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.
