Truth in Advertising

The man on the infomercial for the Bosley hair replacement system said that, before turning to Bosley, he had tried "literally everything" to combat his hair loss.  "Literally everything"?  Really?  Even otter snot?

Inquiry

"Nice to meet you, Ms. Smith."

"It's Dr. Smith, actually.  I have a PhD."

"Oh, sorry.  Dr. Smith. . . . What's your doctorate in?"

"Nursing."

"You have a doctorate in nursing?"

"Yes."
". . .And, you don't see a problem with this?"

Pep Talk

To be addressed to students before they take a major exam:

"As you write your essays, we would remind you of this: Philosophers have speculated that, if an infinite number of monkeys are seated at an infinite number of typewriters, then, given enough time, one of them will 'accidentally' write Hamlet.  So, y'know, you've got to figure that you've all got at least a shot at passing this test.  Unless of course you don't think you can write better than some random monkey.  You have two hours.  Go."

A Couple of Random Thoughts for Wednesday

While he has virtually no chance of securing the Republican nomination and less chance of winning the presidency, we are confused by even the minimal enthusiasm Herman Cain's campaign has generated.  His supporter seems to base this enthusiasm on Cain's business success.  But how impressed can anyone be with his business acumen when he couldn't even beat out his business competitors--and these competitors included Domino's!
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Something you don't want to hear from your computer tech-guy:

"Wow.  I've never seen THAT before!"

Advice for Young Teachers

Awhile back, we came to a shattering realization: We are no longer a "young teacher."  No longer--if ever--the "subject of schoolgirl fantasies," we need not implore young co-eds not to stand so close to us, as they show no inclination to do so.  Taking lemons and making lemonade, though, we choose to accentuate the positive and mix metaphors freely along the way.  Not being a young teacher, you see, gives us disposition to write sage columns with portentous titles like "Advice for Young Teachers."

Herewith, the first installment:

For far too long, we thought the best way to engage students was to come across as friendly, non-threatening, easy-going.  Indeed, we still project an aura of casual, easy-goingness.  In the past, though, we extended this mild-mannered attitude to our practices when it came to homework.  Specifically, while we have always assigned deadlines for student papers and other homework, we would always be willing to extend the deadlines if students pleaded ignorance or overwork or the ubiquitous dying grandmother.  After all, we reasoned, the important thing is that the students did the work, even if it reached us a bit later than we would have desired. This brings us to our first piece of advice:

DON'T BE AFRAID TO BE A DICK

If an assignment has a deadline, stick to that deadline.  Accept no excuses.  Our simple policy, stated on the first day of class, is as follows: Assignments are due when they are due.  We allow students to hand things in one "class" late (for a significant reduction in grade).  If the late work is not ready to be handed in at the beginning or the class after the stated due-date, it is not accepted.  Period.  Students will protest.  Students will plead.  Students will call you a dick (usually behind your back, but who knows).  Stick to your rules.

If you let students hand in late work, they will simply do it again and again.  And it's really not fair.  It's not fair to the students who did the work on time.  It's not fair to students in your other classes, whose work may be neglected if you're too busy grading late work.  Most importantly, it's not fair to you.  You've got enough to do.  And, as we explain to our students, you have satisfied your obligation by stating your deadlines clearly and returning student work in a timely manner.  You have no need to extend yourself further for students who care less about their work than you do.

As for the whole "dick" thing: If it makes you feel any better, a lot of these students think you're a dick no matter what.  You might as well earn it.

One Cheeseburger, Hold the Hitler

The other night we were polishing our lamp (NOT a euphemism) when suddenly, out of a huge and aromatic plume of smoke, there appeared an extremely well-dressed man.  Classy looking.  Like Cary Grant might look if he wore clothes.  We knew where this was heading.

"Greetings, Solipsist!  We come to grant you three wishes!"

"Oh, great!"

"You don't seem happy."

"Why should we be?  These things never turn out well."

"Oh, pish posh!"

"'Pish posh'?  Really?  Look, if 'The Twilight Zone' has taught us anything, it's that, when it comes to making wishes, no matter how careful you are, you always end up Hitler."  (Actually, now that we think about it, maybe that's how Hitler got started.)

"What's the deal with you genies anyway," we continued.  "You know, we were just minding our own business--cleaning YOUR house, by the way--and you come along with your 'three wishes' offer.  We get it, OK.  Your point is that people should be satisfied with what they have, and that a desire for more--especially when unearned through effort--is unseemly and warrants punishment.  But we weren't LOOKING for wishes.  We were just polishing our lamp."

"Hm!  Is THAT what they're calling it these days?"

"Hey!  Not a euphemism, buddy!"

"So, Solipsist, are you saying you don't want your wishes?"

"Hell, yeah, we want our wishes.  What do we look like?"  So we thought about if for a few minutes.  "OK, we think what gets people into trouble is they wish for something grand.  Maybe the trick is just to keep one's wishes simple."  We looked at the genie.

"Mm.  Could be."

"OK.  Um. . . OK, here we go!  We wish for a juicy bacon cheeseburger.  And we don't want to be Hitler!  And we don't want the burger to be Hitler.  Or WOS!  You can't make WOS into Hitler!"

"Is that your first wish?"

"Uh. . .  let's see. . . bacon cheeseburger, no Hitler. . . .Yeah!"

"A la Peanut Butter Sandwiches!!!!"

And there it was, in our hands, a big, juicy bacon cheeseburger. . . .that tasted approximately like 14th-century Europe.

"AAAAAAUUUUUUUUGH!  What did you do to us?"

"Well you didn't't say anything about the taste. . . "

"Make it go away!  Make it go away.  Make.  It.  Go.  Away!"

"Is that your second wish?"

"Whatever!"

"A la Peanut Butter Sandwiches!!!!"

And with that, the awfulness was gone.  The genie was smirking.  We got the point.  Nothing good was ever going to come from wishing.

"Third wish, Solipsist?"

"Oh, no!  You know what, never mind.  We don't want to turn into Hitler or accidentally blow up Sweden or swallow a bug. . . .Y'know what our third wish is?  We wish we had never met YOU!"

And before "sandwiches" had finished echoing in the room, the genire was gone, and all was as it had been before.  Ultimately, we learned a valuable lesson and ended up not much worse for wear.  Now, if you'll excuse us, we have to go shave this moustache before anybody sees it.

Money Spent Unwell

In today's news-that-should-come-as-a-surprise-to-no-one, we read that an Arizona school district has discovered that lavish spending on technological frippery does not translate automatically into higher test scores.  Next thing you know, Arizonans will figure out that desert living makes you thirsty!

Why do people persist in considering technology the answer to all our nation's educational woes?  Wishful thinking, we suppose.  After all, software programs don't unionize (unless those "Terminator" movies were right).  And presumably, in the long run, educational software is cheaper than flesh-and-blood teachers.  Except when you have to make upgrades.  Never mind.

The truly infuriating thing is that, while this Arizona district--and presumably similar districts across the country--are seeking millions of taxpayer dollars to ensure a steady supply of iPad apps, teachers whose salaries range from the low to mid-five figures, must take on second jobs at strip malls to make ends meet and pay out of their own pockets for less flashy classroom equipment--like pencils and paper.

Maybe if the money spent on the latest edu-craze went instead to improving teachers' quality of life--enabling them, for example, to spend the time on students that they currently devote to menial second jobs--maybe this would actually result in concrete improvement to those all-important test scores everybody keeps fretting over.

The raw materials of our students' success are already in the classroom, and they are flesh-and-blood, not silicon and code.