The online learning department at my school is very student-centered, which is nice. BUT--I got an e-mail over the weekend from the instructional designer assigned to my class, saying she hadn't noticed any activity on my course site and that she assumes I've been working on the course in a development shell. She said that even though classes begin next week, students have access to the course sites starting today, and I should have some content up there for them.
Bwahahaha. No. And again, NO. I refuse.
Classes are not for another six days. I just finished the summer classes. If this course was a face-to-face one, they'd have to wait for the first day of class to get the syllabus and all the course info. There's no reason to have anything up early.
So take that, Online Learning. I am not starting the fall term until the fall term starts.
Monday, August 25, 2008
Saturday, August 23, 2008
In Search of Mercy Hazen
Last weekend Eldest Daughter and I went to the New England Geneological Society for some family tree research. We are trying to document one of our family lines that goes back to the Mayflower. We've got five generations accounted for, and Mercy Hazen's birth record, but we are trying to find proof of her marriage, death, and children. Looks like we will have to take a road trip to Carmel, NY to look at their records.
It was a fun, nerdy, geeky day--topped by the distinct pleasure of seeing a Revolutionary War re-enactment complete with cannons and musket fire. We hadn't brought our cameras and so our pictures are from cell phone cameras, but didn't turn out too badly. I tried to capture the smoke ring from a perfect cannon firing. You have to look hard to see it, but it's there. That was very, very cool. You can also hear a gentleman explaining what we were seeing, and how the Americans and British loaded their muskets.
British soldiers waiting for the signal to advance
Kaboom!
The smoke ring is right at the beginning
More kaboom!
The Colonials capture the cannon! Huzzah!
Uh, oh--flanked!
The Colonials were outnumbered, despite having captured the cannon. The American and British commanders agreed on a truce and the ragtag Colonials left the field after a rousing Huzzah for Continental Congress President John Hancock. All in all, a very fun day (especially because we know who won the war). No taxation without representation!
It was a fun, nerdy, geeky day--topped by the distinct pleasure of seeing a Revolutionary War re-enactment complete with cannons and musket fire. We hadn't brought our cameras and so our pictures are from cell phone cameras, but didn't turn out too badly. I tried to capture the smoke ring from a perfect cannon firing. You have to look hard to see it, but it's there. That was very, very cool. You can also hear a gentleman explaining what we were seeing, and how the Americans and British loaded their muskets.
British soldiers waiting for the signal to advance
Kaboom!
The smoke ring is right at the beginning
More kaboom!
The Colonials capture the cannon! Huzzah!
Uh, oh--flanked!
The Colonials were outnumbered, despite having captured the cannon. The American and British commanders agreed on a truce and the ragtag Colonials left the field after a rousing Huzzah for Continental Congress President John Hancock. All in all, a very fun day (especially because we know who won the war). No taxation without representation!
Friday, August 22, 2008
Growing up is hard for parents, too
This past month I've been blessed to spend some time with both Eldest Daughter and Son, both of whom live too very far away. I'd hoped to get a chance to spend more time with Son, who lives farthest away of all, but it doesn't look like that's going to be possible and that makes me sad.
I was a stay-at-home mom for most of their lives, and frankly I loved it and miss it. Even the bad parts, mostly because the bad parts were far outweighed by the good parts. The worst thing about having them so far away is that when they are upset or worried or happy or excited I can only send virtual hugs and not real ones. So when I'm with them I'm always hugging and touching and kissing heads and rubbing arms and scratching backs because I have to make up for all the times I couldn't do that. They are smart and independent and absolutely delightful and I miss them terribly.
Youngest Daughter is preparing to finish up her high school studies so she can leave for college, also somewhere far away. We are doing SAT vocabulary drills (third time I've been through this, I ought to have a GREAT vocabulary by now!) and have planned the school year out to make sure she has everything she needs. She reminds me at least twice a day that she is leaving me soon and that I should appreciate her while she is here because she knows how much I miss her sister and brother, and how painful it's going to be to have her far away too.
I've been reading articles on higher ed sites about how difficult it is for women in academia, especially if they have children. One article in particular generated a lot of comment, many by men who took the position that women should realize they can't have it all, and many by women who were incensed at that thought (also at the way it was expressed). I started to write a comment but stopped because I realized that anything I said would be misconstrued and taken as an attack on feminism or some such twaddle (note: I do NOT identify as a feminist for many reasons, none of which are relevant here).
The first thing that struck me about the comments was that several women characterized having children as a burden and a problem. If you feel that way, why have them? The other thing that bugged me was the typical focus on early childhood, as if once children outgrow day care and nannies they don't need adult attention or supervision. I had a discussion once with a colleague who was pregnant. I told her that infancy was probably the easiest time of a child's life; once they got into school, when day care doesn't take them any more, you have to deal with after-school care, with snow days and teacher conference days and sick days and spring recess. Not to mention soccer practice, music lessons, birthday parties, dentist visits, hair cuts, allergy shots, and that's just the supervision part. That's not helping with homework, listening to complaints about teachers, mediating neighborhood fights, consoling the one not invited to the birthday party or the junior prom. Well, Colleague got huffy with me as if I was somehow clueless about parenting and after three kids still had no idea that the most important thing of all was good day care. Of course, five years later she came up to me and said that now she understood.
My days as a stay-at-home mom were fragmented as I tended to the kids' needs. My days as a professor are still fragmented by parental responsibilities. There are SATs to get ready for, and math classes and piano lessons to coach my daughter through. We're still doing the allergy shot thing. YD doesn't drive yet (even if she did, there's no money for a car for her) and I will have to transport her to work and school and shots and music lessons. That takes time and energy that I could use to further my career. But it's a time-limited thing; over by next summer, and then I'll be missing YD as she goes on to college.
The sky-high expectations and pressures of the tenure track are hard on everyone who wants to have a life outside work, not just moms and dads. I don't know how to fix that problem. I do know that we have to prioritize things and, sometimes, adjust our own expectations and aspirations in order to reach as many of our long-term goals as possible. Is it possible to "have it all"? Maybe, for some. Maybe sometimes we have to redefine what "all" is.
I was a stay-at-home mom for most of their lives, and frankly I loved it and miss it. Even the bad parts, mostly because the bad parts were far outweighed by the good parts. The worst thing about having them so far away is that when they are upset or worried or happy or excited I can only send virtual hugs and not real ones. So when I'm with them I'm always hugging and touching and kissing heads and rubbing arms and scratching backs because I have to make up for all the times I couldn't do that. They are smart and independent and absolutely delightful and I miss them terribly.
Youngest Daughter is preparing to finish up her high school studies so she can leave for college, also somewhere far away. We are doing SAT vocabulary drills (third time I've been through this, I ought to have a GREAT vocabulary by now!) and have planned the school year out to make sure she has everything she needs. She reminds me at least twice a day that she is leaving me soon and that I should appreciate her while she is here because she knows how much I miss her sister and brother, and how painful it's going to be to have her far away too.
I've been reading articles on higher ed sites about how difficult it is for women in academia, especially if they have children. One article in particular generated a lot of comment, many by men who took the position that women should realize they can't have it all, and many by women who were incensed at that thought (also at the way it was expressed). I started to write a comment but stopped because I realized that anything I said would be misconstrued and taken as an attack on feminism or some such twaddle (note: I do NOT identify as a feminist for many reasons, none of which are relevant here).
The first thing that struck me about the comments was that several women characterized having children as a burden and a problem. If you feel that way, why have them? The other thing that bugged me was the typical focus on early childhood, as if once children outgrow day care and nannies they don't need adult attention or supervision. I had a discussion once with a colleague who was pregnant. I told her that infancy was probably the easiest time of a child's life; once they got into school, when day care doesn't take them any more, you have to deal with after-school care, with snow days and teacher conference days and sick days and spring recess. Not to mention soccer practice, music lessons, birthday parties, dentist visits, hair cuts, allergy shots, and that's just the supervision part. That's not helping with homework, listening to complaints about teachers, mediating neighborhood fights, consoling the one not invited to the birthday party or the junior prom. Well, Colleague got huffy with me as if I was somehow clueless about parenting and after three kids still had no idea that the most important thing of all was good day care. Of course, five years later she came up to me and said that now she understood.
My days as a stay-at-home mom were fragmented as I tended to the kids' needs. My days as a professor are still fragmented by parental responsibilities. There are SATs to get ready for, and math classes and piano lessons to coach my daughter through. We're still doing the allergy shot thing. YD doesn't drive yet (even if she did, there's no money for a car for her) and I will have to transport her to work and school and shots and music lessons. That takes time and energy that I could use to further my career. But it's a time-limited thing; over by next summer, and then I'll be missing YD as she goes on to college.
The sky-high expectations and pressures of the tenure track are hard on everyone who wants to have a life outside work, not just moms and dads. I don't know how to fix that problem. I do know that we have to prioritize things and, sometimes, adjust our own expectations and aspirations in order to reach as many of our long-term goals as possible. Is it possible to "have it all"? Maybe, for some. Maybe sometimes we have to redefine what "all" is.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
The Traveling Professor goes to Israel--Day VII
Our last full day in Israel came way too soon. We were scheduled to have dinner with the caretaker couple in the evening, and we had to get ready for the long trip home on Sunday, so we knew we couldn't spend a lot of time sightseeing. We decided to drive across the northern Galilee to the Mediterranean coast and visit Arbel on the way back.
The guidebook warned against women, even in groups, going to the old city of Acre so we headed a little north of Acre to Nahariyah instead. Our drive took us past Safed where something was going on that required a police presence at one of the major intersections. No one bothered us, though, so we kept on going. On the way, we took advantage of wide spots in the road to take photos of the ever-amazing vistas.
We spotted an interesting structure on the roadside and stopped to investigate. YD read in the guidebook that Safed has a lot of Kabbaleh practitioners, so we figured it was some sort of Kabbaleh shrine. It had beautiful paintings of scrolls on the columns.
Northern Galilee is forested and in some parts looks amazingly like the Adirondacks, except for the vineyards.
Outside Hurfeish, a very charming town, we spotted some caves in the cliffs. Youngest Daughter wanted to hike to them but we deferred that to another trip, preferably one not in the middle of a desert summer.
Nahariyah is a gorgeous little town, and it was an absolutely gorgeous day. The Mediterranean was incredibly blue, and YD lamented that she hadn't brought her bathing suit. So we walked out on a pier and waited for a big wave to come along and soak her. Wait for it....wait for it...wait for it...Aha!
YD was soaked all down the back. Good thing it was a hot day and she dried off pretty fast!
We hopped back in the car and headed back to the Galilee. This time we drove through the Har Meron reserve, where we saw more incredible vistas that reached all the way east to the Sea of Galilee.
We also spotted a really interesting traffic circle en route to Arbel.
Arbel is half a mountain; separated from its other half by an earthquake, this towering cliff overlooks the town of Migdal and the Sea of Galilee. We drove up its southwestern slope past caves, fields and farmland; one newly plowed field was perched almost on the top of the plateau.
From the summit of Arbel you can look down on the Galilee and the surrounding towns. The view is awesome, the wind fierce. A lone carob tree stands at the top of the mountain, thriving in spite of the wind and heat.
Coming down from Arbel marked the end of our Israel trip. We had seen so much, but there was so much more to see.
The guidebook warned against women, even in groups, going to the old city of Acre so we headed a little north of Acre to Nahariyah instead. Our drive took us past Safed where something was going on that required a police presence at one of the major intersections. No one bothered us, though, so we kept on going. On the way, we took advantage of wide spots in the road to take photos of the ever-amazing vistas.
We spotted an interesting structure on the roadside and stopped to investigate. YD read in the guidebook that Safed has a lot of Kabbaleh practitioners, so we figured it was some sort of Kabbaleh shrine. It had beautiful paintings of scrolls on the columns.
Northern Galilee is forested and in some parts looks amazingly like the Adirondacks, except for the vineyards.
Outside Hurfeish, a very charming town, we spotted some caves in the cliffs. Youngest Daughter wanted to hike to them but we deferred that to another trip, preferably one not in the middle of a desert summer.
Nahariyah is a gorgeous little town, and it was an absolutely gorgeous day. The Mediterranean was incredibly blue, and YD lamented that she hadn't brought her bathing suit. So we walked out on a pier and waited for a big wave to come along and soak her. Wait for it....wait for it...wait for it...Aha!
YD was soaked all down the back. Good thing it was a hot day and she dried off pretty fast!
We hopped back in the car and headed back to the Galilee. This time we drove through the Har Meron reserve, where we saw more incredible vistas that reached all the way east to the Sea of Galilee.
We also spotted a really interesting traffic circle en route to Arbel.
Arbel is half a mountain; separated from its other half by an earthquake, this towering cliff overlooks the town of Migdal and the Sea of Galilee. We drove up its southwestern slope past caves, fields and farmland; one newly plowed field was perched almost on the top of the plateau.
From the summit of Arbel you can look down on the Galilee and the surrounding towns. The view is awesome, the wind fierce. A lone carob tree stands at the top of the mountain, thriving in spite of the wind and heat.
Coming down from Arbel marked the end of our Israel trip. We had seen so much, but there was so much more to see.
Our visit was during the heat of summer. My mother wants to see the land in bloom, and although professors don’t get vacations in April, I’m already planning a way to carve out five or six days to take her there. If there’s time, I need to finish what we started at Yad Vashem. I didn’t see the Jordan River or the villages on the western banks of the
I have to go back.
Monday, August 18, 2008
The Traveling Professor goes to Israel--Day VI
Our original intention was to get up before dawn and drive to Masada early enough in the morning to beat the heat and hike the infamous Snake Path to the top of the mountain. We soon realized that we couldn't deal with the hot weather and the length of the hike, and opted to take the cable cars instead. While I was riding up in the cars I was watching the hikers--and all the stairs!-- on the Snake Path and decided we made the right choice. Mom stayed down at the visitor center; she's been to Masada before, and didn't want to deal with the blast furnace at the top of the mountain.
Youngest Daughter and I brought along the umbrella to shade us from the fierce sun but that was not enough to make things bearable for her, at least. I was pretty comfortable (considering) thanks to the tropical weight pants and Cobber I bought at www.tilley.com. Still, it was plenty hot even with the occasional stiff breeze coming off the Dead Sea.
From the cable cars, you can see the remains of three Roman camps at the base of the mountain. It's an amazing sight, and it must have been terribly frightening for the Zealots trapped on the plateau.
We wandered through the Commander's residence, where bits of the colorful frescoes remain on the walls. A black line marks the height of the walls before restoration work began on the complex. Without that line it would be difficult to tell what was original and what was rebuilt.
A model of the complex sits under a tent in the area where the commander would have worked, near the administration building. Once we got past the huge group of Spanish tourists we got a nice picture of the model. It clearly shows all the buildings covered with a roof, which would have blocked the sun while allowing the breezes in, and probably make the heat bearable.
The Roman camps on the west side of the mountain are huge; they must have been imposing sights for the defenders. I couldn't help wondering, looking at the camps and the still-impressive siege ramp, how the Zealots must have felt watching that ramp getting bigger and bigger, knowing it would spell their doom.
Below: The bath house; the place where the ostraca (lots) were found; the synagogue; the Byzantine church; Masada shall not fall again.
We took the cable cars back down and met up with Mom in the gift shop (of COURSE we had to go to the gift shop!). Then we headed north toward Ein Gedi.
The Dead Sea is a beautiful deep blue--and it is also warm and slimy. YD went swimming in it at the Ein Gedi beach, bobbing around in the mineral-rich waters until she couldn't take the slimy feel of it any more. I picked up some rocks off the beach for souvenirs and they were so hot they burned my palm. Mom put a couple in her pants pocket and they were burning her through the pocket material.
The pictures below are of salt deposits that have built up on the rocks and on the lifeguards' boat.
The beach has showers set up at several different points so people can wash the slime off. I stuck my hand in the water as YD was rinsing off, because the rocks I'd picked up were slimy too.
We expected the area around the Dead Sea to be, well, dead. But we saw fields of date palms on either side of the highway. Oh, and we saw the expected caves and camels, too.
We decided not to attempt driving up the Jordan Valley to Tiberias, so we went back to Route 6 and headed north from there. I wanted to get back to the retreat house before Shabbos started, when it would be difficult to get food and gasoline.
Back at the house finally, we showered, threw some laundry in, and made reservations for dinner at a restaurant in Tiberias. While we waited to go to dinner, we made friends with a local resident. Well, we tried to make friends; he didn't seem so happy about making our acquaintance.
We treated the retreat house caretakers to a wonderful Israeli Chinese dinner at The House restaurant and then fell gratefully into bed.
Next installment: The Mediterranean, Nahariyah, and Arbel.
Youngest Daughter and I brought along the umbrella to shade us from the fierce sun but that was not enough to make things bearable for her, at least. I was pretty comfortable (considering) thanks to the tropical weight pants and Cobber I bought at www.tilley.com. Still, it was plenty hot even with the occasional stiff breeze coming off the Dead Sea.From the cable cars, you can see the remains of three Roman camps at the base of the mountain. It's an amazing sight, and it must have been terribly frightening for the Zealots trapped on the plateau.
We wandered through the Commander's residence, where bits of the colorful frescoes remain on the walls. A black line marks the height of the walls before restoration work began on the complex. Without that line it would be difficult to tell what was original and what was rebuilt.
A model of the complex sits under a tent in the area where the commander would have worked, near the administration building. Once we got past the huge group of Spanish tourists we got a nice picture of the model. It clearly shows all the buildings covered with a roof, which would have blocked the sun while allowing the breezes in, and probably make the heat bearable.
The Roman camps on the west side of the mountain are huge; they must have been imposing sights for the defenders. I couldn't help wondering, looking at the camps and the still-impressive siege ramp, how the Zealots must have felt watching that ramp getting bigger and bigger, knowing it would spell their doom.
Below: The bath house; the place where the ostraca (lots) were found; the synagogue; the Byzantine church; Masada shall not fall again.
We took the cable cars back down and met up with Mom in the gift shop (of COURSE we had to go to the gift shop!). Then we headed north toward Ein Gedi.
The Dead Sea is a beautiful deep blue--and it is also warm and slimy. YD went swimming in it at the Ein Gedi beach, bobbing around in the mineral-rich waters until she couldn't take the slimy feel of it any more. I picked up some rocks off the beach for souvenirs and they were so hot they burned my palm. Mom put a couple in her pants pocket and they were burning her through the pocket material.
The pictures below are of salt deposits that have built up on the rocks and on the lifeguards' boat.
The beach has showers set up at several different points so people can wash the slime off. I stuck my hand in the water as YD was rinsing off, because the rocks I'd picked up were slimy too.
We expected the area around the Dead Sea to be, well, dead. But we saw fields of date palms on either side of the highway. Oh, and we saw the expected caves and camels, too.
We decided not to attempt driving up the Jordan Valley to Tiberias, so we went back to Route 6 and headed north from there. I wanted to get back to the retreat house before Shabbos started, when it would be difficult to get food and gasoline.
Back at the house finally, we showered, threw some laundry in, and made reservations for dinner at a restaurant in Tiberias. While we waited to go to dinner, we made friends with a local resident. Well, we tried to make friends; he didn't seem so happy about making our acquaintance.
We treated the retreat house caretakers to a wonderful Israeli Chinese dinner at The House restaurant and then fell gratefully into bed.
Next installment: The Mediterranean, Nahariyah, and Arbel.
Monday, August 11, 2008
The Traveling Professor goes to Israel--Day V
How shall we sing the LORD's song in a strange land? If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget her cunning. If I do not remember thee, let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth; if I prefer not Jerusalem above my chief joy. Psalm 137:4-6 (KJV)We started off our first full day in Jerusalem with a complementary breakfast which we ate in record time because our tour was leaving 20 minutes earlier than originally scheduled. We boarded the minibus and met our guide, Tzur, who explained that his name was Hebrew for "granite" and we should therefore call him "Rocky." We also met a trauma psychologist from Vancouver who was in Israel for a conference. We struck up a conversation and had a great time talking with her. She and I would look at each other at different sites on the tour and just say "Wow"--because there were just no other words for what we were seeing.
The tour started out by winding its way through Western Jerusalem picking up other people who were going on the tour. That took us past the Knesset building and Hebrew University's campus. The first place we stopped for pictures was the top of Mount Scopus (the site of Hebrew University's other campus) where we got our first panoramic view of the city. The photo at the top of the page was taken from this point.
We wound our way down the Mount of Olives, past the Church of All Nations, and around the wall with its stones dating to Herod's time.
We arrived at the Zion Gate, where Rocky showed us the hot oil shower designed to repel invaders, and began our tour of the Old City. The first "WOW!" point was the remains of the Roman Cardo, the main street of 2nd century Jerusalem (shown in the center of the reproduction of a 6th century mosaic--sadly, someone spray-painted the mosaic). Several Corinthian columns and a section of the original paving were excavated after the 1967 war that reunited Jerusalem.
Our next "Wow" stop was the Western Wall, or Kotel. We passed through security and came out to an incredible, breathtaking sight.
Men were praying on the left, women on the right, and under the umbrellas--bar mitzvahs, and girls standing on tiptoes and chairs, cheering on the boys and throwing candy. Rocky told us we had ten minutes at the Wall, and we, along with several other women, walked over to the womens' side. We hurriedly passed around pens and small pieces of paper to write our prayers on. Mom and I went to a spot near the dividing line, laid our folded papers on a small ledge, put our hands on the ancient stones and prayed. It was an intense, emotional experience.
Leaving the Wall, we wound our way through the narrow streets lined with shops to the Via Dolorosa. We stopped at a chapel for the 9th station where Jesus fell for the third time.
Exactly at noon we were standing in front of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre.
The Church was full of people and it was difficult to move or get pictures because of the crowds. The most impressive thing, to me, was the Anointing Stone near the entrance. Tradition says this stone is where Jesus' body was prepared for burial. People were caressing the stone, and leaning over to kiss it.
After lunch at a falafel shop Rocky led us out of the city back to the Zion Gate (with a brief stop to buy a T-shirt for Son), and we parted ways. The tour group was going on to Bethlehem, and we went in search of Oskar Schindler's grave in the Mount Zion cemetery. Rocky kindly found us a guide to take us there, as we never would have found it by ourselves. By this time, it was 1:4o p.m., and the guide said the cemetery closes at 1:30. He said if the gate was open, we could give him something for taking us there but if it was closed, he wouldn't charge us. It was hot, there were lots of stairs, Mom's knee was acting up--so he patiently waited for us and asked questions about why we were in Israel, whose idea it was to come, where were our husbands, etc.
The cemetery gates were still open and we found Schindler's grave. We left stones on the tomb, paid the guide, and made our way back out of the cemetery.
Just as we had rested and rehydrated enough to go in search of a taxi to take us to Yad Vashem, one appeared at the cemetery gates. The driver offered to wait for us as we toured the museum. We managed about 90 minutes before it all became too much. The museum is a comprehensive collection of the horrors of the Holocaust and the world's indifference to what was going on.
The driver took Mom back to the hotel and drove Youngest Daughter and I to get our money exchanged and then to the Mount of Olives bazaar to do some shopping. I got a nice menorah, some ceramic saucers for our Jesus lamps, and a spoon for Eldest Daughter. I was going to get an olivewood rosary for my sister-in-law, but the shop only had them in groups of a dozen. I couldn't figure out what I would do with eleven olivewood rosaries, so I passed.
We had the driver leave us at the Zion Gate, and we retraced our steps to the shops lining the streets in the Jewish quarter. There we got more T-shirts, a prayer shawl, a small shofar, and YD bought a bracelet and a walking stick. We got fairly good at bartering and withstanding the hard sell of some merchants anxious to make a sale at the end of a long day.
Our water was long gone so we stopped at a stall on the way out of the City to buy some more bottled water. YD mentioned that the shopkeeper looked like someone she knew, and he replied that was the first time he'd heard such a thing--in a distinctively American accent. I asked where he was from, and he replied "A little village called Chicago." I told him I was from a littler village in New York State, and he cried, "We're neighbors!" YD asked what brought him to Jerusalem, and he said that he came ten years ago and couldn't find his way back out again. "They kept telling me to go straight, but I've been here a decade and haven't found a straight street yet!" We laughed and told him we knew exactly what he meant.
Next installment: Masada and the Dead Sea
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