Sunday, September 24, 2006
How to Eat a Chocolate (A Simple 6 Step Method That YOU Can Try!)
This weekend, for those of you who forgot to check your lunar calendars, marked the beginning of the High Holy Days, the first ones since I stopped working in a public school system. Not that it mattered in this case, given that Rosh Hashanah started on Friday night. To celebrate the occasion, I traveled to my aunt's house for holiday dinner with the family. After a meal filled with fun-filled banter, occasional mathematical puzzles, and discussions of schools past (Underwood), present (Old Ivy), and future (my cousin is writing applicaion essays this fall), my grandparents presented each of the grandchildren present with a small gift...a box of chocolates.
Now, some folks will tell you that life is something like a box of chocolates, but that ain't so. At least, not the chocolates in this box. At least, my life didn't come with such a detailed set of instructions on the back of it. Consider the following steps that the manufacturer suggests will allow you to fully appreciate the deliciousness of this particular brand of confection.
Each Dark Square has an inner essence to be captured during any time of the day or the night. Take a moment away from meals, smoke, and other beverage or food. You will then be able to appreciate what we have prepared for you. These are the simple rules for a correct dark chocolate tasting:
1) Warm up the chocolate in your hand without unwrapping it; a cold chocolate cannot express itself.
2) Unwrap the chocolate and observe it carefully: it must have no spots or imperfections and its color must be all alike. With it's [sic.] shininess it is a pleasure for the eyes as well.
3) Hold it between your fingers and smell it; its intense fragrance is the second gift your senses will enjoy.
4) The ritual wants that you keep the square at the center of the tongue, intact, while encountering the palate until it melts, slowly.
5) The chocolate becomes supple, while the wide variety of flavors expands itself. In silence the sensations will redouble themselves: you will savor the strength first, then the variations, finally the persistent aftertaste.
6) Now that it's almost all gone, you will be able to tell what a real pleasure it all was.
At this point you can start over again. Enjoy it!
While I appreciate the level of detail, I'm not sure I have the patience to expand my current 2 step chocolate eating method (Step 1: Unwrap the chocolate. Step 2: Eat the chocolate.) by a factor of three. Especially not for a box of 48 single origin dark chocolates from Madagascar, Ecuador, and the Dominican Republic. Don't ask me how I'll know the nation of origin for each chocolate...I don't think they're labelled, and strangely, despite all of the other details included on the box, no additional instructions are provided.
But perhaps that's for the best. One would hate to overcomplicate one of life's simple pleasures.
This weekend, for those of you who forgot to check your lunar calendars, marked the beginning of the High Holy Days, the first ones since I stopped working in a public school system. Not that it mattered in this case, given that Rosh Hashanah started on Friday night. To celebrate the occasion, I traveled to my aunt's house for holiday dinner with the family. After a meal filled with fun-filled banter, occasional mathematical puzzles, and discussions of schools past (Underwood), present (Old Ivy), and future (my cousin is writing applicaion essays this fall), my grandparents presented each of the grandchildren present with a small gift...a box of chocolates.
Now, some folks will tell you that life is something like a box of chocolates, but that ain't so. At least, not the chocolates in this box. At least, my life didn't come with such a detailed set of instructions on the back of it. Consider the following steps that the manufacturer suggests will allow you to fully appreciate the deliciousness of this particular brand of confection.
Each Dark Square has an inner essence to be captured during any time of the day or the night. Take a moment away from meals, smoke, and other beverage or food. You will then be able to appreciate what we have prepared for you. These are the simple rules for a correct dark chocolate tasting:
1) Warm up the chocolate in your hand without unwrapping it; a cold chocolate cannot express itself.
2) Unwrap the chocolate and observe it carefully: it must have no spots or imperfections and its color must be all alike. With it's [sic.] shininess it is a pleasure for the eyes as well.
3) Hold it between your fingers and smell it; its intense fragrance is the second gift your senses will enjoy.
4) The ritual wants that you keep the square at the center of the tongue, intact, while encountering the palate until it melts, slowly.
5) The chocolate becomes supple, while the wide variety of flavors expands itself. In silence the sensations will redouble themselves: you will savor the strength first, then the variations, finally the persistent aftertaste.
6) Now that it's almost all gone, you will be able to tell what a real pleasure it all was.
At this point you can start over again. Enjoy it!
While I appreciate the level of detail, I'm not sure I have the patience to expand my current 2 step chocolate eating method (Step 1: Unwrap the chocolate. Step 2: Eat the chocolate.) by a factor of three. Especially not for a box of 48 single origin dark chocolates from Madagascar, Ecuador, and the Dominican Republic. Don't ask me how I'll know the nation of origin for each chocolate...I don't think they're labelled, and strangely, despite all of the other details included on the box, no additional instructions are provided.
But perhaps that's for the best. One would hate to overcomplicate one of life's simple pleasures.
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
Opening Week Highlights
As of today I have now attended all 3 of the classes I plan to take during my first semester of graduate school. Here are the quick highlights for those keeping track at home.
Course #1: Intro. to the Professional Study of History
Take all the first year history grad students in the school. Find a table large enough for them all to sit at, making sure to account for the two (2!) professors teaching the course. This week we discussed the relative merits of Herodotus and Thucydides, with yours truly trying his best to vouch for the latter despite his confessed tendency to make up speeches. Beyond the actual material however, the most interesting part of this week's class was the way in which all of us were able to participate in the discussion. The professors devised a system whereby people who wish to express an opinion or ask a question raise their hand to be added to a list of commenters. The people on the list then get a chance to make their points in order, moving one by one down the list. However, one can interrupt the list's progress however by raising both hands simultaneously, the idea being to make one feel uncomfortable so as to inhibit that particular course of action. As might be expected, the plan was a bit of a flop. These are grad students after all and they don't mind looking silly for the sake of hearing themselves talk. That sounds a bit harsh I know, but some people abused the privilege such that by the end almost everyone took it upon themselves to respond directly to other people's comments through the double hand raise rather than wait for their turn on the list. Still, the class was interesting and they'll provide us with lunch every week, which is a rather unexpected, but definitely appreicated bonus.
Course #2: The History of Science from the Enlightenment Until Present Day
Originally, I was not going to take this course. I was going to take another course with the same name. That course however would be more philosophical in bent with readings from philosophers, pundits, and other secondary commentators rather than actual primary source material. So on a whim, last Thursday I decided to attend the first lecture of the undergrad lecture course on the subject in hopes of potentially auditing it. After a thoroughly enjoyable lecture on Newton, Leibniz, and good olde natural philosophy, the professor came over and asked, much to my surprise, if I had e-mailed him about attending the class on a more permanent basis. I had not, but a fellow grad student had, asking if he could take the class , perhaps with a slightly supplemented reading list, and earn graduate credit for it. The professor was open to the idea and, knowing a good thing when I saw it, I asked if I could participate as well. And so far, I believe I've made the right decision. The reading list is outstanding, with texts ranging from Leibniz to Watson and Crick with brief stops at Freud, Darwin, and Einstein along the way. And what do you know? I got a brief mention in lecture today as the only person who had ever heard of Ebenezer Kinnersley prior to attending the class. It almost makes me wish I had read the book I found at the public library sale: Ebenezer Kinnersley: Franklin's Friend. The good news is that the book is available at the university library, so I can pick it up later should I find time.
Course #3: Material Epistemology
This is a strange course, whose erudite sounding title might dissuade the faint of heart from participating, much to their loss. The fundamental idea of the class is that material objects, specifically scientific equipment and instruments contain implicit knowledge value, whether they be models, devices intended to demonstrate an effect, or otherwise. In other words, to study the history of technology, you need to actually look at how it was constructed, how it was used, and so forth. During the course of the semester we will be considering the history and evolution of scientific devices in an attempt to understand how they reflect and supplement creators' ability to approach the task of scientific inquiry. The professor is an expert on the history of technology and hooked us all into the subject right away with an outstanding hands-on activity...the sort of thing I wish I could have done with my students when I was teaching. The professor distributed a handful of identical looking arcane mechanical devices and asked us to deduce simply from its appearance what they were. He even encouraged us to take them apart, little knowing that one person (you can guess who) would have an issue putting it back together again. After about fifteen minutes, he gave us a clue...a propellor...and then it suddenly became very clear. It was a model airplane engine, which apparently is not the sort of thing that's easy to find anymore. Considering that I had flown a plane using just such an engine when I was in middle school, I was astounded I didn't recognize it...and a touch embarassed that I was not the first to realize it was an engine. Still, it was definitely a worthwhile intellectual exercise and foreshadowed an equally interesting class discussion covering everything from 17th century telescopes to the supposed benefits of using Linux vs. Windows. And hey, I even got to bring in an experience from Underwood into the mix! All in all, pretty cool stuff.
So the overall verdict after one week is : so far, so good. My professors are brilliant, my classmates are friendly, and the coursework is relatively interesting even if I never plan to consider the political discourse voiced by Tanzanian intellectuals beyond this semester. (Yes, that was from an actual reading for Course #1...it wasn't that bad. Really!) In fact, assuming I can keep up with the reading and the papers, I may just be able to handle this whole graduate school thing after all.
As of today I have now attended all 3 of the classes I plan to take during my first semester of graduate school. Here are the quick highlights for those keeping track at home.
Course #1: Intro. to the Professional Study of History
Take all the first year history grad students in the school. Find a table large enough for them all to sit at, making sure to account for the two (2!) professors teaching the course. This week we discussed the relative merits of Herodotus and Thucydides, with yours truly trying his best to vouch for the latter despite his confessed tendency to make up speeches. Beyond the actual material however, the most interesting part of this week's class was the way in which all of us were able to participate in the discussion. The professors devised a system whereby people who wish to express an opinion or ask a question raise their hand to be added to a list of commenters. The people on the list then get a chance to make their points in order, moving one by one down the list. However, one can interrupt the list's progress however by raising both hands simultaneously, the idea being to make one feel uncomfortable so as to inhibit that particular course of action. As might be expected, the plan was a bit of a flop. These are grad students after all and they don't mind looking silly for the sake of hearing themselves talk. That sounds a bit harsh I know, but some people abused the privilege such that by the end almost everyone took it upon themselves to respond directly to other people's comments through the double hand raise rather than wait for their turn on the list. Still, the class was interesting and they'll provide us with lunch every week, which is a rather unexpected, but definitely appreicated bonus.
Course #2: The History of Science from the Enlightenment Until Present Day
Originally, I was not going to take this course. I was going to take another course with the same name. That course however would be more philosophical in bent with readings from philosophers, pundits, and other secondary commentators rather than actual primary source material. So on a whim, last Thursday I decided to attend the first lecture of the undergrad lecture course on the subject in hopes of potentially auditing it. After a thoroughly enjoyable lecture on Newton, Leibniz, and good olde natural philosophy, the professor came over and asked, much to my surprise, if I had e-mailed him about attending the class on a more permanent basis. I had not, but a fellow grad student had, asking if he could take the class , perhaps with a slightly supplemented reading list, and earn graduate credit for it. The professor was open to the idea and, knowing a good thing when I saw it, I asked if I could participate as well. And so far, I believe I've made the right decision. The reading list is outstanding, with texts ranging from Leibniz to Watson and Crick with brief stops at Freud, Darwin, and Einstein along the way. And what do you know? I got a brief mention in lecture today as the only person who had ever heard of Ebenezer Kinnersley prior to attending the class. It almost makes me wish I had read the book I found at the public library sale: Ebenezer Kinnersley: Franklin's Friend. The good news is that the book is available at the university library, so I can pick it up later should I find time.
Course #3: Material Epistemology
This is a strange course, whose erudite sounding title might dissuade the faint of heart from participating, much to their loss. The fundamental idea of the class is that material objects, specifically scientific equipment and instruments contain implicit knowledge value, whether they be models, devices intended to demonstrate an effect, or otherwise. In other words, to study the history of technology, you need to actually look at how it was constructed, how it was used, and so forth. During the course of the semester we will be considering the history and evolution of scientific devices in an attempt to understand how they reflect and supplement creators' ability to approach the task of scientific inquiry. The professor is an expert on the history of technology and hooked us all into the subject right away with an outstanding hands-on activity...the sort of thing I wish I could have done with my students when I was teaching. The professor distributed a handful of identical looking arcane mechanical devices and asked us to deduce simply from its appearance what they were. He even encouraged us to take them apart, little knowing that one person (you can guess who) would have an issue putting it back together again. After about fifteen minutes, he gave us a clue...a propellor...and then it suddenly became very clear. It was a model airplane engine, which apparently is not the sort of thing that's easy to find anymore. Considering that I had flown a plane using just such an engine when I was in middle school, I was astounded I didn't recognize it...and a touch embarassed that I was not the first to realize it was an engine. Still, it was definitely a worthwhile intellectual exercise and foreshadowed an equally interesting class discussion covering everything from 17th century telescopes to the supposed benefits of using Linux vs. Windows. And hey, I even got to bring in an experience from Underwood into the mix! All in all, pretty cool stuff.
So the overall verdict after one week is : so far, so good. My professors are brilliant, my classmates are friendly, and the coursework is relatively interesting even if I never plan to consider the political discourse voiced by Tanzanian intellectuals beyond this semester. (Yes, that was from an actual reading for Course #1...it wasn't that bad. Really!) In fact, assuming I can keep up with the reading and the papers, I may just be able to handle this whole graduate school thing after all.
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
An Impostor in the Shire?
Today was New Graduate Student Orientation Day at Old Ivy University which meant for the first time since September I had an actual "work-related" event to attend. So after rousing myself at 8:30 and showering during what would have been first period at Underwood, I slouched over towards one of the larger auditoriums on campus to get officially oriented to the world in which I now live.
After a short brunch, the graduate student community filed into their seats. Apparently, it takes a staggeringly large number of people to keep the ivory tower running smoothly, and the heads of every branch of that hierarchy were arrayed on stage when we arrived. What's more, they all wanted to share with us their personal wisdom on how best to navigate graduate student life. The dean of the graduate school started off with statistics...the usual stuff about how many people got in (1127), how many applied (8600), how many actually decided to enroll after getting in (580) and so forth. He pointed out the diversity of the student body (40% from other countries!) and wished us luck as we embarked on this new phase in our educational careers. It was precisely what was expected, but at least it was quick and to the point.
The head of graduate admissions then followed, and in a slightly longer speech gave the following 5 hints to success as a graduate student:
The remainder of the administrative speeches were eminently unmemorable. The deans of student life and budget affairs got up and spoke, but don't ask me for specific details regarding content...my eyes glazed over halfway through the former's speech and I started browsing through the packet of papers they gave us upon entering the building. The student health plan's staff showed up to answer medical questions and advertise their nice large psychiatric wing. (Room for one more...)
The only other thing of note from the entire assembly was the chair of graduate student government's speech comparing graduate school to the Lord of the Rings. It was a rather overextended metaphor, but an apt one nonetheless. Apparently right now, I'm living in "The Shire", a tranquil place filled with friendly faces and very little peril. But soon enough, I will be confronted with "orcs" and "goblins" and "research papers" that will hinder my travels. Occasionally I will make new allies and meet strange creatures like Nobel laureates (met one later that day!) who will help inspire me as I move towards my ultimate goal...Mt. Doom? Is getting a Ph.D. the equivalent of setting up shop in the evil realm of Mordor? Is it likely to be filled with pain and despiar and sorrow and trolls? Will it all be worthwhile in the end? I'm not sure if the metaphor works perfectly, but it captured somewhat the exotic and strange nature of the journey I'm about to be taking, and I feel I'll look back on it in coming years and wonder how far along I've come in my journey.
Is finishing general exams the equivalent of surviving a siege? How far away will my travels take me? And am I even worthy to carry this burden after all?
The only way to know for sure is to set off on the journey. Classes start soon. More tales will surely follow.
Today was New Graduate Student Orientation Day at Old Ivy University which meant for the first time since September I had an actual "work-related" event to attend. So after rousing myself at 8:30 and showering during what would have been first period at Underwood, I slouched over towards one of the larger auditoriums on campus to get officially oriented to the world in which I now live.
After a short brunch, the graduate student community filed into their seats. Apparently, it takes a staggeringly large number of people to keep the ivory tower running smoothly, and the heads of every branch of that hierarchy were arrayed on stage when we arrived. What's more, they all wanted to share with us their personal wisdom on how best to navigate graduate student life. The dean of the graduate school started off with statistics...the usual stuff about how many people got in (1127), how many applied (8600), how many actually decided to enroll after getting in (580) and so forth. He pointed out the diversity of the student body (40% from other countries!) and wished us luck as we embarked on this new phase in our educational careers. It was precisely what was expected, but at least it was quick and to the point.
The head of graduate admissions then followed, and in a slightly longer speech gave the following 5 hints to success as a graduate student:
- 1. Learn all the requirements of the program. Common sense, but still worthwhile advice.
- 2. Avoid "impostor syndrome." I'll get back to this one in a moment.
- 3. Plan strategically. This one sort of works with #1.
- 4. Find allies and advocates. The secret to every academic success story...NETWORKING!
- 5. Enjoy! Well...ok, then. That beats my original plan of hating my life and everything connected with it.
The remainder of the administrative speeches were eminently unmemorable. The deans of student life and budget affairs got up and spoke, but don't ask me for specific details regarding content...my eyes glazed over halfway through the former's speech and I started browsing through the packet of papers they gave us upon entering the building. The student health plan's staff showed up to answer medical questions and advertise their nice large psychiatric wing. (Room for one more...)
The only other thing of note from the entire assembly was the chair of graduate student government's speech comparing graduate school to the Lord of the Rings. It was a rather overextended metaphor, but an apt one nonetheless. Apparently right now, I'm living in "The Shire", a tranquil place filled with friendly faces and very little peril. But soon enough, I will be confronted with "orcs" and "goblins" and "research papers" that will hinder my travels. Occasionally I will make new allies and meet strange creatures like Nobel laureates (met one later that day!) who will help inspire me as I move towards my ultimate goal...Mt. Doom? Is getting a Ph.D. the equivalent of setting up shop in the evil realm of Mordor? Is it likely to be filled with pain and despiar and sorrow and trolls? Will it all be worthwhile in the end? I'm not sure if the metaphor works perfectly, but it captured somewhat the exotic and strange nature of the journey I'm about to be taking, and I feel I'll look back on it in coming years and wonder how far along I've come in my journey.
Is finishing general exams the equivalent of surviving a siege? How far away will my travels take me? And am I even worthy to carry this burden after all?
The only way to know for sure is to set off on the journey. Classes start soon. More tales will surely follow.
Monday, September 11, 2006
The Unbearable Sadism of Libraries
Hi...I'm Ben and I'm a recovering bibliophile. (Hi, Ben.) I say that I'm recovering because of while preparing for my move to graduate school, I forced myself to cull a solid chunk of the books from my personal collection. Although it was tough to decide which books to keep and which to donate, sell, or otherwise dispose of, I figured it was for the best in a situation like mine. After all, I have just enough space on the bookshelf in my room for the volumes that survived the purge, plus a smaller empty shelf reserved for books purchased in connection with my program.
But I am still interested in reading new books, and consequently I made a beeline for the local public library as soon as possible to obtain my local library card. This was rather easy since it is only a few blocks from my new home. And damned if it wasn't an impressive place. 3 floors, an in-house coffee shop, and a huge array of multimedia material, especially DVDs. The only major deficiency was the lack of a good science-fiction section, but I'm willing to overlook that thanks to the magic of interlibrary loans.
Honestly the whole thing went without a hitch...until I read the library subscription materials. Consider the following loan periods:
Most books and audiobooks 3 weeks
New books for adults, music CDs 2 weeks
Nonfiction videos and DVDs, children's videos, CD-ROMS 1 week
Feature videos and DVDs 1 day
Yes...that's right.
You want to check out a DVD? You have a total of 24 hours to watch it and return it. That includes box sets of television programs. If I want to check out the new season of 24 on DVD, I'd have to watch it in REAL TIME! It's madness...madness! Even big city libraries let you take out DVD's for a week.
But then big city libraries don't make you PAY TO TAKE OUT MATERIAL!
That's right.
I forgot to mention the fine print under the last two items above.
"$1 fee at checkout"
Yes...you have to PAY to check out DVD's!
Does anyone else think this undermines the fundamental purpose of a library, i.e. the free distribution of culturally relevant materials for public consumption? Paying a fee? If I have to pay for my DVD's, the very least they can do is give me more than a day to watch them. I'd probably do just as well to join NetFlix or one of its affiliates. However, that of course assumes that I'll be able to watch a lot of films once classes start. Since orientation is tomorrow, I guess I'll find out soon.
Oh...and for those who care, yes, I do remember where I was five years ago today. Do you?
Hi...I'm Ben and I'm a recovering bibliophile. (Hi, Ben.) I say that I'm recovering because of while preparing for my move to graduate school, I forced myself to cull a solid chunk of the books from my personal collection. Although it was tough to decide which books to keep and which to donate, sell, or otherwise dispose of, I figured it was for the best in a situation like mine. After all, I have just enough space on the bookshelf in my room for the volumes that survived the purge, plus a smaller empty shelf reserved for books purchased in connection with my program.
But I am still interested in reading new books, and consequently I made a beeline for the local public library as soon as possible to obtain my local library card. This was rather easy since it is only a few blocks from my new home. And damned if it wasn't an impressive place. 3 floors, an in-house coffee shop, and a huge array of multimedia material, especially DVDs. The only major deficiency was the lack of a good science-fiction section, but I'm willing to overlook that thanks to the magic of interlibrary loans.
Honestly the whole thing went without a hitch...until I read the library subscription materials. Consider the following loan periods:
Most books and audiobooks 3 weeks
New books for adults, music CDs 2 weeks
Nonfiction videos and DVDs, children's videos, CD-ROMS 1 week
Feature videos and DVDs 1 day
Yes...that's right.
You want to check out a DVD? You have a total of 24 hours to watch it and return it. That includes box sets of television programs. If I want to check out the new season of 24 on DVD, I'd have to watch it in REAL TIME! It's madness...madness! Even big city libraries let you take out DVD's for a week.
But then big city libraries don't make you PAY TO TAKE OUT MATERIAL!
That's right.
I forgot to mention the fine print under the last two items above.
"$1 fee at checkout"
Yes...you have to PAY to check out DVD's!
Does anyone else think this undermines the fundamental purpose of a library, i.e. the free distribution of culturally relevant materials for public consumption? Paying a fee? If I have to pay for my DVD's, the very least they can do is give me more than a day to watch them. I'd probably do just as well to join NetFlix or one of its affiliates. However, that of course assumes that I'll be able to watch a lot of films once classes start. Since orientation is tomorrow, I guess I'll find out soon.
Oh...and for those who care, yes, I do remember where I was five years ago today. Do you?
Thursday, September 07, 2006
Through the Looking Glass (With Shades of Green Acres)
This just in: The Invisible Ben is alive and blogging. I'm now coming to you live from the campus of Old Ivy University, somewhere in the northeastern United States. My accommodations have changed but the blogging shall remain even if the original impetus for this site's creation, my teaching career in the inner city, does not.
In fact the contrast between my life during the past three years and my new surroundings could hardly be any more pronounced. Allow me to give a simple example. Right now I am typing this at my desk and below my monitor is a little digital thermometer I bought when I suspected a heating problem in my old apartment. The display indicates that it is approximately 79 degrees. This is relatively comfortable. However, in contrast to the Invisible Penthouse, if the humidity were slightly higher or the weather were slightly warmer, I would have very little recourse. There is no air conditioning in my new room. (I'm still formulating a name for the place...the Invisible Cloister, perhaps?) The electrical system is apparently incapable of handling the load.
Beyond this however, if I were to turn the fans off or just take a walk outside, I would hear something completely alien to my previous urban existence. Crickets. Cicadas. A vertiable symphony of arthropodic cacophony. All outside my window, replacing the sirens and car alarms that characterized the streets near Underwood High School.. There is foliage. There is greenery. There are nearby streets named after local fauna of which my personal favorite remains Opossum Lane.
What was it someone once said... "Goodbye, city life!"
It's not quite as bad as Green Acres here, but it is something of a change. It's far closer to the small town where I grew up than a major metropolis. There is one major stretch of shops and such near campus, but otherwise, it's a typical upper class town. There are lots of chain stores, but an equal number of small independent shops.
And then there's my actual living situation. As I may have mentioned in an earlier post, I am living in a furnished room provided by a professor. Technically, I suppose the professor would say that I am a participant/contributor to a common household rather than a renter, but given that I am paying money to him and he is providing me with a room in exchange, I really see no need to quibble over semantics. The room itself is a relatively large third floor room, down the hall from a bathroom and kitchen. Sadly the kitchen has no working oven or stove, so unless I want to trek down to the first floor it appears I'll be delving back into the realm of microwave cookery. And perhaps occasional toaster ovenry. But not both at the same time because the electrical grid can't handle the load.
My housemates seem very nice. Two are working full time, the third only stays in town a few days a week to work on her dissertation and then scurries back to her family in New York. All of them seem quiet, polite, and neat, which is really all one can hope for in these situations. There is also a cat, which I have nicknamed Pluto whom I tolerate...barely. (If you thought of an E.A. Poe story rather than the planet, good for you!) I'm not a cat person, but I suppose it could be worse. We could have mice.
Unlike my former students, who started classes today, my coursework does not begin for an additional week so I am using the time to settle in, clean up, and resupply in advance. It was a relatively productive day. I visited my new insurance agent to finalize my new car insurance policy then traveled to a gigantic shopping center down the road to obtain new shelving unit to serve as a makeshift pantry for my bedroom. Then a quick walk around campus to check out my new bank and try to visit my new departmental offices. Finally, I meandered around to the university bookstore where I nearly lost my old cell phone. Unfortunately, I only realized this 15 minutes later when I reached the town's public library and found myself unable to turn off my cell phone upon entering. Then back home to hang up posters, fix a broken mirror (the glass slid out of the frame!), and tape down some wires. And chat with my housemates about teaching. My girlfriend even got to contribute to that part thanks to the magic of speakerphone (yes...my new cell phone has speaker phone) by sharing a story about a wardrobe malfunction during her first day with students. (No...not that kind of malfunction, you sickos!)
All in all, I've entered into a very strange place, almost the complete antithesis of where I was. Hopefully I'll be completely settled in by the time the stress kicks in with my graduate program, but even then...it's graduate school. There won't be any students cussing at me or throwing things. I won't be lesson planning until all hours of the night. It will definitely be an experience upon which I intend to spend a great deal of time reflecting.
And I hope you'll all stick around for the ride.
This just in: The Invisible Ben is alive and blogging. I'm now coming to you live from the campus of Old Ivy University, somewhere in the northeastern United States. My accommodations have changed but the blogging shall remain even if the original impetus for this site's creation, my teaching career in the inner city, does not.
In fact the contrast between my life during the past three years and my new surroundings could hardly be any more pronounced. Allow me to give a simple example. Right now I am typing this at my desk and below my monitor is a little digital thermometer I bought when I suspected a heating problem in my old apartment. The display indicates that it is approximately 79 degrees. This is relatively comfortable. However, in contrast to the Invisible Penthouse, if the humidity were slightly higher or the weather were slightly warmer, I would have very little recourse. There is no air conditioning in my new room. (I'm still formulating a name for the place...the Invisible Cloister, perhaps?) The electrical system is apparently incapable of handling the load.
Beyond this however, if I were to turn the fans off or just take a walk outside, I would hear something completely alien to my previous urban existence. Crickets. Cicadas. A vertiable symphony of arthropodic cacophony. All outside my window, replacing the sirens and car alarms that characterized the streets near Underwood High School.. There is foliage. There is greenery. There are nearby streets named after local fauna of which my personal favorite remains Opossum Lane.
What was it someone once said... "Goodbye, city life!"
It's not quite as bad as Green Acres here, but it is something of a change. It's far closer to the small town where I grew up than a major metropolis. There is one major stretch of shops and such near campus, but otherwise, it's a typical upper class town. There are lots of chain stores, but an equal number of small independent shops.
And then there's my actual living situation. As I may have mentioned in an earlier post, I am living in a furnished room provided by a professor. Technically, I suppose the professor would say that I am a participant/contributor to a common household rather than a renter, but given that I am paying money to him and he is providing me with a room in exchange, I really see no need to quibble over semantics. The room itself is a relatively large third floor room, down the hall from a bathroom and kitchen. Sadly the kitchen has no working oven or stove, so unless I want to trek down to the first floor it appears I'll be delving back into the realm of microwave cookery. And perhaps occasional toaster ovenry. But not both at the same time because the electrical grid can't handle the load.
My housemates seem very nice. Two are working full time, the third only stays in town a few days a week to work on her dissertation and then scurries back to her family in New York. All of them seem quiet, polite, and neat, which is really all one can hope for in these situations. There is also a cat, which I have nicknamed Pluto whom I tolerate...barely. (If you thought of an E.A. Poe story rather than the planet, good for you!) I'm not a cat person, but I suppose it could be worse. We could have mice.
Unlike my former students, who started classes today, my coursework does not begin for an additional week so I am using the time to settle in, clean up, and resupply in advance. It was a relatively productive day. I visited my new insurance agent to finalize my new car insurance policy then traveled to a gigantic shopping center down the road to obtain new shelving unit to serve as a makeshift pantry for my bedroom. Then a quick walk around campus to check out my new bank and try to visit my new departmental offices. Finally, I meandered around to the university bookstore where I nearly lost my old cell phone. Unfortunately, I only realized this 15 minutes later when I reached the town's public library and found myself unable to turn off my cell phone upon entering. Then back home to hang up posters, fix a broken mirror (the glass slid out of the frame!), and tape down some wires. And chat with my housemates about teaching. My girlfriend even got to contribute to that part thanks to the magic of speakerphone (yes...my new cell phone has speaker phone) by sharing a story about a wardrobe malfunction during her first day with students. (No...not that kind of malfunction, you sickos!)
All in all, I've entered into a very strange place, almost the complete antithesis of where I was. Hopefully I'll be completely settled in by the time the stress kicks in with my graduate program, but even then...it's graduate school. There won't be any students cussing at me or throwing things. I won't be lesson planning until all hours of the night. It will definitely be an experience upon which I intend to spend a great deal of time reflecting.
And I hope you'll all stick around for the ride.
Monday, September 04, 2006
Blackout Warning
For your information loyal readers: There may be a brief cessation in posting as I move my computer out of the Invisible Penthouse and relocate to the campus of Old Ivy University.
See you on the other side...
For your information loyal readers: There may be a brief cessation in posting as I move my computer out of the Invisible Penthouse and relocate to the campus of Old Ivy University.
See you on the other side...
