Tuesday, May 29, 2007
An Underwood Memoriam
This morning I received an e-mail from my girlfriend letting me know that a teacher at Underwood High had died sometime during Memorial Day weekend. I had known that this teacher, who for the purposes of this blog post, I will refer to as Ms. Crowe, was ill. After being diagnosed with cancer earlier in the school year, she had taken a leave of absence from her normal position in the roster room to pursue treatment. When I heard about this, I, like most of the other teachers, assumed that it was a routine procedure and that she would be back in a few months.
Consequently, when the school's principal, Ms. Oldman, informed the Underwood community at the end of second period that Ms. Crowe had passed away, it came as something of a shock, especially for the teachers. Most of the students didn't know her very well, which was understandable given the amount of time she was forced to devote to work in the roster office rather than in her special education classroom. But to the teachers, including myself, she was a dynamic presence, always helping to organize social events like the end of year retirement dinner or holiday potluck lunches we held in the school's media center. She was a boisterous, compassionate woman who never left anyone in doubt regarding her loyalty to the school and its students.
Perhaps it was this love of her students which led her to become the head of Underwood's night school program, intended for those kids who had gotten either too disruptive or too old to succeed in a normal classroom environment. It was a thankless task. Hundreds of kids showed up to enroll each semester, but their numbers swiftly declined once they realized that Ms. Crowe did not intend to just pass them along for no reason. They had to attend classes regularly, arrive on time every night, and behave appropriately. Failure to follow any of these guidelines could lead to a student's expulsion from the program, a major selling point to potential night school teachers tired of feeling impotent in the face of blatant disrespect during the regular school day. The night school was Ms. Crowe's project and she threw every bit of energy she had into making sure that students who were participating stayed in for the long haul and earned their diplomas. She was frequently praised by the school's administration for helping to boost Underwood's traditionally poor graduation rate.
She occassionally attempted to recruit me to work for the night school while I was working at Underwood. "You're already staying at school until 6 or 7 o'clock most nights," she said. "Why not get paid for doing it?" Much as I would have appreciated a little extra supplement to my salary, each time she asked, I declined. After a full day standing in front of a classroom of disruptive freshmen or disrespectful upperclassmen (or vice versa), I simply could not muster the energy to teach students who had, in my mind, already demonstrated a lack of interest in what education had to offer. By the end of a typical school day I was too drained, demoralized, and hollowed out to do much of anything...how could I muster up to the enthusiasm needed to stick with these down and out kids, to let them know the system hadn't abandoned them and that there was a still a chance of success after all? How could anyone?
Some of my colleagues taught night school only for the money. They still treated the kids with respect and provided them with basic instruction, but in most cases these involved worksheets or problems from textbooks rather than actual instruction. To them, and to an extent to me, night school was something of a sham, another effort on the school district's part to boost statistics and prevent students from slipping through the cracks. But to Ms. Crowe, the night school program represented hope. It was the way she demonstrated her love for the students, even the worst of them. She deeply cared about every child under her supervision. It was obvious in everything she said or did. And because she cared so much, it sometimes served to persuade even the most jaded and cynical to lend a hand to make her work successful. It was why I volunteered on a few occasions to help cover classes when regular night school teachers were out sick or, on one memorable occasion, ended up supervising a business class for 2 hours while the official teacher ran off on a "10 minute" errand to fix her car. (That teacher was subsequently fired from night school for her irresponsibility.)
The impact of Ms. Crowe's death on the regular student body is likely minimal. Its effects on the behind the scenes machinery that allows Underwood to function as a semi-viable educational institution, especially the night school program, are likely devastating. The roster office has lost its most experienced worker and I have no idea who will take over as the supervisor for the night classes. Whether the school will be able to ensure any semblance of continuity within the program is completely up in the air.
All of these things ran through my mind when I read the news that she was gone. But besides her dedication to her students, both past and present, I think the thing I'll remember the most about Ms. Crowe was the support she gave me during my time at Underwood. She was one of the few teachers who arrived at school as early as I did, and always said hello to me in the morning. She provided good advice for how to deal with some of my more troublesome students and one a few occasions helped arrange to change their rosters if they were giving me too much trouble. She even let me grab a free snack from the leftover sandwiches provided to the night school kids. They were greasy, tasted terrible, and always came with a piece of underripe fruit, but given that I probably wasn't going to be getting dinner for another few hours, they helped me get through the afternoon and focus on grading rather than eating. Of course, she always told me that I should get out more and conspired with some of the other teachers to find me a girlfriend. Needless to say, after I found one of my own conveniently located a few doors down the hall, she was quite pleased...and she regularly told my girlfriend so even after I resigned!
In my past few posts, I promised to write something more about Underwood High. I had hoped that these entries would be more along the lines of the "zany adventure" type stories to which this blog was originally devoted. In fact, this very post was going to be a discussion of how my collection of preserved mice was stolen right out from under my successor's nose by a mob of kleptomaniacal freshmen. But then...a colleague, a friend, a fellow soldier in the trenches of inner city academia died, and all of that seemed less important. And I'm willing to bet I'm not the only one connected with Underwood High who feels a sense of loss, both personally and to the life of the school, and are trying to come to terms with it.
This morning I received an e-mail from my girlfriend letting me know that a teacher at Underwood High had died sometime during Memorial Day weekend. I had known that this teacher, who for the purposes of this blog post, I will refer to as Ms. Crowe, was ill. After being diagnosed with cancer earlier in the school year, she had taken a leave of absence from her normal position in the roster room to pursue treatment. When I heard about this, I, like most of the other teachers, assumed that it was a routine procedure and that she would be back in a few months.
Consequently, when the school's principal, Ms. Oldman, informed the Underwood community at the end of second period that Ms. Crowe had passed away, it came as something of a shock, especially for the teachers. Most of the students didn't know her very well, which was understandable given the amount of time she was forced to devote to work in the roster office rather than in her special education classroom. But to the teachers, including myself, she was a dynamic presence, always helping to organize social events like the end of year retirement dinner or holiday potluck lunches we held in the school's media center. She was a boisterous, compassionate woman who never left anyone in doubt regarding her loyalty to the school and its students.
Perhaps it was this love of her students which led her to become the head of Underwood's night school program, intended for those kids who had gotten either too disruptive or too old to succeed in a normal classroom environment. It was a thankless task. Hundreds of kids showed up to enroll each semester, but their numbers swiftly declined once they realized that Ms. Crowe did not intend to just pass them along for no reason. They had to attend classes regularly, arrive on time every night, and behave appropriately. Failure to follow any of these guidelines could lead to a student's expulsion from the program, a major selling point to potential night school teachers tired of feeling impotent in the face of blatant disrespect during the regular school day. The night school was Ms. Crowe's project and she threw every bit of energy she had into making sure that students who were participating stayed in for the long haul and earned their diplomas. She was frequently praised by the school's administration for helping to boost Underwood's traditionally poor graduation rate.
She occassionally attempted to recruit me to work for the night school while I was working at Underwood. "You're already staying at school until 6 or 7 o'clock most nights," she said. "Why not get paid for doing it?" Much as I would have appreciated a little extra supplement to my salary, each time she asked, I declined. After a full day standing in front of a classroom of disruptive freshmen or disrespectful upperclassmen (or vice versa), I simply could not muster the energy to teach students who had, in my mind, already demonstrated a lack of interest in what education had to offer. By the end of a typical school day I was too drained, demoralized, and hollowed out to do much of anything...how could I muster up to the enthusiasm needed to stick with these down and out kids, to let them know the system hadn't abandoned them and that there was a still a chance of success after all? How could anyone?
Some of my colleagues taught night school only for the money. They still treated the kids with respect and provided them with basic instruction, but in most cases these involved worksheets or problems from textbooks rather than actual instruction. To them, and to an extent to me, night school was something of a sham, another effort on the school district's part to boost statistics and prevent students from slipping through the cracks. But to Ms. Crowe, the night school program represented hope. It was the way she demonstrated her love for the students, even the worst of them. She deeply cared about every child under her supervision. It was obvious in everything she said or did. And because she cared so much, it sometimes served to persuade even the most jaded and cynical to lend a hand to make her work successful. It was why I volunteered on a few occasions to help cover classes when regular night school teachers were out sick or, on one memorable occasion, ended up supervising a business class for 2 hours while the official teacher ran off on a "10 minute" errand to fix her car. (That teacher was subsequently fired from night school for her irresponsibility.)
The impact of Ms. Crowe's death on the regular student body is likely minimal. Its effects on the behind the scenes machinery that allows Underwood to function as a semi-viable educational institution, especially the night school program, are likely devastating. The roster office has lost its most experienced worker and I have no idea who will take over as the supervisor for the night classes. Whether the school will be able to ensure any semblance of continuity within the program is completely up in the air.
All of these things ran through my mind when I read the news that she was gone. But besides her dedication to her students, both past and present, I think the thing I'll remember the most about Ms. Crowe was the support she gave me during my time at Underwood. She was one of the few teachers who arrived at school as early as I did, and always said hello to me in the morning. She provided good advice for how to deal with some of my more troublesome students and one a few occasions helped arrange to change their rosters if they were giving me too much trouble. She even let me grab a free snack from the leftover sandwiches provided to the night school kids. They were greasy, tasted terrible, and always came with a piece of underripe fruit, but given that I probably wasn't going to be getting dinner for another few hours, they helped me get through the afternoon and focus on grading rather than eating. Of course, she always told me that I should get out more and conspired with some of the other teachers to find me a girlfriend. Needless to say, after I found one of my own conveniently located a few doors down the hall, she was quite pleased...and she regularly told my girlfriend so even after I resigned!
In my past few posts, I promised to write something more about Underwood High. I had hoped that these entries would be more along the lines of the "zany adventure" type stories to which this blog was originally devoted. In fact, this very post was going to be a discussion of how my collection of preserved mice was stolen right out from under my successor's nose by a mob of kleptomaniacal freshmen. But then...a colleague, a friend, a fellow soldier in the trenches of inner city academia died, and all of that seemed less important. And I'm willing to bet I'm not the only one connected with Underwood High who feels a sense of loss, both personally and to the life of the school, and are trying to come to terms with it.
Monday, May 28, 2007
The Tooth Remains
And now, as a special Memorial Day event...the saga of the Invisible Ben and his perpendicular teeth continues! When last we left our hero and his maladjusted molars, plans were afoot for a surgery to terminate his dental dilemma once and for all. Unfortunately, like most of America's recent foreign policy initiatives in the Middle East, what was meant to be a swift, surgical operation quickly got bogged down in bureaucratic details, miscommunication, and poor planning.
Here's how it went down. Because the dentist who initially diagnosed my problem was not the preferred practitioner on my graduate student health plan, after a weekend on painkillers and penicillin, I called my officially-sanctioned dentist office on Monday morning. They asked me to come in, fill out some paperwork, and get another set of preliminary X-rays. Even though I had already: a. filled out the same set of paperwork the previous weekend b. obtained an X-ray on the same occassion AND c. signed a waiver allowing for the two offices to transfer my paperwork and records between one another, I went in and did what I was told. The diagnosis remained basically the same: horizontal wisdom tooth, needs to get looked at, etc., but this time the dental hygienist informed me of a heretofore unmentioned risk. The roots of the horizontal wisdom tooth were apparently quite close to the nerves in my lower jaw. Consequently, removal of the tooth could lead to permanent numbness throughout my chin, lips, etc. I was informed that I would discuss these issues on Friday with another dentist, after which if we agreed it was necessary, I could get my procedure.
Here is where things started to go wrong. Based on this conversation, I scheduled a Friday appointment and began to make plans for transportation. After all, if I were indeed going under the knife, I would likely be in no condition to drive myself home. I called on Tuesday to confirm that more likely than not I would be getting surgery and then started considering my options. Originally, I had hoped my girlfriend would be able to help out, but she would have to wait for the weekend because she would be preparing her seniors for their statistics final exam, Instead, the Invisible Mom volunteered for the task, arriving the night before for a tasty dinner and her first visit to the Invisible Commune. She came bearing gifts: a book of literary trivia, some frozen homemade soup, and, courtesy of the Invisible Dad, a pulse oximeter...just in case the dentist didn't happen to have one handy during the surgery. All in all, it was a nice evening. Mom was impressed by the local public library and its proximity to a high quality ice cream/coffee shop. But then, it was time to go home and rest up for the big day to come. On the advice of the Invisible Dad, I avoided eating or drinking anything after midnight in case I needed to be put under anesthesia.
This, however, turned out to be unnecessary, though I would not find out about it until later. Friday morning went basically according to plan, with the exception of some navigation-related confusion which confirmed the value of the Invisible Mom's in-car GPS system. We still arrived at the dentists in time for my 10 AM appointment. The dentist, an older gentleman who reminded me of a cross between Bob Hoskins and Burgess Meredith, met with us soon after. He took out a copy of the X-ray, placed it on the traditional backlit board, and proceeded to explain the internal anatomy of my skull. Apparently, I have the jaw of a boxer, cloudy sinuses due to allergies, and a wisdom tooth that should not be removed at this time. I expected only the second of these observations, and while the first was interesting, the third was rather disconcerting, especially given that it now seemed that I had basically forced the Invisible Mom to take a day off from work for nothing. But the dentist remained firm: the tooth was too close to the nerve and given that the pain had subsided along with the infection, it might not be necessary unless it became chronic.
All well and good, but not what I had been informed, not to mention the fact that I now had to live with a ticking time bomb of a tooth in my lower jaw waiting to impact forward into its nearest neighbor at any moment. Both my mother and I asked the dentist about possible alternatives and were only then informed that surgery would be IMPOSSIBLE at this location...they didn't have oral surgery facilities or equipment to complete this procedure! So much for the "more likely than not" promise of receptionists and dental hygienists. We had a rather tense chat with the office manager who promised that after the long weekend she would look into passing my case to a third facility that could actually do something to address the issue. But for now, we left, with all our teeth intact and a copy of the X-ray to pass on to the Invisible Dad for his consideration.
Honestly, I'm rather torn on the whole matter. On the one hand, if surgery is unnecessary, I'd be foolish to regret its absence. On the other, I have no doubt that a horizontal tooth is not something anyone should keep, given a choice. Similarly, though I feel badly that both my mother and girlfriend rearranged their schedule to help me recuperate, it was nice to have them visit. And while I look forward to getting some closure on the whole matter sometime this week, I'm afraid that neither of the options confrotning me are going to be particularly pleasant.
But at least I can enjoy my Memorial Day without ice packs and painkillers. If only I knew someone hosting a barbeque...
(0) comments
And now, as a special Memorial Day event...the saga of the Invisible Ben and his perpendicular teeth continues! When last we left our hero and his maladjusted molars, plans were afoot for a surgery to terminate his dental dilemma once and for all. Unfortunately, like most of America's recent foreign policy initiatives in the Middle East, what was meant to be a swift, surgical operation quickly got bogged down in bureaucratic details, miscommunication, and poor planning.
Here's how it went down. Because the dentist who initially diagnosed my problem was not the preferred practitioner on my graduate student health plan, after a weekend on painkillers and penicillin, I called my officially-sanctioned dentist office on Monday morning. They asked me to come in, fill out some paperwork, and get another set of preliminary X-rays. Even though I had already: a. filled out the same set of paperwork the previous weekend b. obtained an X-ray on the same occassion AND c. signed a waiver allowing for the two offices to transfer my paperwork and records between one another, I went in and did what I was told. The diagnosis remained basically the same: horizontal wisdom tooth, needs to get looked at, etc., but this time the dental hygienist informed me of a heretofore unmentioned risk. The roots of the horizontal wisdom tooth were apparently quite close to the nerves in my lower jaw. Consequently, removal of the tooth could lead to permanent numbness throughout my chin, lips, etc. I was informed that I would discuss these issues on Friday with another dentist, after which if we agreed it was necessary, I could get my procedure.
Here is where things started to go wrong. Based on this conversation, I scheduled a Friday appointment and began to make plans for transportation. After all, if I were indeed going under the knife, I would likely be in no condition to drive myself home. I called on Tuesday to confirm that more likely than not I would be getting surgery and then started considering my options. Originally, I had hoped my girlfriend would be able to help out, but she would have to wait for the weekend because she would be preparing her seniors for their statistics final exam, Instead, the Invisible Mom volunteered for the task, arriving the night before for a tasty dinner and her first visit to the Invisible Commune. She came bearing gifts: a book of literary trivia, some frozen homemade soup, and, courtesy of the Invisible Dad, a pulse oximeter...just in case the dentist didn't happen to have one handy during the surgery. All in all, it was a nice evening. Mom was impressed by the local public library and its proximity to a high quality ice cream/coffee shop. But then, it was time to go home and rest up for the big day to come. On the advice of the Invisible Dad, I avoided eating or drinking anything after midnight in case I needed to be put under anesthesia.
This, however, turned out to be unnecessary, though I would not find out about it until later. Friday morning went basically according to plan, with the exception of some navigation-related confusion which confirmed the value of the Invisible Mom's in-car GPS system. We still arrived at the dentists in time for my 10 AM appointment. The dentist, an older gentleman who reminded me of a cross between Bob Hoskins and Burgess Meredith, met with us soon after. He took out a copy of the X-ray, placed it on the traditional backlit board, and proceeded to explain the internal anatomy of my skull. Apparently, I have the jaw of a boxer, cloudy sinuses due to allergies, and a wisdom tooth that should not be removed at this time. I expected only the second of these observations, and while the first was interesting, the third was rather disconcerting, especially given that it now seemed that I had basically forced the Invisible Mom to take a day off from work for nothing. But the dentist remained firm: the tooth was too close to the nerve and given that the pain had subsided along with the infection, it might not be necessary unless it became chronic.
All well and good, but not what I had been informed, not to mention the fact that I now had to live with a ticking time bomb of a tooth in my lower jaw waiting to impact forward into its nearest neighbor at any moment. Both my mother and I asked the dentist about possible alternatives and were only then informed that surgery would be IMPOSSIBLE at this location...they didn't have oral surgery facilities or equipment to complete this procedure! So much for the "more likely than not" promise of receptionists and dental hygienists. We had a rather tense chat with the office manager who promised that after the long weekend she would look into passing my case to a third facility that could actually do something to address the issue. But for now, we left, with all our teeth intact and a copy of the X-ray to pass on to the Invisible Dad for his consideration.
Honestly, I'm rather torn on the whole matter. On the one hand, if surgery is unnecessary, I'd be foolish to regret its absence. On the other, I have no doubt that a horizontal tooth is not something anyone should keep, given a choice. Similarly, though I feel badly that both my mother and girlfriend rearranged their schedule to help me recuperate, it was nice to have them visit. And while I look forward to getting some closure on the whole matter sometime this week, I'm afraid that neither of the options confrotning me are going to be particularly pleasant.
But at least I can enjoy my Memorial Day without ice packs and painkillers. If only I knew someone hosting a barbeque...
Sunday, May 20, 2007
Wisdom Can Be Painful (Or: Much Ado About Nothing, Act V, Sc. 1)
On 2:20 last Friday, I turned in the last piece of work associated with the classes I took this semester, which means that I am officially finished with my first year of graduate school. Admittedly, there are still a few rather significant loose ends I still need to clear up before I can offically take a summer hiatus from the world of academia. There's still the matter of my first year research paper, which I submitted in March to my professor. Three months later, and I've learned nothing definite regarding its fate besides being told by said professor that "it's on my agenda." Hopefully I can get that squared away before the June 15th deadline for my department, or the June 1st deadline for the conference I hope to present it at in September.
But aside from that and some other departmental paperwork, as of Friday I was basically halfway to my general exams and a master's degree in the history of science. Needless to say, I considered this worthy of celebration, so I took a trip to visit my girlfriend. After a nice dinner out on the town, everything seemed to be lining up for a nice quiet evening at home...with one exception. For the past few days I had been suffering from a rather annoying toothache on the right side of my mouth. Thanks to slightly more intense dental hygiene regimen, it had disappeared by Thursday. I had thought it was gone for good.
Sadly for me, but fortunately for the five people who enjoy reading my blog, I was mistaken. Otherwise, I wouldn't have anything about which to write.
As fate should have it, my toothache began to reassert itself during the rather unimpressive season finale of Law and Order on NBC. (Hey look, it's Jeffrey Tambor playing an incompetent judge!) Despite taking several over the counter painkillers, my toothache grew so powerful that I was unable to sleep. Even basic tooth-related tasks like closing my mouth caused excrutiating pain. Which is why I was up at 7:00 in the morning on a Saturday waiting for dentists to open to see if I could schedule an emergency appointment. Fortunately, there was a dental office open on weekends reasonably nearby, and my girlfriend (confirming her incredible awesomeness, yet again), traveled with me to wait for an appointment.
There was some concern I might not get a chance to see anyone, especially when I thought, incorrectly as it turned out, that I had misplaced my dental insurance card. Plus, the guy next to us kept saying that the office was "TERRIBLE!" and that he hated it so much he was going to leave. And then he did, five minutes before the staff tried to call him in. Thanks to the suddenly smaller slate of patients, I was able to see someone after less than an hour of waiting.
After explaining my problem, the hygienist pointed me towards a very fancy machine, I quickly learned was a panoramic X-Ray machine. I stood very still while the device rotated around my skull, taking pictures on all sides. A quick online search reveals that the resulting image can also be called an orthopantogram or a panorex. However, as soon as it was developed and my girlfriend and I saw it, it quickly took on greater significance.
You know how normally when dentists (or any other experts) point out problems on a X-Rays to a layman, it requires some type of explanation so that ordinary laypeople can figure out what's going on?
This was not necessary here. In my haste on Saturday, I forgot to grab a copy of this image for my records. Nevertheless, I have recreated it with nearly flawless precision below using state of the art digital imaging technology. Based on this image, see if you can ascertain what was wrong with the teeth in my lower jaw.
Yes, you guessed it. I was suffering from a case of poor dental resolution. As soon as they had re-rendered my orthodontic vector framework and remodulated the enamel's Gaussian blur, my teeth would be just fine.
Except for the wisdom tooth embedded underneath my gumline and rotated ninety degrees towards the front of my mouth. The one that was steadily growing into my penultimate molar, leading to painful swelling, infection, and the sudden realization that I might have to start on that all-liquid diet that all the celebrities keep endorsing on late night television. My girlfriend, who had already had her wisdom teeth out, was still startled at the sheer geometric absurdity of two teeth forming a right angle in a person's mouth.
An honest-to-God dentist finally dropped by a few moments later to confirm what my girlfriend and I had already figured out. (Sing it with me now: "One of these teeth is not like the others...one of these teeth is GOUGING INTO MY JAW!") He recommended surgery after a full regimen of antibiotics and painkillers, which I've been told by oral surgery veterans is par for the course. He then wrote me some prescriptions and directed me to the front desk to schedule my day under the knife. All in all, despite the rage of that one patient who walked out, it was a relatively pleasant experience...painless, even. The only difficulties emerged because my health insurance office was not open on Saturday, I had to pay for the X-rays and couldn't get a date pinned down on the calendar to extract the offending molar.
Still, I felt somewhat validated upon learning that my pain was not imaginary, and after a quick trip to the supermarket to pick up my new prescription painkillers (now with codeine!) we returned to my girlfriend's apartment where I was swiftly medicated. The painkillers took a while to have any sort of effect. I was able to sit through the entire DVD of Newsies, that classic Disney tale of labor relations and choreographed street life (Who knew that Batman started out his life as rabble-rousing newspaper vendor?) without any noticeable change. But shortly thereafter, I was getting drowsy and ended up napping through most of Wait, Wait Don't Tell Me despite both Charlie Pierce and Adam Felber being on the panel. Thankfully, when we got dinner that evening, the pain had subsided to the point where I could eat solid food...at least on one side of my mouth. And, after a public television screening of one of my favorite films ( 12 Angry Men), I was even able to sleep through the night.
So all in all, it could be a lot worse. Sure, I have to get my jaw sliced open, but at least I got all of my papers done before the surgery. And thanks to the medication, I can even enjoy some substantive last meals, which is rather comforting. Not that I mind gorging on ice cream, pudding, soup, and yogurt, mind you...but I enjoy chewing. I've been doing it for a while, I'm used to it, and I think it's an underrated part of the eating experience. I'm going to miss it while it's gone.
But, such is the price we pay to remedy the perpendicular teeth in our lives.
More news on my wisdom tooth extraction and the previously promised tales from Underwood High will be coming shortly.
(0) comments
On 2:20 last Friday, I turned in the last piece of work associated with the classes I took this semester, which means that I am officially finished with my first year of graduate school. Admittedly, there are still a few rather significant loose ends I still need to clear up before I can offically take a summer hiatus from the world of academia. There's still the matter of my first year research paper, which I submitted in March to my professor. Three months later, and I've learned nothing definite regarding its fate besides being told by said professor that "it's on my agenda." Hopefully I can get that squared away before the June 15th deadline for my department, or the June 1st deadline for the conference I hope to present it at in September.
But aside from that and some other departmental paperwork, as of Friday I was basically halfway to my general exams and a master's degree in the history of science. Needless to say, I considered this worthy of celebration, so I took a trip to visit my girlfriend. After a nice dinner out on the town, everything seemed to be lining up for a nice quiet evening at home...with one exception. For the past few days I had been suffering from a rather annoying toothache on the right side of my mouth. Thanks to slightly more intense dental hygiene regimen, it had disappeared by Thursday. I had thought it was gone for good.
Sadly for me, but fortunately for the five people who enjoy reading my blog, I was mistaken. Otherwise, I wouldn't have anything about which to write.
As fate should have it, my toothache began to reassert itself during the rather unimpressive season finale of Law and Order on NBC. (Hey look, it's Jeffrey Tambor playing an incompetent judge!) Despite taking several over the counter painkillers, my toothache grew so powerful that I was unable to sleep. Even basic tooth-related tasks like closing my mouth caused excrutiating pain. Which is why I was up at 7:00 in the morning on a Saturday waiting for dentists to open to see if I could schedule an emergency appointment. Fortunately, there was a dental office open on weekends reasonably nearby, and my girlfriend (confirming her incredible awesomeness, yet again), traveled with me to wait for an appointment.
There was some concern I might not get a chance to see anyone, especially when I thought, incorrectly as it turned out, that I had misplaced my dental insurance card. Plus, the guy next to us kept saying that the office was "TERRIBLE!" and that he hated it so much he was going to leave. And then he did, five minutes before the staff tried to call him in. Thanks to the suddenly smaller slate of patients, I was able to see someone after less than an hour of waiting.
After explaining my problem, the hygienist pointed me towards a very fancy machine, I quickly learned was a panoramic X-Ray machine. I stood very still while the device rotated around my skull, taking pictures on all sides. A quick online search reveals that the resulting image can also be called an orthopantogram or a panorex. However, as soon as it was developed and my girlfriend and I saw it, it quickly took on greater significance.
You know how normally when dentists (or any other experts) point out problems on a X-Rays to a layman, it requires some type of explanation so that ordinary laypeople can figure out what's going on?
This was not necessary here. In my haste on Saturday, I forgot to grab a copy of this image for my records. Nevertheless, I have recreated it with nearly flawless precision below using state of the art digital imaging technology. Based on this image, see if you can ascertain what was wrong with the teeth in my lower jaw.
Yes, you guessed it. I was suffering from a case of poor dental resolution. As soon as they had re-rendered my orthodontic vector framework and remodulated the enamel's Gaussian blur, my teeth would be just fine.
Except for the wisdom tooth embedded underneath my gumline and rotated ninety degrees towards the front of my mouth. The one that was steadily growing into my penultimate molar, leading to painful swelling, infection, and the sudden realization that I might have to start on that all-liquid diet that all the celebrities keep endorsing on late night television. My girlfriend, who had already had her wisdom teeth out, was still startled at the sheer geometric absurdity of two teeth forming a right angle in a person's mouth.
An honest-to-God dentist finally dropped by a few moments later to confirm what my girlfriend and I had already figured out. (Sing it with me now: "One of these teeth is not like the others...one of these teeth is GOUGING INTO MY JAW!") He recommended surgery after a full regimen of antibiotics and painkillers, which I've been told by oral surgery veterans is par for the course. He then wrote me some prescriptions and directed me to the front desk to schedule my day under the knife. All in all, despite the rage of that one patient who walked out, it was a relatively pleasant experience...painless, even. The only difficulties emerged because my health insurance office was not open on Saturday, I had to pay for the X-rays and couldn't get a date pinned down on the calendar to extract the offending molar.
Still, I felt somewhat validated upon learning that my pain was not imaginary, and after a quick trip to the supermarket to pick up my new prescription painkillers (now with codeine!) we returned to my girlfriend's apartment where I was swiftly medicated. The painkillers took a while to have any sort of effect. I was able to sit through the entire DVD of Newsies, that classic Disney tale of labor relations and choreographed street life (Who knew that Batman started out his life as rabble-rousing newspaper vendor?) without any noticeable change. But shortly thereafter, I was getting drowsy and ended up napping through most of Wait, Wait Don't Tell Me despite both Charlie Pierce and Adam Felber being on the panel. Thankfully, when we got dinner that evening, the pain had subsided to the point where I could eat solid food...at least on one side of my mouth. And, after a public television screening of one of my favorite films ( 12 Angry Men), I was even able to sleep through the night.
So all in all, it could be a lot worse. Sure, I have to get my jaw sliced open, but at least I got all of my papers done before the surgery. And thanks to the medication, I can even enjoy some substantive last meals, which is rather comforting. Not that I mind gorging on ice cream, pudding, soup, and yogurt, mind you...but I enjoy chewing. I've been doing it for a while, I'm used to it, and I think it's an underrated part of the eating experience. I'm going to miss it while it's gone.
But, such is the price we pay to remedy the perpendicular teeth in our lives.
More news on my wisdom tooth extraction and the previously promised tales from Underwood High will be coming shortly.
Sunday, May 06, 2007
May Daze: Paper Season
Some of you (namely the Invisible Mom) have been wondering why I have not been posting much lately. The reason is that the end of the academic semester is here and with it comes the inevitable FRUSTRATING GRADUATE SCHOOL PAPERS to write. Classes are basically finished, with the exception of one more meeting for my seminar on the Scientific Revolution this Wednesday, but otherwise I'll probably be hiding in the library anywhere from 10-14 hours a day for the next two weeks or so. I'm hoping to finish both of them by the 18th, but I'm worried that it may not be possible.
I'm writing one paper on the historiography (i.e. the history of the history...it's like the second derivative of the past) of the atomic bomb. My professor was kind enough to keep it "short", i.e. 25-30 pages. So I've been reading and taking notes on every article and book I can find on the subject. I've gotten through about 60 books and articles so far, so I'm planning to stop reading tomorrow and start outlining ideas. Hopefully I'll be able to sift through my notes and find some original ideas. Even though it may be inevitable, I'd strongly prefer coming up with a creative thesis to recapitulating the same old story.
The other paper is trickier because it's not a standard assignment. It's a lecture. But I'm not delivering it orally...I'm just writing it down. Since I've never written an academic lecture before that was meant to be delivered to students who have graduated from high school, this is somewhat intimidating. It has to fit somewhere into the syllabus for the class I'm taking on science in a global context. Tentatively, I'm thinking of doing something about the early history of paleontology. Finally, a chance to apply my kindergarten interests to a serious academic project.
Anyhow, that's why I've been remiss on my blogging and will likely continue to be so for the next few weeks. But I will be back soon with news about my exciting summer plans and some long delayed tales of terror from Underwood High.
(3) comments
Some of you (namely the Invisible Mom) have been wondering why I have not been posting much lately. The reason is that the end of the academic semester is here and with it comes the inevitable FRUSTRATING GRADUATE SCHOOL PAPERS to write. Classes are basically finished, with the exception of one more meeting for my seminar on the Scientific Revolution this Wednesday, but otherwise I'll probably be hiding in the library anywhere from 10-14 hours a day for the next two weeks or so. I'm hoping to finish both of them by the 18th, but I'm worried that it may not be possible.
I'm writing one paper on the historiography (i.e. the history of the history...it's like the second derivative of the past) of the atomic bomb. My professor was kind enough to keep it "short", i.e. 25-30 pages. So I've been reading and taking notes on every article and book I can find on the subject. I've gotten through about 60 books and articles so far, so I'm planning to stop reading tomorrow and start outlining ideas. Hopefully I'll be able to sift through my notes and find some original ideas. Even though it may be inevitable, I'd strongly prefer coming up with a creative thesis to recapitulating the same old story.
The other paper is trickier because it's not a standard assignment. It's a lecture. But I'm not delivering it orally...I'm just writing it down. Since I've never written an academic lecture before that was meant to be delivered to students who have graduated from high school, this is somewhat intimidating. It has to fit somewhere into the syllabus for the class I'm taking on science in a global context. Tentatively, I'm thinking of doing something about the early history of paleontology. Finally, a chance to apply my kindergarten interests to a serious academic project.
Anyhow, that's why I've been remiss on my blogging and will likely continue to be so for the next few weeks. But I will be back soon with news about my exciting summer plans and some long delayed tales of terror from Underwood High.
