Saturday, June 30, 2007
Ben's Bavaria Bound!
Hey all, just a heads up that I'll be traveling to Germany tomorrow. I intend to keep up my blogging as much as possible while I'm in Europe, but I'm not sure of how soon I'll be able to access the Internet once I get there.
More news once I reach the other side of the Atlantic.
Until then...auf wiedersehen!
(0) comments
Hey all, just a heads up that I'll be traveling to Germany tomorrow. I intend to keep up my blogging as much as possible while I'm in Europe, but I'm not sure of how soon I'll be able to access the Internet once I get there.
More news once I reach the other side of the Atlantic.
Until then...auf wiedersehen!
Friday, June 29, 2007
Robot Chicken...in SPAAAAACE!
If you are a science fiction fan and you have not watched the Robot Chicken Star Wars special, then you need to click here right now.
Some of you may be channeling your inner Admiral Ackbar, assuming that the link above is a trap, but it's really a startlingly clever, officially sanctioned parody! Not convinced? Just watch the clip below featuring Malcolm McDowell...
And that's just the tip of the iceberg. The odds of a Star Wars fan not liking this special are approximately 3,720 to 1! So go, watch, enjoy, and may the force be with you!
(0) comments
If you are a science fiction fan and you have not watched the Robot Chicken Star Wars special, then you need to click here right now.
Some of you may be channeling your inner Admiral Ackbar, assuming that the link above is a trap, but it's really a startlingly clever, officially sanctioned parody! Not convinced? Just watch the clip below featuring Malcolm McDowell...
And that's just the tip of the iceberg. The odds of a Star Wars fan not liking this special are approximately 3,720 to 1! So go, watch, enjoy, and may the force be with you!
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
A Breath of Fresh Air
Underwood High School's graduation was last week. I decided to attend, partly to keep my girlfriend company as she watched her senior statistics students graduate and partly because these were many students in the crowd whom I taught, either when they were freshmen, when they were juniors, or in few cases, both. They held the graduation in the same place they do every year, in a local college basketball arena, and families filled the upper deck bleachers getting ready to watch the happy seniors receive their diplomas.
The ceremony filled me with that strange mixture of pride and frustration that characterized much of my teaching career. This is fitting, since these were the first class I ever had the opportunity to teach at Underwood. We entered that building together and during the course of three years we learned from each other to varying degrees. Granted, my lessons tended more towards the academic, but I'd like to think that a few students learned more from me than how to calculate molarity or distinguish between physical and chemical changes. And I learned from them. I learned how to design engaging lessons, how to react to the unexpected, and how to maintain a veneer of calm as the world descends into madness...even if that world is only the size of a classroom.
As I sat there watching the valedictorian and the salutatorian, both of whom were A students in my chemistry class last year, deliver their speeches, there was a small part of me that wondered whether I had made the correct decision to leave the teaching profession. After all, I had taught a few really great kids! 18 of the top 25 students in the class had been in my science class at some point during their academic career, and now they were heading off to great schools like Temple, Lafayette, and the University of Pennsylvania. Here was the proof, dressed in cap and gown, that a teacher's efforts are not entirely in vain.
At the same time, however, there were reminders that not all was as it should be. A disclaimer at the bottom of the program noted that the Class of 2007 listed in the program "[did] not necessarily indicate completion of graduation requirements." And for every good student I saw taking the stage to receive their diploma, there were two or three kids who had made my life miserable on a surprisingly regular basis and who had definitely failed my class at least once. Despite the continuous reminders provided by my girlfriend (whose stories definitely merit posts of their own either on my blog or hers), my departure from Underwood had somehow led me to forget these rowdy, disruptive students who had not only refused my help, but insulted me in the process.
The point of this rambling is that even after a full year out of the classroom, teaching possesses an ambiguous emotional resonance for me, one that any discussion of teaching in the inner city is capable of evoking. Such was the case for me this afternoon when I turned on the radio to Terry Gross' unique take on the subject on today's episode of Fresh Air. Gross decided to interview two public school teachers who had both been physically assaulted in their classrooms to describe the state of education in the inner city. Both teachers were white males, veteran teachers with plenty of experience under their belts, and eminently qualified educators. And yet this wasn't enough to protect them from receiving serious injuries.
Listening to their stories, I recognized a pattern in the chaos they described outside their classrooms and could draw direct parallels to the challenges they faced getting kids to stop eating in class, turn off their iPods or CD players, and just accept the reality of the teacher's authority over them. Thankfully, none of my more outlandish tactics to accomplish these objectives landed me in the hospital with a brain injury, shattered vertebrae, or a broken jaw. But that doesn't mean that I, or any of my fellow teachers, remain unscarred. As one of the interviewed teachers observes, most new teachers leave the job within the first five years. It is a physically and emotionally draining profession in even the best of circumstances, when one is able to avoid being sprayed with a fire extinguisher or harassed by students who aren't supposed to be in a given class.
In a way, the stories that these teachers present are therefore atypical. After all, these men were only invited to share their stories with a national radio audience due to the extremity of their injuries. Does this render the interview irrelevant? Certainly not. The issues considered are ones of serious import to anyone interested in educational reform. The role of race in the classroom, the lack of parental and administrative support structures, the inadequacy of disciplinary systems---these are all issues about which educational reformers (even less serious ones like yours truly) have written at length. Perhaps the most fascinating section of the interview, at least to me, is when the teachers are asked to reflect on their emotional state following the incidents that led them to the hospital. The two men have very different takes on their respective situations. One is self-effacing, almost blaming himself for his inability to reach out to the kids who hurt him. He claims the initial anger he felt towards them has defused. The other teacher, whose assault case against the student in question wound up getting thrown out of juvenile court, is less sanguine. He warns us that while sensitivity and understanding are excellent ideals towards which to strive, sensitivity would not have stopped this student from punching him. That stemmed from a deeper disconnect between how teacher and student viewed their respective roles in the school power hierarchy. And this, he suggests, is a result of other broader issues, some of which is beyond the school's ability to firmly control, like teenage pregnancy, and others that it potentially could, for example the antagonism that exists between teacher and principal as well as principal and superintendent.
But throughout the interview, even as they describe the violence, the frustration, and the other burdens of teaching, there remains a hint in both men's voices of the ambiguity I felt at Underwood's graduation. The mixture of highs and lows, love and hate, that characterized my career as a science educator and those of my colleagues can be found in the stories of these teachers, who literally shed blood while trying to help their students. I think that anyone who is interested in going into teaching as a profession or simply wishes to have a deeper appreciation of the complexities involved would be well served by listening to their stories.
An archived copy of this interview can be found HERE.
Comments are open and the posting of reactions is encouraged. Can inner city schools be fixed? How can security incidents like the ones described here be effectively prevented? Are the opinions of either of the men being interviewed on point? (For that matter, are my opinions on point?!?) And what can be done to more effectively retain new teachers and prevent them from leaving, as I did, rather than staying on to fight the good fight?
(2) comments
Underwood High School's graduation was last week. I decided to attend, partly to keep my girlfriend company as she watched her senior statistics students graduate and partly because these were many students in the crowd whom I taught, either when they were freshmen, when they were juniors, or in few cases, both. They held the graduation in the same place they do every year, in a local college basketball arena, and families filled the upper deck bleachers getting ready to watch the happy seniors receive their diplomas.
The ceremony filled me with that strange mixture of pride and frustration that characterized much of my teaching career. This is fitting, since these were the first class I ever had the opportunity to teach at Underwood. We entered that building together and during the course of three years we learned from each other to varying degrees. Granted, my lessons tended more towards the academic, but I'd like to think that a few students learned more from me than how to calculate molarity or distinguish between physical and chemical changes. And I learned from them. I learned how to design engaging lessons, how to react to the unexpected, and how to maintain a veneer of calm as the world descends into madness...even if that world is only the size of a classroom.
As I sat there watching the valedictorian and the salutatorian, both of whom were A students in my chemistry class last year, deliver their speeches, there was a small part of me that wondered whether I had made the correct decision to leave the teaching profession. After all, I had taught a few really great kids! 18 of the top 25 students in the class had been in my science class at some point during their academic career, and now they were heading off to great schools like Temple, Lafayette, and the University of Pennsylvania. Here was the proof, dressed in cap and gown, that a teacher's efforts are not entirely in vain.
At the same time, however, there were reminders that not all was as it should be. A disclaimer at the bottom of the program noted that the Class of 2007 listed in the program "[did] not necessarily indicate completion of graduation requirements." And for every good student I saw taking the stage to receive their diploma, there were two or three kids who had made my life miserable on a surprisingly regular basis and who had definitely failed my class at least once. Despite the continuous reminders provided by my girlfriend (whose stories definitely merit posts of their own either on my blog or hers), my departure from Underwood had somehow led me to forget these rowdy, disruptive students who had not only refused my help, but insulted me in the process.
The point of this rambling is that even after a full year out of the classroom, teaching possesses an ambiguous emotional resonance for me, one that any discussion of teaching in the inner city is capable of evoking. Such was the case for me this afternoon when I turned on the radio to Terry Gross' unique take on the subject on today's episode of Fresh Air. Gross decided to interview two public school teachers who had both been physically assaulted in their classrooms to describe the state of education in the inner city. Both teachers were white males, veteran teachers with plenty of experience under their belts, and eminently qualified educators. And yet this wasn't enough to protect them from receiving serious injuries.
Listening to their stories, I recognized a pattern in the chaos they described outside their classrooms and could draw direct parallels to the challenges they faced getting kids to stop eating in class, turn off their iPods or CD players, and just accept the reality of the teacher's authority over them. Thankfully, none of my more outlandish tactics to accomplish these objectives landed me in the hospital with a brain injury, shattered vertebrae, or a broken jaw. But that doesn't mean that I, or any of my fellow teachers, remain unscarred. As one of the interviewed teachers observes, most new teachers leave the job within the first five years. It is a physically and emotionally draining profession in even the best of circumstances, when one is able to avoid being sprayed with a fire extinguisher or harassed by students who aren't supposed to be in a given class.
In a way, the stories that these teachers present are therefore atypical. After all, these men were only invited to share their stories with a national radio audience due to the extremity of their injuries. Does this render the interview irrelevant? Certainly not. The issues considered are ones of serious import to anyone interested in educational reform. The role of race in the classroom, the lack of parental and administrative support structures, the inadequacy of disciplinary systems---these are all issues about which educational reformers (even less serious ones like yours truly) have written at length. Perhaps the most fascinating section of the interview, at least to me, is when the teachers are asked to reflect on their emotional state following the incidents that led them to the hospital. The two men have very different takes on their respective situations. One is self-effacing, almost blaming himself for his inability to reach out to the kids who hurt him. He claims the initial anger he felt towards them has defused. The other teacher, whose assault case against the student in question wound up getting thrown out of juvenile court, is less sanguine. He warns us that while sensitivity and understanding are excellent ideals towards which to strive, sensitivity would not have stopped this student from punching him. That stemmed from a deeper disconnect between how teacher and student viewed their respective roles in the school power hierarchy. And this, he suggests, is a result of other broader issues, some of which is beyond the school's ability to firmly control, like teenage pregnancy, and others that it potentially could, for example the antagonism that exists between teacher and principal as well as principal and superintendent.
But throughout the interview, even as they describe the violence, the frustration, and the other burdens of teaching, there remains a hint in both men's voices of the ambiguity I felt at Underwood's graduation. The mixture of highs and lows, love and hate, that characterized my career as a science educator and those of my colleagues can be found in the stories of these teachers, who literally shed blood while trying to help their students. I think that anyone who is interested in going into teaching as a profession or simply wishes to have a deeper appreciation of the complexities involved would be well served by listening to their stories.
An archived copy of this interview can be found HERE.
Comments are open and the posting of reactions is encouraged. Can inner city schools be fixed? How can security incidents like the ones described here be effectively prevented? Are the opinions of either of the men being interviewed on point? (For that matter, are my opinions on point?!?) And what can be done to more effectively retain new teachers and prevent them from leaving, as I did, rather than staying on to fight the good fight?
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
The Patron Saint of Science Teachers
On those occasions when I have the chance to describe the circuitous series of events that led to my becoming a teacher, one of the more common questions that people tend to pose is whether I was dissatisfied with my eventual placement as a physical science teacher. After all, I graduated with a history degree, signed up to be a social studies teacher, and only became certified in physics after being told that there were no history positions available. Certainly, one might think that the four years of training in history and the social sciences would serve me better than a few undergraduate courses in physics and astronomy. I know I believed that initially.
But three years of teaching experience revealed that there were some definite benefits to teaching science that my summer training sessions and the study guides for standardized certification exams never mentioned. For example, unlike in history or language arts classes, high school science and mathematics assessments are heavily slanted towards questions with objectively right or wrong answers. Although the possibility exists for open-ended or essay questions, there are definite correct and incorrect ways to solve physics problems or balance a chemical equation. Grading is therefore a much more straightforward enterprise.
In addition, unlike a history teacher who might sometimes have difficulty coming up with a means of hooking students into more esoteric time periods, science teachers can always come up with some way to capture an audience's attention. Chemistry demonstrations range from the most basic baking soda and vinegar fueled demonstration to more complex decomposition or double displacement reactions (e.g. the iodine clock). Physicists possess a veritable arsenal of death defying stunts like the "Pendulum of Doom" illustrating the transformation of energy or the (CAREFUL) use of a bed of nails. Even biologists can wow an audience using a combination of live specimens and dissections.
The high school science teacher possesses a rare power that no other educator has. They are modern day magicians. Their audience consists of students, who although old enough to believe that everything has a rational explanation are not necessarily educated enough to be able to deduce it when presented with a heretofore unknown phenomenon. Arthur C. Clarke wrote that any science that was sufficiently advanced would appear to an uneducated observer as magic. The typical high school student is just on that borderline. There is still room for magic and excitement in their world. Even if advances in technology have made it more difficult to penetrate the veneer of imperturbability, they are not completely jaded. Not to someone who knows how to be equal parts educator and entertainer, scientist and showman. In short, for someone who knows how to be, for all intents and purposes, a wizard.
No one in the twentieth century epitomized this dual role better than Don Herbert, who died yesterday at the age of 89 from bone cancer. Herbert, a general science and English major, served in the army and worked at a Chicago radio station after World War II. It was while he was working in radio that he came up with the idea for a new type of science program, centered upon demonstrations and intended to educate children about basic scientific principles. He presented the idea to the local NBC television affiliate and on March 3, 1951, Don Herbert formally adopted the name that would make him famous.
He called himself Mr. Wizard.
The clip above is from 1960 or so, the old black and white version of the show that inspired people like the Invisible Dad to become interested in science. The show was broadcast until 1965, winning several awards and inspiring a slew of spin-off books and the creation of the Mr. Wizard Science Center outside of Boston.
My memories of Mr. Wizard, however, begin in the mid-1980s. The cable network Nickelodeon had recently been founded and its executives were looking for shows to fill its schedule. They asked Mr. Wizard if he would be interested in creating a modern version of his classic show. Never one to turn down a chance to further popular interest in science, he accepted. Which is how a five year old Invisible Ben got some of his first exposure to concepts like chain reactions, optical illusions, and aerodynamics.
At the time, I had no idea that the entire show was staged. It was unthinkable. Mr. Wizard was just this friendly neighborhood scientist who kept cameras around and always had an interesting, scientifically relevant demonstration to show to his junior high school aged neighbors. I was slightly disillusioned when I learned the truth...but not enough to lose my respect for Mr. Wizard. So what if the dialogue was scripted? The science was real, damnit!
Mr. Wizard's World was cancelled in 1990, but it was rerun regularly until 2000 making it Nickelodeon's longest running show. In the years that followed there would be many imitators (I'm looking at you, Bill Nye! You too, Beakman!), but all of these acknowledged their debt to Mr. Wizard. Beakman's World even featured two penguin puppets appropriately named Don and Herb. There would also be parodies. (My favorite was this gem from Jim Henson's Dinosaurs: "We're going to need another Timmy!")
But in the end, none of these could live up to the original. When I started teaching science, one of the first thing I did was visit the public library and dig up a few of Mr. Wizard's books for demonstration ideas. Given my limited budget, supermarket science along the lines of Mr. Wizard's TV show were the perfect means of approaching the difficult task of having a demonstration every day. Granted, they weren't all perfect, but they served their purpose. They helped me capture my students' attention and hopefully inspired a few of them to become even more interested in science in the future.
I think Mr. Wizard would be proud.
(0) comments
On those occasions when I have the chance to describe the circuitous series of events that led to my becoming a teacher, one of the more common questions that people tend to pose is whether I was dissatisfied with my eventual placement as a physical science teacher. After all, I graduated with a history degree, signed up to be a social studies teacher, and only became certified in physics after being told that there were no history positions available. Certainly, one might think that the four years of training in history and the social sciences would serve me better than a few undergraduate courses in physics and astronomy. I know I believed that initially.
But three years of teaching experience revealed that there were some definite benefits to teaching science that my summer training sessions and the study guides for standardized certification exams never mentioned. For example, unlike in history or language arts classes, high school science and mathematics assessments are heavily slanted towards questions with objectively right or wrong answers. Although the possibility exists for open-ended or essay questions, there are definite correct and incorrect ways to solve physics problems or balance a chemical equation. Grading is therefore a much more straightforward enterprise.
In addition, unlike a history teacher who might sometimes have difficulty coming up with a means of hooking students into more esoteric time periods, science teachers can always come up with some way to capture an audience's attention. Chemistry demonstrations range from the most basic baking soda and vinegar fueled demonstration to more complex decomposition or double displacement reactions (e.g. the iodine clock). Physicists possess a veritable arsenal of death defying stunts like the "Pendulum of Doom" illustrating the transformation of energy or the (CAREFUL) use of a bed of nails. Even biologists can wow an audience using a combination of live specimens and dissections.
The high school science teacher possesses a rare power that no other educator has. They are modern day magicians. Their audience consists of students, who although old enough to believe that everything has a rational explanation are not necessarily educated enough to be able to deduce it when presented with a heretofore unknown phenomenon. Arthur C. Clarke wrote that any science that was sufficiently advanced would appear to an uneducated observer as magic. The typical high school student is just on that borderline. There is still room for magic and excitement in their world. Even if advances in technology have made it more difficult to penetrate the veneer of imperturbability, they are not completely jaded. Not to someone who knows how to be equal parts educator and entertainer, scientist and showman. In short, for someone who knows how to be, for all intents and purposes, a wizard.
No one in the twentieth century epitomized this dual role better than Don Herbert, who died yesterday at the age of 89 from bone cancer. Herbert, a general science and English major, served in the army and worked at a Chicago radio station after World War II. It was while he was working in radio that he came up with the idea for a new type of science program, centered upon demonstrations and intended to educate children about basic scientific principles. He presented the idea to the local NBC television affiliate and on March 3, 1951, Don Herbert formally adopted the name that would make him famous.
He called himself Mr. Wizard.
The clip above is from 1960 or so, the old black and white version of the show that inspired people like the Invisible Dad to become interested in science. The show was broadcast until 1965, winning several awards and inspiring a slew of spin-off books and the creation of the Mr. Wizard Science Center outside of Boston.
My memories of Mr. Wizard, however, begin in the mid-1980s. The cable network Nickelodeon had recently been founded and its executives were looking for shows to fill its schedule. They asked Mr. Wizard if he would be interested in creating a modern version of his classic show. Never one to turn down a chance to further popular interest in science, he accepted. Which is how a five year old Invisible Ben got some of his first exposure to concepts like chain reactions, optical illusions, and aerodynamics.
At the time, I had no idea that the entire show was staged. It was unthinkable. Mr. Wizard was just this friendly neighborhood scientist who kept cameras around and always had an interesting, scientifically relevant demonstration to show to his junior high school aged neighbors. I was slightly disillusioned when I learned the truth...but not enough to lose my respect for Mr. Wizard. So what if the dialogue was scripted? The science was real, damnit!
Mr. Wizard's World was cancelled in 1990, but it was rerun regularly until 2000 making it Nickelodeon's longest running show. In the years that followed there would be many imitators (I'm looking at you, Bill Nye! You too, Beakman!), but all of these acknowledged their debt to Mr. Wizard. Beakman's World even featured two penguin puppets appropriately named Don and Herb. There would also be parodies. (My favorite was this gem from Jim Henson's Dinosaurs: "We're going to need another Timmy!")
But in the end, none of these could live up to the original. When I started teaching science, one of the first thing I did was visit the public library and dig up a few of Mr. Wizard's books for demonstration ideas. Given my limited budget, supermarket science along the lines of Mr. Wizard's TV show were the perfect means of approaching the difficult task of having a demonstration every day. Granted, they weren't all perfect, but they served their purpose. They helped me capture my students' attention and hopefully inspired a few of them to become even more interested in science in the future.
I think Mr. Wizard would be proud.
Sunday, June 03, 2007
2007 Summer Plans
Well, classes have finally wrapped up, library books are slowly being returned from my little cubicle in the history study room, and my allergies are back to their old, irritating selves. While some might chalk up the rise in temperatures to global warming and the more technically inclined will observe that the solstice has not quite arrived, I feel comfortable in claiming that summer, and its associated vacation, are finally here.
When I was working as a public school teacher I heard an old joke that said that there were three reasons that career educators stuck with the business: June, July, and August. Now that I've returned to the ivory tower, I can add most of May and the first half of September to that list thanks to the advantageous scheduling policies of the Old Ivy registrar's office. Someday, I may end up having to give up this cushy lifestyle and pursue a job that actually requires me to work throughout the entire year. Until then, I plan to make the most of my time off.
And what precisely does that entail this summer? Here are some of the high points of the Invisible Ben's summer schedule for 2007.
June 2007: Finish revising a research paper or two, attend the Underwood High School retirement dinner and graduation, celebrate the end of the school year with my girlfriend (now student-free!), play a few games of intramural softball. All of these leave just enough time for me to prepare for...
July 2007: MEINE REISE NACH DEUTSCHLAND! That's right. After sticking around the old homestead throughout most of my college career, I'm finally traveling overseas. I'm spending the month of July in beautiful Munich improving my German language skills, seeing the sights, and maybe doing some research at the Deutsches Museum. Oh, and possibly meeting up with my contact from The Sleeper Cell for some Bastille Day festivities. Given the traditionally amicable relations between the French and the Germans, I can only imagine that the celebrations will be second to none. (Paris? Pfeh!) Anyone else who happens to be in Germany or the general area of Europe is encouraged to participate as well. Just send me an e-mail and I'll let you know the details. There may also be some weekend expeditions to Prague and Salzburg in the works. I'm planning to blog as much as possible while in Europe, although reconciling my desire to communicate with the general readership of this blog with my efforts to avoid the use of English as much as possible may prove, for lack of a better word, komplizert.
August 2007: What could one possibly have to look forward to after all of the potential excitement of the Continent? Well, how about getting my wisdom teeth out? Yes, after a lot of discussion and scheduling switches, it looks like my perpendicularly impacted wisdom tooth along with 1-3 other molars will be extracted sometime in the first 2 weeks of August. I've been told that recovery will not be a walk in the park, but it is almost certainly necessary for my future dental well-being. Other than an all ice cream and pudding diet, what else is on the agenda for August? Well, my girlfriend has a professional theater gig performing in Seussical , and I've been told that I REALLY SHOULD ATTEND. So I'll probably go to that. And otherwise, I plan to figure out my schedule for the fall semester, continue practicing my German, and maybe start brainstorming my second year research paper (maybe). I may also be giving a talk at a conference in early September, which would mean that I'd need to design a PowerPoint style presentation, but I'll only learn that near the end of July.
So that's the plan for this summer. Am I missing anything important? Let me know! The comments aren't just there for show, kids!
(3) comments
Well, classes have finally wrapped up, library books are slowly being returned from my little cubicle in the history study room, and my allergies are back to their old, irritating selves. While some might chalk up the rise in temperatures to global warming and the more technically inclined will observe that the solstice has not quite arrived, I feel comfortable in claiming that summer, and its associated vacation, are finally here.
When I was working as a public school teacher I heard an old joke that said that there were three reasons that career educators stuck with the business: June, July, and August. Now that I've returned to the ivory tower, I can add most of May and the first half of September to that list thanks to the advantageous scheduling policies of the Old Ivy registrar's office. Someday, I may end up having to give up this cushy lifestyle and pursue a job that actually requires me to work throughout the entire year. Until then, I plan to make the most of my time off.
And what precisely does that entail this summer? Here are some of the high points of the Invisible Ben's summer schedule for 2007.
June 2007: Finish revising a research paper or two, attend the Underwood High School retirement dinner and graduation, celebrate the end of the school year with my girlfriend (now student-free!), play a few games of intramural softball. All of these leave just enough time for me to prepare for...
July 2007: MEINE REISE NACH DEUTSCHLAND! That's right. After sticking around the old homestead throughout most of my college career, I'm finally traveling overseas. I'm spending the month of July in beautiful Munich improving my German language skills, seeing the sights, and maybe doing some research at the Deutsches Museum. Oh, and possibly meeting up with my contact from The Sleeper Cell for some Bastille Day festivities. Given the traditionally amicable relations between the French and the Germans, I can only imagine that the celebrations will be second to none. (Paris? Pfeh!) Anyone else who happens to be in Germany or the general area of Europe is encouraged to participate as well. Just send me an e-mail and I'll let you know the details. There may also be some weekend expeditions to Prague and Salzburg in the works. I'm planning to blog as much as possible while in Europe, although reconciling my desire to communicate with the general readership of this blog with my efforts to avoid the use of English as much as possible may prove, for lack of a better word, komplizert.
August 2007: What could one possibly have to look forward to after all of the potential excitement of the Continent? Well, how about getting my wisdom teeth out? Yes, after a lot of discussion and scheduling switches, it looks like my perpendicularly impacted wisdom tooth along with 1-3 other molars will be extracted sometime in the first 2 weeks of August. I've been told that recovery will not be a walk in the park, but it is almost certainly necessary for my future dental well-being. Other than an all ice cream and pudding diet, what else is on the agenda for August? Well, my girlfriend has a professional theater gig performing in Seussical , and I've been told that I REALLY SHOULD ATTEND. So I'll probably go to that. And otherwise, I plan to figure out my schedule for the fall semester, continue practicing my German, and maybe start brainstorming my second year research paper (maybe). I may also be giving a talk at a conference in early September, which would mean that I'd need to design a PowerPoint style presentation, but I'll only learn that near the end of July.
So that's the plan for this summer. Am I missing anything important? Let me know! The comments aren't just there for show, kids!
