how naive I was to think it would work. The reason? My students may be in 9th grade...but they are not at a 9th grade level when it comes to science knowlege or general maturity. Consequently, I spent most of Friday telling students to be quiet and try their best , and seeing those requests ignored by students who realized that the diagnostic wouldn't hurt their grade. And how did they realize that? I TOLD THEM! Ah, stupid, stupid Invisible Ben. When will you learn never to tell students things like that?
So Diagnostic Friday ended up leaving a bad taste in my mouth. 5 hours of students cussing, talking loudly, and disrespecting you can do that.
Yesterday therefore started a new tradition: Rediagnostic Monday. I used a diagnostic from last year, designed for a 5th grade level. I haven't run the stats yet, but it looks like 60% proficiency is about average.
Looks like I'll have a lot of work to do before the year is up.
Traditionally, the first Friday of the semester is designated Diagnostic Friday. This is just one of many such special days that I plan for myself during the year along side such events as "Dry Ice Day", "Penny Lab Day", and "Don't Shoot Yourself In the Head...They're Only Children!" Day. By the end of the first week, I am generally pretty drained and the diagnostic fulfills the dual purpose of filling time and telling me what my students know. Between the low stress lesson and the fact that diagnostic Friday is generally payday, this usually leaves the first weekend relatively stress-free.
Oh, if only things were so easy this year.
This year, I decided to compile a new diagnostic based on content that was on grade level. Meaning that it was designed to be taken by 9th graders. Oh how naive I was to think it would work. The reason? My students may be in 9th grade...but they are not at a 9th grade level when it comes to science knowlege or general maturity. Consequently, I spent most of Friday telling students to be quiet and try their best , and seeing those requests ignored by students who realized that the diagnostic wouldn't hurt their grade. And how did they realize that? I TOLD THEM! Ah, stupid, stupid Invisible Ben. When will you learn never to tell students things like that?
So Diagnostic Friday ended up leaving a bad taste in my mouth. 5 hours of students cussing, talking loudly, and disrespecting you can do that.
Yesterday therefore started a new tradition: Rediagnostic Monday. I used a diagnostic from last year, designed for a 5th grade level. I haven't run the stats yet, but it looks like 60% proficiency is about average.
Looks like I'll have a lot of work to do before the year is up.
Sunday, September 12, 2004
99th percentile humor
At a friend's dinner party yesterday, I was described as having "99th percentile humor" meaning, I suppose, that my jokes will generally be considered terrible except among the relatively small group of people who get my references.
Want to see if you're in that elite group?
If you think this is funny: "Hey Khafre...got your nose!", you might just like my sense of humor.
Or you might just be wicked drunk...
At a friend's dinner party yesterday, I was described as having "99th percentile humor" meaning, I suppose, that my jokes will generally be considered terrible except among the relatively small group of people who get my references.
Want to see if you're in that elite group?
If you think this is funny: "Hey Khafre...got your nose!", you might just like my sense of humor.
Or you might just be wicked drunk...
Saturday, September 11, 2004
Feeling Committed
The hallways at Underwood High School have a quiet dignity to them during the summer. One walks around the corridors, hearing nothing but the sound of one's footsteps and the distant sound of the building's antique woodwork expanding and contracting. In these moments, whose echoes can be found in the early minutes of the school day (before 7:15 AM), it appears a place worthy of its legacy of famous alumni and academic excellence. Then the school day starts, and the whole atmosphere shifts.
Yep, the school year has started again, and in contrast to some of my fellow teachers, the whole affair left a sour taste in my mouth. This is the year it seems of well intended reforms having unexpected and unfortunate results, both on my part and the district's.
Some examples:
Let's give teachers a new core curriculum...
And then forget to obtain enough science textbooks for every student to use for homework.
Oh, and let's not include sections on things like the metric system. Scientists hardly use that these days anyway.
Let's cut down on student boredom by implementing a standard schedule...
But continue to assume that students will actually travel from class to class in a timely fashion. After all, more transitions will make students more likely to learn!
Let's implement a uniform dress code...
But then run out of school shirts for students to wear during the first week.
And on and on and on...
I'll be honest. I prefer my old schedule in many ways. Having students for 60 minutes rather than 90 is nice. No doubt about that...but unlike last year, there are no "do-overs". This time, I don't switch halfway through the year...I'm stuck with them. So that means more cracking down on rules and procedures in the early days to establish control. Also, last year, I had a very nice lunch/prep schedule allowing for a healthy 90 minute sized block in the middle of the day instead of a frustratingly short 60 minute prep after first period and a half hour lunch which segues into a three period deathwatch at the end of the day.
To clarify, my schedule now is as follows:
1. Class/Advisory
2. Prep.
3. Class
4. Lunch
5. Class
6. Class
7. Class
By the end of that last class, I'm generally so tired and dehydrated that it's hard to talk or even move. And you know that the worst classes come near to the end of the day. It's just an unwritten rule.
Up sides to this year?
Well...at least my lesson planning is easier with a core curriculum. They really do tell you what to say and how to say it. And I think I should be able to supplement it pretty well with my own already proven stuff from last year. (Rest assured kids, the dry ice and liquid nitrogen WILL be back!) And I'll be honest, despite the stifling frustration I feel in my last three classes, therea re good kids in every one who have the potential to be great science students.
Oh, and I've been eating better than last year too. Which is a big plus.
Speaking of which, time for supper...ciao.
(More on the first week later...)
The hallways at Underwood High School have a quiet dignity to them during the summer. One walks around the corridors, hearing nothing but the sound of one's footsteps and the distant sound of the building's antique woodwork expanding and contracting. In these moments, whose echoes can be found in the early minutes of the school day (before 7:15 AM), it appears a place worthy of its legacy of famous alumni and academic excellence. Then the school day starts, and the whole atmosphere shifts.
Yep, the school year has started again, and in contrast to some of my fellow teachers, the whole affair left a sour taste in my mouth. This is the year it seems of well intended reforms having unexpected and unfortunate results, both on my part and the district's.
Some examples:
Let's give teachers a new core curriculum...
And then forget to obtain enough science textbooks for every student to use for homework.
Oh, and let's not include sections on things like the metric system. Scientists hardly use that these days anyway.
Let's cut down on student boredom by implementing a standard schedule...
But continue to assume that students will actually travel from class to class in a timely fashion. After all, more transitions will make students more likely to learn!
Let's implement a uniform dress code...
But then run out of school shirts for students to wear during the first week.
And on and on and on...
I'll be honest. I prefer my old schedule in many ways. Having students for 60 minutes rather than 90 is nice. No doubt about that...but unlike last year, there are no "do-overs". This time, I don't switch halfway through the year...I'm stuck with them. So that means more cracking down on rules and procedures in the early days to establish control. Also, last year, I had a very nice lunch/prep schedule allowing for a healthy 90 minute sized block in the middle of the day instead of a frustratingly short 60 minute prep after first period and a half hour lunch which segues into a three period deathwatch at the end of the day.
To clarify, my schedule now is as follows:
1. Class/Advisory
2. Prep.
3. Class
4. Lunch
5. Class
6. Class
7. Class
By the end of that last class, I'm generally so tired and dehydrated that it's hard to talk or even move. And you know that the worst classes come near to the end of the day. It's just an unwritten rule.
Up sides to this year?
Well...at least my lesson planning is easier with a core curriculum. They really do tell you what to say and how to say it. And I think I should be able to supplement it pretty well with my own already proven stuff from last year. (Rest assured kids, the dry ice and liquid nitrogen WILL be back!) And I'll be honest, despite the stifling frustration I feel in my last three classes, therea re good kids in every one who have the potential to be great science students.
Oh, and I've been eating better than last year too. Which is a big plus.
Speaking of which, time for supper...ciao.
(More on the first week later...)
Monday, September 06, 2004
The kindest, bravest, warmest, most wonderful movie review I've ever written...
So last night I held a screening at my place of one of my favorite movies, The Manchurian Candidate. That's right, the original John Frankenheimer classic with Frank Sinatra, Angela Lansbury, and Janet Leigh. It was intended to be a get-together for some friends, but apparently no one was interested, so it was just me watching this great movie and thinking about all the little details that I had never noticed before: the titles of books lying around Cpt. Marco's (Sinatra) apartment, the weird dialogue between Marco and Eugenie/Rosie (Leigh) on the train, the heavyhanded use of Lincoln imagery to foreshadow the film's finale, that sort of thing.
After watching the film, I suddenly wondered about parallels and changes in the film's recently released remake. Although I had sworn to myself that I would not put one dollar into Hollywood's pocket by watching some modernized update of an already classic film, it was a Friday night, I was bored, and watching both in one evening would at least lend an interesting perspective.
A warning here that there are slight spoilers from this point on, so if you don't want to know, maybe you should go do something else. (Read a book or something...)
The new Manchurian Candidate begins like the original, with a scene showing the members of a military unit relaxing near the front. In the original, it was in a brothel/bar, in the new one, it's a poker game inside the confines of a tank. (Amazing how many soldiers can fit inside one piece of armor, there must have been about 8 people in the game.) In both cases, the revelry is interrupted by Sgt. Raymond Shaw. Sgt. Shaw in the original movie is a stuck up, arrogant misanthropist who declares himself to be eminently unlovable. In this new version, he's not a stuck-up prick so much as a shy loner with poor social skills. In both versions, he is disliked by the rest of the group, which is forced to go on a mission into enemy territory along a route that everyone acknowledges is a dangerous one likely to be attacked.
And around here things start to differ.
We flash to the present day and rather than establishing Shaw’s relationship with his family, cue instead to Ben Marco (played by Denzel Washington) who is giving a talk on the Congressional Medal of Honor to a Boy Scout Troop. Everything seems fine until another member of the platoon confronts him and asks if he’s been having bad dreams. Marco says no, but we learn later this may not be the case. Not that his dreams are in any way memorable or interesting. They reminded me of Wolverine’s dreams in the X-Men movies. Full of implied terror and scary noises, but ultimately unmemorable. Remember, the greatness of the garden party dream scenes in the original? Well, those are gone.
Anyhow, through Marco we learn a little more about Shaw, who instead of being eminently unlikable is in point of fact very popular with the public. He’s a representative in Congress no less, the latest in a proud political dynasty which also includes his mother, Sen. Eleanor Shaw (played by Meryl Streep.) So Sen. Iselin and all the political humor he entailed in the original...that’s gone. Instead Sgt. Shaw is aiming for the White House (or at least the Naval Observatory) as Vice President.
Marco’s bad dreams again prompt him to seek out help from his bosses (who think he’s nuts), Sgt. Shaw (ditto), and from the mysterious Eugenie who we first see selling Shaw instant soup mix and apparently stalks him onto a train and into New York City. (In one of a handful of throwaway references, Eugenie gives Marco the same phone number as in the original, complete with the El Dorado prefix.) Marco crashes at Eugenie’s and checks in with a nameless Albanian friend...I kid you not...to see what would explain his nightmares. And the answer?
Tracking bug under the skin...of course!
So, after digging it out with a knife and losing it down the drain, Marco goes to chat with Shaw about their confusion, and bite him on the neck to retrieve Shaw’s implant. Now everyone thinks he’s crazy, especially the audience! But no, there it is, large as life and twice as natural...proof that Marco and Shaw are part of a conspiracy run by the (wait for it) Manchurian Global Corporation, whose minions looks surprisingly like holograms from the future that only Scott Bakula can see. And thanks to that zany Albanian fellow I mentioned earlier, we can restart Marco’s brain so that he can remember what happened to him.
Ok, so neither the original or the new one is meant to be scientifically accurate, but things like this just seemed like a stretch to me. Especially when they took out one of the film’s classic images, the queen of diamonds, which as far as I can tell is nowhere to be seen unless you count some of the doodles based on Marco’s dreams.
Of course, the film still has its twists, as it is revealed that Raymond isn’t the only one who is conditioned and oh yes, just as Ebert suspected, there is more to Rosie than meets the eye. And Denzel and Meryl do their best to live up to the original, but Jon Voight is wasted as Senator Jordan and Liev Schrieber is a Raymond Shaw who alternates between overly sympathetic and overly cruel...no nuance at all to his character.
Long story short: See the original. Rent the new one when it comes out on video...or better yet, borrow it from a library. No more money needs to be spent on remakes like this.
So last night I held a screening at my place of one of my favorite movies, The Manchurian Candidate. That's right, the original John Frankenheimer classic with Frank Sinatra, Angela Lansbury, and Janet Leigh. It was intended to be a get-together for some friends, but apparently no one was interested, so it was just me watching this great movie and thinking about all the little details that I had never noticed before: the titles of books lying around Cpt. Marco's (Sinatra) apartment, the weird dialogue between Marco and Eugenie/Rosie (Leigh) on the train, the heavyhanded use of Lincoln imagery to foreshadow the film's finale, that sort of thing.
After watching the film, I suddenly wondered about parallels and changes in the film's recently released remake. Although I had sworn to myself that I would not put one dollar into Hollywood's pocket by watching some modernized update of an already classic film, it was a Friday night, I was bored, and watching both in one evening would at least lend an interesting perspective.
A warning here that there are slight spoilers from this point on, so if you don't want to know, maybe you should go do something else. (Read a book or something...)
The new Manchurian Candidate begins like the original, with a scene showing the members of a military unit relaxing near the front. In the original, it was in a brothel/bar, in the new one, it's a poker game inside the confines of a tank. (Amazing how many soldiers can fit inside one piece of armor, there must have been about 8 people in the game.) In both cases, the revelry is interrupted by Sgt. Raymond Shaw. Sgt. Shaw in the original movie is a stuck up, arrogant misanthropist who declares himself to be eminently unlovable. In this new version, he's not a stuck-up prick so much as a shy loner with poor social skills. In both versions, he is disliked by the rest of the group, which is forced to go on a mission into enemy territory along a route that everyone acknowledges is a dangerous one likely to be attacked.
And around here things start to differ.
We flash to the present day and rather than establishing Shaw’s relationship with his family, cue instead to Ben Marco (played by Denzel Washington) who is giving a talk on the Congressional Medal of Honor to a Boy Scout Troop. Everything seems fine until another member of the platoon confronts him and asks if he’s been having bad dreams. Marco says no, but we learn later this may not be the case. Not that his dreams are in any way memorable or interesting. They reminded me of Wolverine’s dreams in the X-Men movies. Full of implied terror and scary noises, but ultimately unmemorable. Remember, the greatness of the garden party dream scenes in the original? Well, those are gone.
Anyhow, through Marco we learn a little more about Shaw, who instead of being eminently unlikable is in point of fact very popular with the public. He’s a representative in Congress no less, the latest in a proud political dynasty which also includes his mother, Sen. Eleanor Shaw (played by Meryl Streep.) So Sen. Iselin and all the political humor he entailed in the original...that’s gone. Instead Sgt. Shaw is aiming for the White House (or at least the Naval Observatory) as Vice President.
Marco’s bad dreams again prompt him to seek out help from his bosses (who think he’s nuts), Sgt. Shaw (ditto), and from the mysterious Eugenie who we first see selling Shaw instant soup mix and apparently stalks him onto a train and into New York City. (In one of a handful of throwaway references, Eugenie gives Marco the same phone number as in the original, complete with the El Dorado prefix.) Marco crashes at Eugenie’s and checks in with a nameless Albanian friend...I kid you not...to see what would explain his nightmares. And the answer?
Tracking bug under the skin...of course!
So, after digging it out with a knife and losing it down the drain, Marco goes to chat with Shaw about their confusion, and bite him on the neck to retrieve Shaw’s implant. Now everyone thinks he’s crazy, especially the audience! But no, there it is, large as life and twice as natural...proof that Marco and Shaw are part of a conspiracy run by the (wait for it) Manchurian Global Corporation, whose minions looks surprisingly like holograms from the future that only Scott Bakula can see. And thanks to that zany Albanian fellow I mentioned earlier, we can restart Marco’s brain so that he can remember what happened to him.
Ok, so neither the original or the new one is meant to be scientifically accurate, but things like this just seemed like a stretch to me. Especially when they took out one of the film’s classic images, the queen of diamonds, which as far as I can tell is nowhere to be seen unless you count some of the doodles based on Marco’s dreams.
Of course, the film still has its twists, as it is revealed that Raymond isn’t the only one who is conditioned and oh yes, just as Ebert suspected, there is more to Rosie than meets the eye. And Denzel and Meryl do their best to live up to the original, but Jon Voight is wasted as Senator Jordan and Liev Schrieber is a Raymond Shaw who alternates between overly sympathetic and overly cruel...no nuance at all to his character.
Long story short: See the original. Rent the new one when it comes out on video...or better yet, borrow it from a library. No more money needs to be spent on remakes like this.
Wednesday, September 01, 2004
Nothing to Fear
So today the school year begins. As I type these words, I am looking out my window. The rosy glow of twilight is just settling across the city skyline. In my old apartment, I did not have an eastern view, so I could never really gauge how bright it actually is around 6 in the morning a few weeks before the official start of autumn. If this post seems to verge on the sentimental, I apologize in advance. I slept fitfully last night, waking up around half a dozen times between turning off the Republican national convention coverage and waking up to the BBC. (Ah, British news coverage, how much I've missed ye!)
Now I'm here sitting at the computer, finishing a boal of wheaties and listening to Billy Joel sing "Say Goodbye to Hollywood." Technically, these next few days should not be particularly stressful as there will be no students in the building. Nonetheless, my stomach has tied itself into several very convincing knots over the past few days. Although I now know my schedule will consist of 5 general physical science classes (all ninth grade), i still have yet to receive the long-promised core curriculum beyond a scope and sequence informing me that in addition to chemistry and physics, I will need to teach earth science and astronomy. In addition, all of my lesson plans from last year will need to be adapted from the 1.5 hr. to 1 hr. period. And part in parcel with that is the knowledge that if I screw up early in the year there will be no mid-year respite with a switch in classes. Oh no. I'm stuck with my students the whole year through...or they're stuck with me, depending on whether I'm feeling terrified or vengeful.
Yup, the end is nigh. Nigh, I tells ya. One has to wonder whether having summer off only makes you miss it more when you go back to school. It also may make the three regular readers of this blog wonder if I will continue with the more happy-go-lucky/whimsical postings that characterized the past few weeks. My hope is yes. I have at least one more on the backburner, a long delayed review of The Manchurian Candidate. Here's hoping I get that up by the end of the week.
Until then, keep fighting the good fight. I know I'll be trying.
So today the school year begins. As I type these words, I am looking out my window. The rosy glow of twilight is just settling across the city skyline. In my old apartment, I did not have an eastern view, so I could never really gauge how bright it actually is around 6 in the morning a few weeks before the official start of autumn. If this post seems to verge on the sentimental, I apologize in advance. I slept fitfully last night, waking up around half a dozen times between turning off the Republican national convention coverage and waking up to the BBC. (Ah, British news coverage, how much I've missed ye!)
Now I'm here sitting at the computer, finishing a boal of wheaties and listening to Billy Joel sing "Say Goodbye to Hollywood." Technically, these next few days should not be particularly stressful as there will be no students in the building. Nonetheless, my stomach has tied itself into several very convincing knots over the past few days. Although I now know my schedule will consist of 5 general physical science classes (all ninth grade), i still have yet to receive the long-promised core curriculum beyond a scope and sequence informing me that in addition to chemistry and physics, I will need to teach earth science and astronomy. In addition, all of my lesson plans from last year will need to be adapted from the 1.5 hr. to 1 hr. period. And part in parcel with that is the knowledge that if I screw up early in the year there will be no mid-year respite with a switch in classes. Oh no. I'm stuck with my students the whole year through...or they're stuck with me, depending on whether I'm feeling terrified or vengeful.
Yup, the end is nigh. Nigh, I tells ya. One has to wonder whether having summer off only makes you miss it more when you go back to school. It also may make the three regular readers of this blog wonder if I will continue with the more happy-go-lucky/whimsical postings that characterized the past few weeks. My hope is yes. I have at least one more on the backburner, a long delayed review of The Manchurian Candidate. Here's hoping I get that up by the end of the week.
Until then, keep fighting the good fight. I know I'll be trying.
