Urge to kill. . . rising! We can't help it. Every time we see these "people" lurking outside of banks and supermarkets, we just want to punch them in the face--especially when they have the effrontery to speak to us! Seriously, can't we shop for our milk and Twinkies in peace! Must we put up with this harrassment?
We are speaking, of course, of people who hand out free copies of the local newspaper in front of Lucky.
We don't understand it either--our reaction, that is. If a homeless person panhandles spare change, we don't get upset. We feel sympathy. We don't actually give anything, but we feel sympathy. When someone offers us a free newspaper, though, we swallow hard against the urge to garotte.
(Digression: WOS says, "I give panhandlers money!" No, Sweetie, we're talking about those people who hand out newspapers. "Oh, yeah, I want to kill them, too." EOD)
Are we enraged at the insinuation that we can't afford to buy a newspaper? Offended by the idea that, when looking at us, these people see not a reader of the New York Times but a potential subscriber to the Podunk Pennysaver? Maybe it's just an atavistic response triggered by inherent New Yorkerdom: We become uneasy in the presence of people attempting to make human contact.
Whatever the reason, paper-hawkers beware! You have been warned!
***************************************************
Consider these two phrases:
"headstrong financial risk-taking without sufficient governmental regulation"
"reckless risk-taking unrestrained by regulation"
In many ways, the second version is superior: It's more concise, obviously. And, in fact, the second version appears in today's Times ("House Approves Tougher Rules on Wall Street").
We're bothered nonetheless by the latter's alliteration. You may remember from high-school English that alliteration is a rhetorical device wherein a sound is repeated across a series of words. Specifically, this phrase employs "consonance," alliteration of a consonant sound (in this case 'r'). Repetition of a vowel sound--as in the title of today's post--is assonance.
(Digression: We're certain that "Anonymous" will interject some quibble. To forestall: we've checked. EOD)
So what's wrong with alliteration? Nothing in and of itself. Indeed, the reporter, Carl Hulse (or at any rate his editor), utilizes it in other places: "underlying Causes of the Collapse"; "Future Bailouts of Failing Businesses"--the latter a nice example of parallelism as well. Problems arise, though, when a rhetorical device draws such attention to itself that it becomes obtrusive and distracts from the story--the most important element of a news article. This might be acceptable in a piece of creative writing, but it is out of place in a front-page item.
So says the Solipsist.
Saturday, December 12, 2009
Friday, December 11, 2009
'F' for (Lack of) eFfort
'E' for effort. We've never cared for that phrase. We associate it with Rabbi S., our high-strung fifth-grade Yeshiva teacher. Any time someone would fail to achieve his (we were all boys) potential on a weekly Talmud or Hebrew grammar quiz, Rabbi S. would froth about the appalling lack of effort. We imagined the rebbe quaking over-caffeinatedly at his breakfast table, envisioning the lack of effort he was bound to confront that day.
Now a teacher, however, we appreciate his angst.
Recall our post from earlier this week, wherein we spoke of the final essay exam we administer in our class. Recall, also, that there is an official make-up exam--a second chance for those who failed or missed the exam the first time. The make-up exam was today.
The exam began promptly at 9:00, and students had three hours to compose a standard five-paragraph essay. YNSHC proctored the exam. At 9:15, one of our own students entered the classroom. A little late, sure, but not too bad: She still had two hours and forty-five minutes to write her essay. She began writing. Awhile later, she handed the essay in.
Well, maybe not "later": She handed in her essay at 9:41.
26 minutes.
Now, of course, SOME people could write a passing essay in 26 minutes. The Solipsist, for example, could pull it off. Of course, the Solipsist has two masters' degrees, has been writing for over twenty years and--oh, yes--teaches the class! He is, to be blunt, an exponentially better writer than any of the students sitting before him in the exam room. And, frankly, even he would have some difficulty writing the essay in 26 minutes.
We implored our student:
"Shorty"--her nom de nick--"are you sure you want to hand this in already?"
"Yeah, I'm done."
"But you've only been writing for 25 minutes."
"I know, but I did everything you told me to do. Can you read it?"
"No. If you hand it in, that's it. You can't redo it if I don't like it."
"Well, I did everything. I have an introduction, a thesis statement, paragraphs and a conclusion."
"OK, but is it the best work you can do? You have over two hours left to work on it."
"I know, but I think it's fine."
"You realize your whole grade depends on this?"
"I know."
"OK."
And she left. And guess what? Surprisingly enough, she actually FAILED!
Shorty is no anomaly. Every semester, we practically beg our students to take their time on this exam, to do the best they can. And every semester, a handful of students write for 20 -30 minutes and decide that they have produced a masterpiece of expository prose. Does it never occur to anyone that, if we instructors thought it only took 30 minutes to compose an essay, then we would only GIVE students 30 minutes to do it?
But of course it's not about that. It's about students caring less about their product than the teachers themselves. As a teacher, we find the hardest thing to do is to make people care. If a student would rather spend two hours doing--well, nothing overly important (or we're sure she would have mentioned it when we implored her to stay) than trying to ensure herself a passing grade, what can we do? Because the really sad thing here is that Shorty is not a bad student. We are fairly certain that, if she had taken the time to really write something, she would have produced a passing piece of work.
She did everything we told her to do? Afraid not. We told her not to leave.
Oh, PS: That student who came in and complained to us on Monday? She passed. Whew!
Now a teacher, however, we appreciate his angst.
Recall our post from earlier this week, wherein we spoke of the final essay exam we administer in our class. Recall, also, that there is an official make-up exam--a second chance for those who failed or missed the exam the first time. The make-up exam was today.
The exam began promptly at 9:00, and students had three hours to compose a standard five-paragraph essay. YNSHC proctored the exam. At 9:15, one of our own students entered the classroom. A little late, sure, but not too bad: She still had two hours and forty-five minutes to write her essay. She began writing. Awhile later, she handed the essay in.
Well, maybe not "later": She handed in her essay at 9:41.
26 minutes.
Now, of course, SOME people could write a passing essay in 26 minutes. The Solipsist, for example, could pull it off. Of course, the Solipsist has two masters' degrees, has been writing for over twenty years and--oh, yes--teaches the class! He is, to be blunt, an exponentially better writer than any of the students sitting before him in the exam room. And, frankly, even he would have some difficulty writing the essay in 26 minutes.
We implored our student:
"Shorty"--her nom de nick--"are you sure you want to hand this in already?"
"Yeah, I'm done."
"But you've only been writing for 25 minutes."
"I know, but I did everything you told me to do. Can you read it?"
"No. If you hand it in, that's it. You can't redo it if I don't like it."
"Well, I did everything. I have an introduction, a thesis statement, paragraphs and a conclusion."
"OK, but is it the best work you can do? You have over two hours left to work on it."
"I know, but I think it's fine."
"You realize your whole grade depends on this?"
"I know."
"OK."
And she left. And guess what? Surprisingly enough, she actually FAILED!
Shorty is no anomaly. Every semester, we practically beg our students to take their time on this exam, to do the best they can. And every semester, a handful of students write for 20 -30 minutes and decide that they have produced a masterpiece of expository prose. Does it never occur to anyone that, if we instructors thought it only took 30 minutes to compose an essay, then we would only GIVE students 30 minutes to do it?
But of course it's not about that. It's about students caring less about their product than the teachers themselves. As a teacher, we find the hardest thing to do is to make people care. If a student would rather spend two hours doing--well, nothing overly important (or we're sure she would have mentioned it when we implored her to stay) than trying to ensure herself a passing grade, what can we do? Because the really sad thing here is that Shorty is not a bad student. We are fairly certain that, if she had taken the time to really write something, she would have produced a passing piece of work.
She did everything we told her to do? Afraid not. We told her not to leave.
Oh, PS: That student who came in and complained to us on Monday? She passed. Whew!
Thursday, December 10, 2009
What Would Emily Post Do?
The Solipsist loves e-mail. The perfect form of long-distance communication, it combines the immediacy provided by the telephone with the opportunity for reflection provided by old-fashioned letters. You can think about what you want to say, write it, edit it, and fire it off into cyberspace. Your correspondent receives the communication instantly but without the interruption of a ringing phone; she can then read your message and take the time to compose a thoughtful response--or set it aside until later. Perfect!
But then there's "chat"--the dark side of e-mail--the evil twin of its long-form cousin. Because if you're not in the mood to chat, and a friend bings you, pings you, bloops you--what are you supposed to do? With a phone call, if you don't want to talk, you can always claim to be "right in the middle of something"--dinner, laundry, sex, whatever--and get off the phone. But when you're on Facebook or its ilk and someone toodles you, you can't very well claim to be doing anything important; you're on Facebook for Christ's sake! "Hi, great to see you, but I can't chat right now. I'm finishing the 'Which Brady Are You?' quiz. What do you know, I'm Jan!"
When we began writing this, we worried about offending those Sloppists who have, in fact, mooped us on Facebook. But then we realized, they probably think the same thing about us. After all, we're not only on the receiving end of chat requests. Just this afternoon, we were proctoring an exam in an overheated classroom. We were ready to pass out, but thankfully, there was a computer to keep us occupied. We went on Facebook and found a couple of friends online. And whether they were ready or not, we qwertled them.
They were, of course, polite. We couldn't know for sure, though, whether they were playing along, waiting for the opportunity to claim that a loved one had just that instant returned from Iraq and so they had to scoot. Not that we took offense; we totally understand where they're coming from.
So here's what's needed: an acceptable procedure for declining a chat session when you obviously don't have anything better to do. (Yes, we know you can change your privacy settings so that you won't show up as online, but that's cheating!) Speaking personally, we hereby declare that if you are on Facebook and are floopsied by the Solipsist, you can, without fear of offending, simply say that you are not available to chat. We understand.
Now, if you'll excuse us, we're right in the middle of something. . . .
But then there's "chat"--the dark side of e-mail--the evil twin of its long-form cousin. Because if you're not in the mood to chat, and a friend bings you, pings you, bloops you--what are you supposed to do? With a phone call, if you don't want to talk, you can always claim to be "right in the middle of something"--dinner, laundry, sex, whatever--and get off the phone. But when you're on Facebook or its ilk and someone toodles you, you can't very well claim to be doing anything important; you're on Facebook for Christ's sake! "Hi, great to see you, but I can't chat right now. I'm finishing the 'Which Brady Are You?' quiz. What do you know, I'm Jan!"
When we began writing this, we worried about offending those Sloppists who have, in fact, mooped us on Facebook. But then we realized, they probably think the same thing about us. After all, we're not only on the receiving end of chat requests. Just this afternoon, we were proctoring an exam in an overheated classroom. We were ready to pass out, but thankfully, there was a computer to keep us occupied. We went on Facebook and found a couple of friends online. And whether they were ready or not, we qwertled them.
They were, of course, polite. We couldn't know for sure, though, whether they were playing along, waiting for the opportunity to claim that a loved one had just that instant returned from Iraq and so they had to scoot. Not that we took offense; we totally understand where they're coming from.
So here's what's needed: an acceptable procedure for declining a chat session when you obviously don't have anything better to do. (Yes, we know you can change your privacy settings so that you won't show up as online, but that's cheating!) Speaking personally, we hereby declare that if you are on Facebook and are floopsied by the Solipsist, you can, without fear of offending, simply say that you are not available to chat. We understand.
Now, if you'll excuse us, we're right in the middle of something. . . .
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Politically Incorrect
45 Park Place stands two blocks north of Ground Zero. On the morning of September 11, 2001, it was a Burlington Coat Factory. That morning, as the staff sat around the basement, eating breakfast, preparing to open, an airplane's landing gear crashed through two of the store's upper floors. The store never reopened, and the building remained vacant for the next eight years.
In July, however, the building was bought by a group of Muslims led by Imam Feisal Abdul Rauf, a moderate Sufi cleric known for "preaching tolerance and interfaith understanding" ("Muslim Prayers and Renewal Near Ground Zero"). Imam Feisal and his followers see this as the first step in creating an Islamic cultural center near the World Trade Center memorial site--a concrete symbol of reconciliation for New York City and the United States.
By all accounts, Imam Feisal is sincere in his commitment to interfaith dialogue and mending rifts between Muslims and other Americans. Prominent rabbis and other members of Jewish and Christian organizations--as well as the FBI--speak highly of the Imam and celebrate his efforts.
And still. . .
At the risk of sounding terribly intolerant, we found ourselves upset by this news. The first word that popped into our minds was "colonization." We know this is irrational--in the most literal sense of that word: There is no reason for these feelings; they are completely the product of gut-level emotion. We know--we KNOW--that most Muslims are closer in attitude to Imam Feisal than to Mullah Omar or Osama bin Laden. We personally know many members of the Islamic faith and have had nothing but positive--or, at worst, neutral--encounters with them. And a white, American male complaining about Muslims "colonizing" America--even if only in the privacy of his own knee-jerk thoughts. . . . Well, let's just say that somewhere a kettle is screaming about accused blackness.
It wasn't a Muslim who referred to the Solipsist as "a Jew" last week.
Is it possible we are not as liberal as we thought?
We wish Imam Feisal luck in his endeavors. We hope that he and like-minded figures of all social and religious backgrounds succeed in getting us back to--and beyond--the relatively tolerant mindset that prevailed on September 10, 2001. Because if our own reaction is any indication, he will need all the luck he can get.
In July, however, the building was bought by a group of Muslims led by Imam Feisal Abdul Rauf, a moderate Sufi cleric known for "preaching tolerance and interfaith understanding" ("Muslim Prayers and Renewal Near Ground Zero"). Imam Feisal and his followers see this as the first step in creating an Islamic cultural center near the World Trade Center memorial site--a concrete symbol of reconciliation for New York City and the United States.
By all accounts, Imam Feisal is sincere in his commitment to interfaith dialogue and mending rifts between Muslims and other Americans. Prominent rabbis and other members of Jewish and Christian organizations--as well as the FBI--speak highly of the Imam and celebrate his efforts.
And still. . .
At the risk of sounding terribly intolerant, we found ourselves upset by this news. The first word that popped into our minds was "colonization." We know this is irrational--in the most literal sense of that word: There is no reason for these feelings; they are completely the product of gut-level emotion. We know--we KNOW--that most Muslims are closer in attitude to Imam Feisal than to Mullah Omar or Osama bin Laden. We personally know many members of the Islamic faith and have had nothing but positive--or, at worst, neutral--encounters with them. And a white, American male complaining about Muslims "colonizing" America--even if only in the privacy of his own knee-jerk thoughts. . . . Well, let's just say that somewhere a kettle is screaming about accused blackness.
It wasn't a Muslim who referred to the Solipsist as "a Jew" last week.
Is it possible we are not as liberal as we thought?
We wish Imam Feisal luck in his endeavors. We hope that he and like-minded figures of all social and religious backgrounds succeed in getting us back to--and beyond--the relatively tolerant mindset that prevailed on September 10, 2001. Because if our own reaction is any indication, he will need all the luck he can get.
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
A Brief Post, in Which We Take Solipsist Nation to Task
And, yes, we think we're changing your name from "Sloppists" (which, let's face it, never really caught on) to "Solipsist Nation." It works for the Red Sox.
But to the point: We post our blog on the Facebook application "Networked Blogs." Consequently, we receive occasional updates about Networked Blogs happenings. Well, today, someone was bragging about how they now had 50,000 followers on Facebook.
50,000!!!
Now, math has never been our strong suit, but we suspect that this is significantly more than 13.
You folks need to start spreading the word. How are we to realize our messianic aspirations with a scant 13 followers? (Sure, Jesus managed with only 12, but we, like the Beatles, are bigger than Jesus!)
(Digression: Consider that out remembrance of John Lennon, murdered 30 years ago today. RIP, John. EOD)
It's not that difficult, though. We just need to start thinking exponentially. If each current member of the Nation recruits a mere five people into the fold, and each of THOSE five recruits another five, we'll hit 50,000 followers in a mere six to seven iterations!
Show that Solipsistic spirit, folks! Get cracking!
But to the point: We post our blog on the Facebook application "Networked Blogs." Consequently, we receive occasional updates about Networked Blogs happenings. Well, today, someone was bragging about how they now had 50,000 followers on Facebook.
50,000!!!
Now, math has never been our strong suit, but we suspect that this is significantly more than 13.
You folks need to start spreading the word. How are we to realize our messianic aspirations with a scant 13 followers? (Sure, Jesus managed with only 12, but we, like the Beatles, are bigger than Jesus!)
(Digression: Consider that out remembrance of John Lennon, murdered 30 years ago today. RIP, John. EOD)
It's not that difficult, though. We just need to start thinking exponentially. If each current member of the Nation recruits a mere five people into the fold, and each of THOSE five recruits another five, we'll hit 50,000 followers in a mere six to seven iterations!
Show that Solipsistic spirit, folks! Get cracking!
Monday, December 7, 2009
A Mea Culpa and a Roll of the Eyes
Last week, the Solipsist administered an exam in his writing class. This department-wide essay exam is the equivalent of the final. The writing teachers give the test about two weeks before semester's end so that we can offer a make-up exam to those who are absent or who fail the test the first time.
As department chair, the Solipsist distributes the exams to the writing faculty. Unfortunately, after handing out the exams, we realized we had inadvertently given out the make-up exam to most--but not all--of the instructors.
Now, in terms of screw-ups, this is pretty minor. The way the tests are constructed, it doesn't matter whether students receive the intended exam topics or the make-up topics. Both versions provide a choice of two topics on which to write; furthermore, the writing teachers develop prompts on topics general enough for anybody to write about based on personal experience. In this case, the original exam featured questions about jobs and communities, and the make-up featured questions about stress and goals. Obviously, once the mistake was realized, we just decided to use the original topics for the make-up exam: No harm, no foul.
Well, almost.
Recall that we said SOME instructors got the "correct" version of the exam. In addition, some copies of the "correct" version went to the office for students with disabilities for students who take the exam there (generally because they receive additional time for the exam). Today, one of these students, who had failed, came to protest. She was upset that she had received a different exam than her classmates, especially because her classmates had received an "easier" question; if she could have answered one of those questions, she surely would have passed.
On the face of it, she has a point: She did not have the same opportunity as her classmates. So we listened patiently and explained that we understood how she felt; however, we couldn't give her a passing grade just because she "could have" passed with a different topic. We assured her that any number of students who failed the other version of the test would (and do) make the same argument--that they could have passed with a different set of topics. Furthermore, we explained to her that she would have the opportunity to take the make-up and, indeed, she would have the opportunity to write an essay on the apparently "easier" topic.
Here comes the eye-roll.
"Well, I don't think I should have to take the make-up because now I'm so stressed out that I can't write a passing essay on this topic."
We nodded sympathetically and referred her to the dean.
So what's the point of the story? We know students are stressed out by exams, and we know people will seek out any advantage they can get. We almost admire this student's tenacity; it could serve her well if channeled in the right direction. But we also despair that people put so much energy into protesting a decision, rather than towards more constructive ends. If this lady puts half as much creativity into her exam as she does into finding reasons why she shouldn't have to take it, she will find herself happy at the end of the make-up--unless she's upset that she has nothing to complain about.
As department chair, the Solipsist distributes the exams to the writing faculty. Unfortunately, after handing out the exams, we realized we had inadvertently given out the make-up exam to most--but not all--of the instructors.
Now, in terms of screw-ups, this is pretty minor. The way the tests are constructed, it doesn't matter whether students receive the intended exam topics or the make-up topics. Both versions provide a choice of two topics on which to write; furthermore, the writing teachers develop prompts on topics general enough for anybody to write about based on personal experience. In this case, the original exam featured questions about jobs and communities, and the make-up featured questions about stress and goals. Obviously, once the mistake was realized, we just decided to use the original topics for the make-up exam: No harm, no foul.
Well, almost.
Recall that we said SOME instructors got the "correct" version of the exam. In addition, some copies of the "correct" version went to the office for students with disabilities for students who take the exam there (generally because they receive additional time for the exam). Today, one of these students, who had failed, came to protest. She was upset that she had received a different exam than her classmates, especially because her classmates had received an "easier" question; if she could have answered one of those questions, she surely would have passed.
On the face of it, she has a point: She did not have the same opportunity as her classmates. So we listened patiently and explained that we understood how she felt; however, we couldn't give her a passing grade just because she "could have" passed with a different topic. We assured her that any number of students who failed the other version of the test would (and do) make the same argument--that they could have passed with a different set of topics. Furthermore, we explained to her that she would have the opportunity to take the make-up and, indeed, she would have the opportunity to write an essay on the apparently "easier" topic.
Here comes the eye-roll.
"Well, I don't think I should have to take the make-up because now I'm so stressed out that I can't write a passing essay on this topic."
We nodded sympathetically and referred her to the dean.
So what's the point of the story? We know students are stressed out by exams, and we know people will seek out any advantage they can get. We almost admire this student's tenacity; it could serve her well if channeled in the right direction. But we also despair that people put so much energy into protesting a decision, rather than towards more constructive ends. If this lady puts half as much creativity into her exam as she does into finding reasons why she shouldn't have to take it, she will find herself happy at the end of the make-up--unless she's upset that she has nothing to complain about.
Sunday, December 6, 2009
And General Petraeus Is from "Call of Duty"
Today we had planned a stirring entry on split infinitives. Alas, we will have to temporarily postpone that posting. The following simply cannot wait.
Faithful Sloppists have no doubt noticed that we have installed a poll (look to the right), soliciting feedback on our layout. Now, as of this writing, no one has chosen option three. We know you're holding back--too polite to make demands of your favorite blogger--but we also know that you are waiting, hoping, praying for the moment when we will overcome our inexplicable reticence and address the burning issue that is Tiger Woods.
Sloppists, your wait is over.
Frankly, we must admit that we were reluctant to address the issue, not knowing what we could add to the debate.
(Digression: DOS made an interesting observation about the Woods imbroglio. To paraphrase: "I keep hearing about how much trouble Tiger Woods is in. He's got millions of dollars and at least three gorgeous women chasing after him. I should have such trouble!" EOD.)
At any rate, we're glad we waited because, after what we've seen today, we realize that anything we could have said would be superfluous. If you haven't seen this video yet, check it out.
Admittedly, the language barrier is a problem, but we think we get the gist. This Taiwanese news site has broken the Woods story wide open! As near as we can tell, the report is telling us that Woods and his wife are actually characters in the popular "Grand Theft Auto" franchise. Wishing to become real--apparently to get freaky with some red-carpet hottie--Woods took off in his car. His wife's avatar quickly equipped "golf club," causing plus-20 damage to Woods' luck, charisma, and profitability.
There you have it folks. We may have to give up our dream of being the web's primary source for investigative journalism: The Taiwanese do it so much better.
***********************************************
The Solipsist would like to welcome our newest follower, Catswing. Apparently, she's a Japanese blogger who's trying to improve her English, and she's chosen our humble blog as a source for her continued inspiration and education. Or something like that.
Catswing, we'll have you referring to yourself in the first-person plural in no time. Welcome!
Faithful Sloppists have no doubt noticed that we have installed a poll (look to the right), soliciting feedback on our layout. Now, as of this writing, no one has chosen option three. We know you're holding back--too polite to make demands of your favorite blogger--but we also know that you are waiting, hoping, praying for the moment when we will overcome our inexplicable reticence and address the burning issue that is Tiger Woods.
Sloppists, your wait is over.
Frankly, we must admit that we were reluctant to address the issue, not knowing what we could add to the debate.
(Digression: DOS made an interesting observation about the Woods imbroglio. To paraphrase: "I keep hearing about how much trouble Tiger Woods is in. He's got millions of dollars and at least three gorgeous women chasing after him. I should have such trouble!" EOD.)
At any rate, we're glad we waited because, after what we've seen today, we realize that anything we could have said would be superfluous. If you haven't seen this video yet, check it out.
Admittedly, the language barrier is a problem, but we think we get the gist. This Taiwanese news site has broken the Woods story wide open! As near as we can tell, the report is telling us that Woods and his wife are actually characters in the popular "Grand Theft Auto" franchise. Wishing to become real--apparently to get freaky with some red-carpet hottie--Woods took off in his car. His wife's avatar quickly equipped "golf club," causing plus-20 damage to Woods' luck, charisma, and profitability.
There you have it folks. We may have to give up our dream of being the web's primary source for investigative journalism: The Taiwanese do it so much better.
***********************************************
The Solipsist would like to welcome our newest follower, Catswing. Apparently, she's a Japanese blogger who's trying to improve her English, and she's chosen our humble blog as a source for her continued inspiration and education. Or something like that.
Catswing, we'll have you referring to yourself in the first-person plural in no time. Welcome!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)