Comedy (3rd 300 word post for the week)

Yeesh. I wasn't certain I was going to get this one in on time, and the standing rule is that if I don't, nobody else has to. Dratted rules and accountability.

We're...I'm using comedy in the classroom this semester. In the past I've worked with hands-on (rather than text-bound) research and community service requirements both as ways of digging into a project-based course. I'm a firm believer in active pedagogy and project-based learning so I'm always looking for new ideas that help us get into the material.

This semester, I've built my 101 around "Beg, Borrow, and Steal" as an active and project-based way of putting plagiarism into (and hopefully out of) action. One of tools I'm using to get into that idea is comedy.

For me, comedy is one of the great unifiers. Although we don't all have the same sense of humor (please, oh please, spare me another minute of the Three Stooges in this lifetime), chances are good that given an assortment to choose from, everyone can find something that generates at least a giggle. I'll confess to preferring over-the-top word play and physical comedy to the more subtle choices, by the way. Give me Wallace and Grommit, Shaun the Sheep (both Aardman), or a Christopher Guest movie (A Mighty Wind is my favorite) and I'm a happy girl.

Here's something interesting I observed, though. For all of our adult (and forgive me, my students, because in this moment I mean "adult" as over 30 because we're your educators and parents and thus see ourselves in the role of shaping your lives. Hubris anyone?) assumptions about the current generation of traditionally-aged students, one thing I've learned is this:

Walter Matthau in Bad News Bears was right about that "assume" thing.

For the first comedy-based assignment, I posted 5 clips starting with Abbot and Costello and ending with Eddie Izzard for my students to interact with. I assumed, foolishly, that the entire class would gravitate toward the Eddie Izzard; that it would be the hands-down favorite. I was wrong.

It turns out that young, contemporary audiences still like The Three Stooges, and that Monty Python's Dead Parrot sketch is a classic no matter who is watching it. Once again, I find I've done my students a disservice by assuming that they're interested only in what is now and immediate. That by failing to acknowledge that they more complex than the media or my colleagues make them out to be, I am no better than the media or my colleagues. And for this I am apologetic and appalled. I can own this.

The good part, however, is I like that I'm constantly learning from them, even when it means my assumptions were dead wrong. I can own this, too.

We watched the Marx Brothers in "Duck Soup" last week. Next week, we're watching a more contemporary movie. I'm looking forward to reading what they have to say about the movies. I expect I'll be surprised, enlightened and, yeah, amused.

Because They Make Me Happy

One of my required topics is on why we wear shoes.

Allow me to confess now that some of the prompts are intentionally ridiculous, silly, or simply intended to provide an unexpected starting point. This would be one of them.

I have, in my closet back in Michigan, somewhere between 75 and 120 pair of shoes. Most of them are kitten-heeled, sequinsed, beribboned and utterly frivolous. One pair looks a bit like this, except in purple:

I wear them because they make me smile.

If you know me in my New York life, you would assume that my shoe collection consists of Keens, Uggs, Birkenstocks, snow boots and a lovable pair of leather flip-flops. This is because most of the time, unless I'm in my office, I'm actually wearing them. They look something like this:

That's the problem with my excellent shoes--I don't actually wear them for longer than it takes to walk from one room to the next. Mostly, they're for display purposes only. I do enough walking these days that I can't wear display shoes--they have to be practical. This makes me sad. Maybe I should go shoe shopping.

I just realized that I forgot the last, and most important, piece of this post on shoes. I'm lusting after these:

I'm too active in the classroom actually teach in them, but they'd sure look nice on the floor next to my desk and would definitely add some style to the jeans-and-cardigan combinations that I usually wear in the winter. Right?

Wordless

Last week, I ran out of words. It's the only possible explanation for why I didn't get my posts done, my assignments written, my presentation started or any of the other word-based things that needed to be completed.

I hate it when I run out of words. No words, no job. No job, no rent money. No rent money, no place to live. No place to live, no electricity. No electricty, no coffee. No coffee, I'm doomed. I guess I need to figure out where my words went.

I just had a conversation with one of my tutors about setting and meeting standards, and how I can't name a standard and expect my students and my staff to meet it if I'm not willing to live up to it myself.

Darn it.

Derby Car, Part II

When we left off, the Jedi Starspeeder was still in its rough cut stage. Fortunately, Commuter Dad was in town this weekend and he and the boy got the car into racing shape.

Here, the sanding is finished, the paint is on, and we're ready to work on the legal specifications.




First, it was time to add some weight. Derby cars can weigh a maximum of 5 ounces, and the builder's goal is to get the car as close to that 5 ounce cap as possible.

Although we had some fancy weights, we opted to use quarters. Each slot has two quarters that have been hot-glued into place.







This is a high-temp mini hot-glue gun. It gets quite hot.

Here, I'm holding a chunk of aloe
vera plant on my burnt fingers.

Success: 4 7/8 ounces

Our pilot is an ice Ninja. Several Jedi, both Lego and action figure, tried out for the slot, but the were all too tall to fit comfortably, especially after we added the canopy.





And finally, here's our Jedi Starspeeder, ready for the Pinewood Derby. We're all pretty happy with it. I'll let you know how the race goes.

10 years from now

My ten years in the future looks something like this:

I have completed my dissertation, and am thenceforth known as "Dr. Commuter Mom" because I will insist on full use of my title by everyone. Including my kid.

I have also walked away from academia to pursue my other love, which is pretending I'm a decent cook. I have also, in this imaginary future, rediscovered a passion for gardening, and this passion has resulted in a most excellent kitchen garden where I grow most of the stuff for my job.

What job, you ask? I have had an ongoing fantasy: a tamale van. Keep in mind that I'm originally from Texas, the land of tamale vans. For the uninitiated, a tamale van is a regular van, usually painted white and usually with the word "Tamales" painted on the side with red paint that is flaking off in places. Next to the tamale van is an Hispanic woman, usually built a lot like I am. She is the tamaleria, or tamale-maker, and her wares are sold by the dozen in brown paper bags that are dripping grease. Sometimes she has a rump-sprung lawn chair, the metal legs hot from the Texas sun, where she waits for customers. But either way, the tamaleria is a fixture; the proof that these are home-made tamales that could be yours for $3.

I can definitely see myself, ten years in the future, driving around the country with a van full of tamales. My son will be off at college, so I won't need to be home in time to make dinner. And if I get hungry? Heck-I'll have a van full of tamales. Life will be good.

Review (300)

My second post for the week is the blog review. Since I have the plague, and it is making me miserable, I'm going to go easy on myself by reviewing "Hyperbole and a Half" because it is entertaining and thus easy to work with.

My first experience with Allie Brosh's blog was this post: http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/2010/04/alot-is-better-than-you-at-everything.html. The English teacher in me fell in love with the grammar-based humor and the gentle lesson inherent in the silliness.

However, English teacher is only a small part of my persona. My well-developed sense of the goofy absurd is much more prevalent in my day-to-day interactions in most realms of my existence, and it is to that part that the majority of her posts speak.

That humor is in strong evidence here: http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/2010_12_01_archive.html. Much like the Eddie Izzard Star Wars Canteen piece, this one brings me to incoherent tears of laughter. Also like the Eddie Izzard piece, it is situated around canonical irreverance that I find absolutely irresistible though I know there are some who would be horrified by both.

Derby Car, Part I

The Beginning

As I've mentioned previously, Pinewood Derby cars start out as blocks of wood, just like that one. The kit does include wheels and nails, and those vague instructions. Everything else is up to the scout and his parent.
Next: The Design
My scout is a fan of Star Wars. I could write multiple entries about his level of fandom, but I'll spare you beyond a mention that, on the corkboard in my office is my official Jedi Knight certificate. My scout also has one; we earned them by attending Star Wars camp this summer.

Needless to say, he wants his Derby car to be made in the image of a Delta-7 Jedi Starfighter (I just checked with him to make sure I got the name right).

Part 3: The First Cut
I know nothing of woodworking. Nothing. I've watched craftsmen turn table legs on old PBS shows, but that didn't translate into any kind of knowledge. The first drag of the blade across wood was far more intimidating that I expected. I think part of it was the fear that if I blew it, it was over and there would be no Derby for us this year. Yes, I know, we could wander over to the Scout store and get another one, but logic has no place in a discussion of fear.
It turns out that not only do coping saws only cut in one direction, but that their thin blades get wedged into the wood. Here, I'm shaking the saw trying to loose the wood so that I can finish cutting in the rear rocket boosters.













Rough Cut
This is the basic shape of our Jedi Starfighter/Pinewood Derby car. I did have to saw more of a point into the front, and my scout has started sanding it.

Next, we'll need to get a circular drill/saw to cut in the cockpit, paint, put on wheels and other refinements. For tonight, though, I'm just glad we made it this far.