Let me reiterate: I didn't buy it. A relative bought a fake Vuitton (two, actually, one for me and one for Miss Em) in Chinatown. We thanked the relative profusely and never used them.
Now that I'm pretending to declutter, these are on the chopping block. But what to do? There are plenty of people frequenting thrift stores who would love to carry an LV, real or fake. I'd be happy to let them have the bag.
There are also plenty of people who would BUY the fake bag and sell it as authentic on Ebay, local consignment, or similar. I do not want to be part of the process.
There is also the possibility that the thrift shop would put a large price on these bags and get it. In fact, I've seen this happen. The customers were ecstatic and the thrift store got some dough. I'm not too thrilled with being part of this process either.
So...what do you advise? I was thinking of defacing the bags, by writing REPLICA on the INSIDE with magic marker. I fear the ethical path would involve cutting them to bits with scissors.
Fake Bag Anecdote. One of my students was carrying a Chanel bag. She showed it to me. Figuring that she knew it was a replica, I remarked that it looked real. This was a booboo. I thought she would know. She got very huffy and told me that TINY TOWN, Louisiana got ALL the "seconds" of Chanel bags direct from France. She said she had paid $40 for the bag and showed me a certificate declaring authenticity in several languages. She said she happened to have put a good deal of study into the bag. She was getting really angry at me.
Since I didn't want this episode to appear on "Rate My Professor," I said, "Wow. You are really lucky!"
Again, dear readers, I await your words of wisdom.
Showing posts with label Teachers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Teachers. Show all posts
Sunday, 5 April 2015
Saturday, 14 March 2015
Back to School: Frugal Bliss
I've been off in my still-frugal universe. My colleague Merton (still teaching at 72) and I were discussing financial issues. I told him that he can probably loosen up and spend more. To which with characteristic Zen wisdom he replied: "Frugality is my life." Selfishly, I don't WANT Merton to retire. He is my only frugal colleague and he is a good mentor to me.
Aside from being back AT school, I have gone in a sense back to school. In addition to practicing my French via Duolingo, though I have been rather a slacker at that of late, I have been blissing out at Yale. That is, at the FREE Yale on-line courses.
This seems to have been an idea that came and went, since all the courses were posted in 2005 or thereabouts. If you bliss out taking in an excellent academic lecture: here is your chance. So far, I have watched courses on the Old Testament and the New Testament. It is easy enough to read the primary texts under discussion.
Even if you think these will be boring, based on your memories of college days, give them a try. I am a way better student now than I was then. There are quite a few available, by the way.
I am really dying to watch/listen to a good art history course. Does anyone know of one?
Any other good courses available?
Aside from being back AT school, I have gone in a sense back to school. In addition to practicing my French via Duolingo, though I have been rather a slacker at that of late, I have been blissing out at Yale. That is, at the FREE Yale on-line courses.
This seems to have been an idea that came and went, since all the courses were posted in 2005 or thereabouts. If you bliss out taking in an excellent academic lecture: here is your chance. So far, I have watched courses on the Old Testament and the New Testament. It is easy enough to read the primary texts under discussion.
Even if you think these will be boring, based on your memories of college days, give them a try. I am a way better student now than I was then. There are quite a few available, by the way.
I am really dying to watch/listen to a good art history course. Does anyone know of one?
Any other good courses available?
Friday, 12 December 2014
Class Consciousness at the Thrift Store: Was I Out of Line with the Chevron Peeps?
Between end of the semester stress (still have much grading to do) and the constant temptations of holiday shopping, I needed---surprise--a trip to the thrift store. As is my new wont, I went to the Food Bank Thrift because it is only about a 3 minute drive from my house. It is also the thrift store that attracts the poorest demographic and, indeed, many customers have vouchers from the Food Bank across the street.
The overworked and harried workers! They are understaffed and the donations are piling up inside, outside, everywhere.
Today the workload was--presumably--eased by the presence of three youngish volunteers. They were in the back. As far as I could tell (the door was open), they were engaged in a gab fest and not doing anything else. The subject of the gabfest was how much money they made working for Chevron, how great their retirement and other benefits were, how it was good to look for romance within the company because women who learned you worked for Chevron would be after your money, and on and on. Their entitled voices carried through the small store.
How nice of Chevron to let them volunteer at the thrift store during their paid work hours! What wonderful community relations!
Two of the fellows emerged from the back and entered the store. And--I JUST HAD TO SAY SOMETHING. So I put on my teacher voice and said "I think it's really nice that Chevron is sending you here to do volunteer work for the community. But it is insensitive and hurtful to discuss your fabulous salaries and benefits in loud voices that are heard by the customers, many of whom do not shop here by choice."
The two Mr Chevrons looked chastened. I said I wasn't trying to be mean, but to alert them to the fact that they may have been inadvertently insensitive. (Perhaps I was trying to be a LITTLE MEAN.)
Then I left. I wonder what they said after I was out the door.
Was I out of line? What would you do?
The overworked and harried workers! They are understaffed and the donations are piling up inside, outside, everywhere.
Today the workload was--presumably--eased by the presence of three youngish volunteers. They were in the back. As far as I could tell (the door was open), they were engaged in a gab fest and not doing anything else. The subject of the gabfest was how much money they made working for Chevron, how great their retirement and other benefits were, how it was good to look for romance within the company because women who learned you worked for Chevron would be after your money, and on and on. Their entitled voices carried through the small store.
How nice of Chevron to let them volunteer at the thrift store during their paid work hours! What wonderful community relations!
Two of the fellows emerged from the back and entered the store. And--I JUST HAD TO SAY SOMETHING. So I put on my teacher voice and said "I think it's really nice that Chevron is sending you here to do volunteer work for the community. But it is insensitive and hurtful to discuss your fabulous salaries and benefits in loud voices that are heard by the customers, many of whom do not shop here by choice."
The two Mr Chevrons looked chastened. I said I wasn't trying to be mean, but to alert them to the fact that they may have been inadvertently insensitive. (Perhaps I was trying to be a LITTLE MEAN.)
Then I left. I wonder what they said after I was out the door.
Was I out of line? What would you do?
Monday, 9 June 2014
Where are the pickers of yesteryear: Naomi
Ah, mixed feelings here. I met Naomi at a yard sale in Bloomington. I arrived on foot (since I had no car), started chatting with Naomi, a woman about 15 years my senior. She ended up giving me a ride home. In fact, she started taking me to sales with her on weekends.
It says something about me that I still remember two things I bought at that sale: a large woven bedspread and some fabric to cover the seat of a Queen Anne-style chair. I have both even now.
Naomi was radical politically. She had many left-wing bumper stickers plastered on her car, eliciting honks, wild hand gestures, and sometimes near collisions from the conservative drivers of the area. She was an eccentric personally. She was divorced. Her former husband was Greek and had taught in the law school. When democracy was restored in Greece, he returned to a government post. Even though he no longer had a legal obligation, he sent Naomi a check every month. Their kids were gone: the son was in college and the daughter was a dancer in Europe.
She also got money from her family. Her father had been a rather prominent architect in New York City. Her widowed mother was in poor health and lived in a big apartment on the Upper West Side. Her mother gave her extravagant gifts: a small Rembrandt etching, beautiful jewelry, and many objets. She would occasionally drag something to an antique dealer when she needed money.
She lived in a beautiful old house, decorated with remnants of her former life (elegant Danish modern furniture) and funked up with eccentric finds. As I recall, the living room was shiny black and red. She said "I only like junk now." She had a fabulous eye and was an excellent artist.
Her live-in boyfriend, Jim, was about my age. He was getting a PhD in astronomy. He slept all day and worked on his thesis all night. Occasionally, he would come greet us when we returned from a yard sale. He would always wear a brocade robe supplied by Naomi.
Well, Naomi was a little crazy at times and became totally obsessive about finding things to resell (which she learned about from yours truly). So obsessive was she that instead of consigning at the Eye of Osiris (where she also started working), she opened her own store. She did almost no business because she priced everything too high. She also befriended a waif, who repaid her kindness by robbing the store.
One day she turned to me in the car. She said, "All the women in my family are self-destructive. Don't be like me. You need to finish your thesis."
She was right. She was--with great kindness and perhaps even with some love--telling me to end my relationship with her. She knew I was easily distracted from my work. Our weekend jaunts ended. I got a teaching job. I never saw her again after I left that summer. I am so grateful to her: she pushed me to my true vocation.
It says something about me that I still remember two things I bought at that sale: a large woven bedspread and some fabric to cover the seat of a Queen Anne-style chair. I have both even now.
Naomi was radical politically. She had many left-wing bumper stickers plastered on her car, eliciting honks, wild hand gestures, and sometimes near collisions from the conservative drivers of the area. She was an eccentric personally. She was divorced. Her former husband was Greek and had taught in the law school. When democracy was restored in Greece, he returned to a government post. Even though he no longer had a legal obligation, he sent Naomi a check every month. Their kids were gone: the son was in college and the daughter was a dancer in Europe.
She also got money from her family. Her father had been a rather prominent architect in New York City. Her widowed mother was in poor health and lived in a big apartment on the Upper West Side. Her mother gave her extravagant gifts: a small Rembrandt etching, beautiful jewelry, and many objets. She would occasionally drag something to an antique dealer when she needed money.
She lived in a beautiful old house, decorated with remnants of her former life (elegant Danish modern furniture) and funked up with eccentric finds. As I recall, the living room was shiny black and red. She said "I only like junk now." She had a fabulous eye and was an excellent artist.
Her live-in boyfriend, Jim, was about my age. He was getting a PhD in astronomy. He slept all day and worked on his thesis all night. Occasionally, he would come greet us when we returned from a yard sale. He would always wear a brocade robe supplied by Naomi.
Well, Naomi was a little crazy at times and became totally obsessive about finding things to resell (which she learned about from yours truly). So obsessive was she that instead of consigning at the Eye of Osiris (where she also started working), she opened her own store. She did almost no business because she priced everything too high. She also befriended a waif, who repaid her kindness by robbing the store.
One day she turned to me in the car. She said, "All the women in my family are self-destructive. Don't be like me. You need to finish your thesis."
She was right. She was--with great kindness and perhaps even with some love--telling me to end my relationship with her. She knew I was easily distracted from my work. Our weekend jaunts ended. I got a teaching job. I never saw her again after I left that summer. I am so grateful to her: she pushed me to my true vocation.
Thursday, 15 May 2014
Grading, Grading: Grossly Material Things
I sometimes think that as there are stages of grief, there are stages of grading. Sadly, I often forget this and experience the stages anew each semester. Grading is a difficult task, at least for English teachers, who grade essays and papers and don't just run some multiple choice exam through a scantron machine.
First stage: irritation. Why do so many students hand things in late? Why do so many students hand in bunches of loose sheets. I have more than 100 students: try dealing with all that paper!!!
Second stage: anger. Why didn't those students listen? Why didn't they do the reading? Why didn't they read my email?
Third stage: empathy. This is evoked by all students, but most especially mine. I used to teach at a private college. In 1988, the median income of student families was $80,000/year. I now teach at a state college, where many students have their own families, jobs, and serious money issues. Not to say that my affluent students didn't have emotional and other problems. My current students have those too. But they also have financial issues that are often overwhelming.
So as always, frequent meltdowns. One student--a mother of 4--had her husband ask for a divorce right before finals (I recommended the counseling center and gave her a hug). Another student broke down and mentioned that a relative had been a victim of horrific violence (same response as to student above). Another student sent an email about a severe medical problem that would make her late for the final. She wasn't supposed to drive, but ended up driving herself since no one else was around.
And those are just the students who tell me what's up. Most do not. Yes, I know that students will lie about disasters for various reasons (though the ones mentioned above are all true events). And that doesn't even account for students working 30 or more hours a week to support themselves, while they are supposed to be full-time students.
I read that one value of reading literature is that it helps us develop empathy. Click the link to the left for an array of articles on that topic. I have always been a reader and, of course, I've been teaching literature for many years now. And, teaching at my current place of employ, I am reminded often of Virginia Woolf's wise words, which remind us that material things can keep us from doing what we're supposed to be doing.
I asked myself; for fiction, imaginative work that is, is not dropped like a pebble upon the ground, as science may be; fiction is like a spider’s web, attached ever so lightly perhaps, but still attached to life at all four corners. Often the attachment is scarcely perceptible; Shakespeare’s plays, for instance, seem to hang there complete by themselves. But when the web is pulled askew, hooked up at the edge, torn in the middle, one remembers that these webs are not spun in mid-air by incorporeal creatures, but are the work of suffering human beings, and are attached to grossly material things, like health and money and the houses we live in.
First stage: irritation. Why do so many students hand things in late? Why do so many students hand in bunches of loose sheets. I have more than 100 students: try dealing with all that paper!!!
Second stage: anger. Why didn't those students listen? Why didn't they do the reading? Why didn't they read my email?
Third stage: empathy. This is evoked by all students, but most especially mine. I used to teach at a private college. In 1988, the median income of student families was $80,000/year. I now teach at a state college, where many students have their own families, jobs, and serious money issues. Not to say that my affluent students didn't have emotional and other problems. My current students have those too. But they also have financial issues that are often overwhelming.
So as always, frequent meltdowns. One student--a mother of 4--had her husband ask for a divorce right before finals (I recommended the counseling center and gave her a hug). Another student broke down and mentioned that a relative had been a victim of horrific violence (same response as to student above). Another student sent an email about a severe medical problem that would make her late for the final. She wasn't supposed to drive, but ended up driving herself since no one else was around.
And those are just the students who tell me what's up. Most do not. Yes, I know that students will lie about disasters for various reasons (though the ones mentioned above are all true events). And that doesn't even account for students working 30 or more hours a week to support themselves, while they are supposed to be full-time students.
I read that one value of reading literature is that it helps us develop empathy. Click the link to the left for an array of articles on that topic. I have always been a reader and, of course, I've been teaching literature for many years now. And, teaching at my current place of employ, I am reminded often of Virginia Woolf's wise words, which remind us that material things can keep us from doing what we're supposed to be doing.
I asked myself; for fiction, imaginative work that is, is not dropped like a pebble upon the ground, as science may be; fiction is like a spider’s web, attached ever so lightly perhaps, but still attached to life at all four corners. Often the attachment is scarcely perceptible; Shakespeare’s plays, for instance, seem to hang there complete by themselves. But when the web is pulled askew, hooked up at the edge, torn in the middle, one remembers that these webs are not spun in mid-air by incorporeal creatures, but are the work of suffering human beings, and are attached to grossly material things, like health and money and the houses we live in.
Tuesday, 13 May 2014
Destressing While Grading: French Lessons
Could anything be more dispiriting than reading research papers which are a pastiche of copied and pasted primary and secondary sources? And the sources are found--sadly--on sites with names like schmoop and gradesaver. Every now and then, the sites present dubious information (like the "fact" that Shakespeare was depressed about the closing of the theaters and so wrote sonnet 29. Or the "fact" that clowns and fools are markers only of comedy. Really? Only? Isn't there a fool in King Lear?) Enough! My mission in life is to develop assignments that help the students learn to read the material. Alas, I am required to assign traditional research papers in certain courses, assignments that were developed before EZ COPY PASTE (should I trademark that?).
So, to take a break, I am playing with Duolingo, the language learning site I first read about on Frugalshrink. How I wish I had had this before. I last studied French around 40 years ago. One kind woman we met in France told me that she could tell the language was in there, trying to get out.
I hope so. I don't know if I could learn a language from scratch on this, but I am tearing through the lessons and will hit the more sophisticated and difficult Foreign Service lessons later.
Today I even had to translate a frugal saying.
Acheter mieux, jeter moins.
Well sort of frugal. Could one also say Acheter moins, jeter moins? Je crois que oui.
I am so happy! Back to the grind.
So, to take a break, I am playing with Duolingo, the language learning site I first read about on Frugalshrink. How I wish I had had this before. I last studied French around 40 years ago. One kind woman we met in France told me that she could tell the language was in there, trying to get out.
I hope so. I don't know if I could learn a language from scratch on this, but I am tearing through the lessons and will hit the more sophisticated and difficult Foreign Service lessons later.
Today I even had to translate a frugal saying.
Acheter mieux, jeter moins.
Well sort of frugal. Could one also say Acheter moins, jeter moins? Je crois que oui.
I am so happy! Back to the grind.
Thursday, 10 April 2014
Just say no to working for free...CLEP
Right after reading Duchesse's post on the important issue of "precarity" in employment, I check my work email (from home) to find ANOTHER missive from CLEP, part of the massive money-making testing industry in the USA. Last time I got one of these, I replied that responders should be paid for their time. I guess they didn't get the message.
They've got to be kidding. My children took two tests from the industry last year--totaling about $400. I would do the survey for a test coupon my kids could use. What do you think Sterling Bland gets paid?
They've got to be kidding. My children took two tests from the industry last year--totaling about $400. I would do the survey for a test coupon my kids could use. What do you think Sterling Bland gets paid?
Dear Colleague,
I am writing to you today in my capacity as Chair of the CLEP Humanities Committee. As you may know, CLEP is the College-Level Examination Program, sponsored by the College Board and designed to allow students to earn credit for college courses by demonstrating their mastery of relevant subject matter. Exams are offered in more than 30 different subjects. Students who place at or above the recommended cut-score for a particular exam can earn credit for the corresponding course(s) at participating schools. For the CLEP Humanities exam, this is generally a two-semester survey course in Humanities or in literature, art, music, or the performing arts.
In recent years, the CLEP Humanities Committee (composed of faculty from a variety of institutions throughout the United States) has been working diligently to revise and update the exam to ensure that it reflects the significant, and ongoing, changes in our field. To enable us to continue improving the exam, we need the help of our fellow teachers and scholars. Specifically, we need to learn more about how a relevant survey course or courses are being taught at your institution. If you teach one or both semesters of a relevant course (or have taught it in the last three years), we would be extremely grateful if you would take the time to complete the online curriculum survey at:
The information gathered in this survey will enable us to make important decisions about what to include on the exam, about the kinds of skills that should be tested, and about whether modifications should be made to the overall test specifications.
We ask that you complete this survey by May 9, 2014. Please note that you do not need to teach at a participating CLEP school in order to complete the survey. If you do not teach a relevant survey course (or its equivalent), we would appreciate your forwarding this e-mail to a colleague who does.
Finally, survey participants may request a free copy of the survey results. I strongly encourage you to do so, as one of the more rewarding aspects of my work on the CLEP Humanities Committee during the past several years has been having the opportunity to broaden my own understanding of the work being done in the classroom at colleges and universities throughout the country.
Thank you in advance for your time and assistance.
Sincerely,
Sterling L. Bland
Rutgers University at Newark
249 University Ave
Tuesday, 18 March 2014
St Patrick's Lost and Found: Geaux Saints
As we await our certified letter's redelivery, we continue to suffer dental stress and distress. How about St Patrick's Day (and the traditional New Orleans parade the Saturday preceding) as a stress-reliever? Celebrations were marked by things lost and found, but the stress of the lost was far outweighed by the de-stress and delight of the found. This is turning out to be a year of saintly interventions: I can now add St Patrick to St Anthony (the prayer of a thrift store customer to St Anthony led to immediate recovery of my grandmother's bracelet.) As the signs and tee shirts of football fandom proclaim in New Orleans:
THE LOST: The New Orleans St Patrick's Day parade is huge and noted for its throws: in addition to the usual beads and flowers, spectators vie for cabbages, potatoes, and carrots. So exciting! A frugal parade! Unfortunately, the parade was running rather late and Mr FS and I had to head home before the big floats with the cabbage-givers rolled by. Not to worry: we had Frugal Son in attendance. He wanted cabbage for his homemade kimchi, which is not a traditional Irish recipe. But Poor Frugal Son. He had a bag of seven cabbages. He walked a few steps away for a few seconds to say hello to a friend. When he turned around, the bag was gone. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.
THE FOUND: As our group of four crossed Magazine Street en route to our chosen parade spot, I felt eyes upon me. I looked into the eyes of a young man. We were locked in a stare. Finally, he mouthed "Dr Frugal???" I ran over and he gave me a hug, reminding me that he had taken classes from me. I asked him to remind me of his name and he said "My name is Josh, but you always called me another name, which you said suited me better." As we walked away, I retrieved my memory from the file cabinet in my brain. Josh was a psychology major who took one of the dreaded (to many students) required literature courses. He was very smart and more interested than most. He fell in love with Paradise Lost and always vowed he would take a Milton course if it was offered while he was in school. A few years later, the course was offered and--lo and behold--there he was. He held his own with the advanced English majors too.
As we walked back from our stint at the parade, we came to Magazine Street once more. And there he was again. He came over and said "I always loved you as a teacher." And I said "I always loved you as a student." Another hug and then I remembered. I said, "Isn't funny? I always called you PATRICK."
LOST AND FOUND: A few years ago, I was whining in this very space about how I wanted a second Hermes scarf. Amazingly, a blogger with a beautiful spirit sent me one and, also amazing, it arrived on my birthday. The scarf was designed by Kermit Oliver, the only American to design Hermes scarves. When you read about him and view his artwork, it is clear that he too has a beautiful spirit. In addition to gifting the world with remarkable images, he has suffered tragedy beyond my efforts to process. Any powers of empathy I possess are not sufficient.
This scarf has come in handy. I wear it when I teach Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, whose plot hinges on the gift of a green scarf. I also wear it on St Patrick's Day. And when I looked for it in my scarf area, IT WAS NOT THERE. I looked and looked. Even though I am a certified slob, I always keep my two Hermes scarves in their place. This one is especially valued because of the giver and because of the artist.
I suffered through several hours before and after work of looking in various unlikely places. Then I found it. It had slipped from its spot (HOW???), crossed to the other side of a small closet, and ended up next to Mr FS's socks. Oh, how I hugged that precious piece of silk to me! Just like poor Sir Gawain, for whom, unlike for me, taking the scarf was a sin.
I'd say that in the LOST AND FOUND of St Patrick's celebrations, I have received much more than I lost. Frugal Son mentioned that the mom of one his friends might give him a few cabbages from her parade stash. So we may have kimchi after all.
THE LOST: The New Orleans St Patrick's Day parade is huge and noted for its throws: in addition to the usual beads and flowers, spectators vie for cabbages, potatoes, and carrots. So exciting! A frugal parade! Unfortunately, the parade was running rather late and Mr FS and I had to head home before the big floats with the cabbage-givers rolled by. Not to worry: we had Frugal Son in attendance. He wanted cabbage for his homemade kimchi, which is not a traditional Irish recipe. But Poor Frugal Son. He had a bag of seven cabbages. He walked a few steps away for a few seconds to say hello to a friend. When he turned around, the bag was gone. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.
THE FOUND: As our group of four crossed Magazine Street en route to our chosen parade spot, I felt eyes upon me. I looked into the eyes of a young man. We were locked in a stare. Finally, he mouthed "Dr Frugal???" I ran over and he gave me a hug, reminding me that he had taken classes from me. I asked him to remind me of his name and he said "My name is Josh, but you always called me another name, which you said suited me better." As we walked away, I retrieved my memory from the file cabinet in my brain. Josh was a psychology major who took one of the dreaded (to many students) required literature courses. He was very smart and more interested than most. He fell in love with Paradise Lost and always vowed he would take a Milton course if it was offered while he was in school. A few years later, the course was offered and--lo and behold--there he was. He held his own with the advanced English majors too.
As we walked back from our stint at the parade, we came to Magazine Street once more. And there he was again. He came over and said "I always loved you as a teacher." And I said "I always loved you as a student." Another hug and then I remembered. I said, "Isn't funny? I always called you PATRICK."
LOST AND FOUND: A few years ago, I was whining in this very space about how I wanted a second Hermes scarf. Amazingly, a blogger with a beautiful spirit sent me one and, also amazing, it arrived on my birthday. The scarf was designed by Kermit Oliver, the only American to design Hermes scarves. When you read about him and view his artwork, it is clear that he too has a beautiful spirit. In addition to gifting the world with remarkable images, he has suffered tragedy beyond my efforts to process. Any powers of empathy I possess are not sufficient.
This scarf has come in handy. I wear it when I teach Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, whose plot hinges on the gift of a green scarf. I also wear it on St Patrick's Day. And when I looked for it in my scarf area, IT WAS NOT THERE. I looked and looked. Even though I am a certified slob, I always keep my two Hermes scarves in their place. This one is especially valued because of the giver and because of the artist.
I suffered through several hours before and after work of looking in various unlikely places. Then I found it. It had slipped from its spot (HOW???), crossed to the other side of a small closet, and ended up next to Mr FS's socks. Oh, how I hugged that precious piece of silk to me! Just like poor Sir Gawain, for whom, unlike for me, taking the scarf was a sin.
I'd say that in the LOST AND FOUND of St Patrick's celebrations, I have received much more than I lost. Frugal Son mentioned that the mom of one his friends might give him a few cabbages from her parade stash. So we may have kimchi after all.
Tuesday, 14 May 2013
One More Year
Stress upon stress upon stress. First of all, I am at the end of my semester: expected stress. Second, we decided to go ahead with the house for Frugal Son, commencing a grand experiment in uncharted waters. Third, UGH, we had our SIXTH yearly scare about the budget. Actually, the scare is on-going even now.
I think things are going to be OK (let us hope--some of my colleagues are pretty hopeful), but I live in a state where the only unprotected areas in the budget are healthcare and higher ed. So for 6 years, we have endured major mid-year cuts, the most drastic of which led to the zapping of the French major. But, hey, when we committed to this house for Frugal Son, I figured the budget crises were past. Many states have surpluses this year.
When we heard the scary news, I had a sense of deja vu: I first started reading Funny About Money a few years ago. She helped HER son buy a house at what they thought was the bottom of the market. The housing market promptly tanked further and Funny--with a teeny bit of warning--had her position eliminated at her university.
So what can a worry wart do? First, I ran my numbers through my new BFF firecalc. I discovered that Mr FS and I are on track for a humble retirement. Then I read around the site. One of the things these early-retirement wannabes warn against in OMY. That means ONE MORE YEAR. People fear early retirement and so keep adding OMY to their plans.
I'm using OMY differently. When I think of a splurgy or uncharacteristic purchase, I now think: would I buy this if I only had OMY? Yes: to storage containers. Yes: to travel. No: to Hermes scarf. No: to fancy handbag. Of course, that's just me. You get to make your own choices.
I feel a lot better. Wish the legislature good luck with their deliberations. Wish me and Mr FS as many OMYs as we desire...
I think things are going to be OK (let us hope--some of my colleagues are pretty hopeful), but I live in a state where the only unprotected areas in the budget are healthcare and higher ed. So for 6 years, we have endured major mid-year cuts, the most drastic of which led to the zapping of the French major. But, hey, when we committed to this house for Frugal Son, I figured the budget crises were past. Many states have surpluses this year.
When we heard the scary news, I had a sense of deja vu: I first started reading Funny About Money a few years ago. She helped HER son buy a house at what they thought was the bottom of the market. The housing market promptly tanked further and Funny--with a teeny bit of warning--had her position eliminated at her university.
So what can a worry wart do? First, I ran my numbers through my new BFF firecalc. I discovered that Mr FS and I are on track for a humble retirement. Then I read around the site. One of the things these early-retirement wannabes warn against in OMY. That means ONE MORE YEAR. People fear early retirement and so keep adding OMY to their plans.
I'm using OMY differently. When I think of a splurgy or uncharacteristic purchase, I now think: would I buy this if I only had OMY? Yes: to storage containers. Yes: to travel. No: to Hermes scarf. No: to fancy handbag. Of course, that's just me. You get to make your own choices.
I feel a lot better. Wish the legislature good luck with their deliberations. Wish me and Mr FS as many OMYs as we desire...
Sunday, 5 May 2013
JCP and Me: More Thoughts on Innumeracy
If you've been reading the finance pages recently, you will have noticed that JC Penney fired its snazzy ex-Apple CEO and--as Walmart says--rolled back his everyday low price policies. In fact, it's JC Penney once again, not jcp. According to the various post-mortems, customers LIKE sales, even if the sales are on artificially inflated prices. Here's an actual example from my own single jcp experience. I LIKE the idea of everyday low prices. So I bought a basic tank top, the black stretchy kind. At jcp, it was $5 or $6 dollars. I love it! Now, it is $12. Oh, but I got a coupon for 20% off. Thanks.
I wrote a few days ago about the psychology of grading points. I am going to try the 1000 point system next semester, whereby everything will be worth 10x more than now and be divided by 10 in the grand finale. Interestingly, one commenter suggested that the 1000 point system enables the students to get more points. Perhaps that's true, since there are more fine points in between. However, it works the other way too, whereby students can get fewer points. For instance, I have 20 one-point assignments. I give the students points for doing them. They are very short assignments, designed to keep students doing SOMETHING in between more major assignments.
Everyone can get 20/20--even if English is not a strong subject. That is a big chunk of a grade and can compensate for poor performance on projects and exams. I do have a small--5 point--bonus for "quality," where I look at three assignments randomly and give 1-5 points. But watch what happens when it's a 10-point assignment. While students may be more excited about an assignment that's "worth more," I would guess that I will see fewer 20/20 than I do currently. I will eliminate the extra step for me of assigning quality points. I would guess that most students will get between 6 and 8 points out of 10 under the new system. So it's more likely that students will see 70 out of 100 than 10/10. That's what happens when most people hover around the middle rather than cluster at the top.
The funny thing: when students have to divide by 10, I notice that most whip out their phones to do the calculation. That's the innumeracy I worry about.
I wrote a few days ago about the psychology of grading points. I am going to try the 1000 point system next semester, whereby everything will be worth 10x more than now and be divided by 10 in the grand finale. Interestingly, one commenter suggested that the 1000 point system enables the students to get more points. Perhaps that's true, since there are more fine points in between. However, it works the other way too, whereby students can get fewer points. For instance, I have 20 one-point assignments. I give the students points for doing them. They are very short assignments, designed to keep students doing SOMETHING in between more major assignments.
Everyone can get 20/20--even if English is not a strong subject. That is a big chunk of a grade and can compensate for poor performance on projects and exams. I do have a small--5 point--bonus for "quality," where I look at three assignments randomly and give 1-5 points. But watch what happens when it's a 10-point assignment. While students may be more excited about an assignment that's "worth more," I would guess that I will see fewer 20/20 than I do currently. I will eliminate the extra step for me of assigning quality points. I would guess that most students will get between 6 and 8 points out of 10 under the new system. So it's more likely that students will see 70 out of 100 than 10/10. That's what happens when most people hover around the middle rather than cluster at the top.
The funny thing: when students have to divide by 10, I notice that most whip out their phones to do the calculation. That's the innumeracy I worry about.
Friday, 3 May 2013
Innumeracy: An Affliction?
As an English teacher, I'm supposed to be concerned with kinds of literacy, not numeracy. Nevertheless, I remain concerned by the lack of math savvy of many of my students. Could this be why there's a student loan problem?
Our realtor informed us--with a sly look--that he had checked out our ratings on Rate my Professor. Not surprisingly, I am liked a lot or disliked--with no middle. The more mellow Mr FS has less love, but also less dislike. Being a sensitive sort, I haven't checked out my ratings. Mr FS did though and came to me with a surprising comment.
A lot of students complain that there "aren't enough points" in my class. Because students were having trouble with the traditional ABC and then having trouble with 85% and 78% etc (because they couldn't figure out how to compute an 85% of an assignment worth 20% of their grade), I simplified. Each assignment is now worth what it is worth out of 100 points. We have a 25% exam and a 20% project and so on. Add up all the points and you have your grade, on a ten point scale. Easy-peasy, or so I thought.
I have heard mutterings from anxious students that assignments weren't "worth enough" and that they wished they could get "more points." Mr FS suggested that I multiply by 10: each assignment is worth--instead of 20 or 25 points out of 100--200 or 250 points out of 1000. I had thought that would be unnecessarily complicated, but...if that's what they want, that's what I'll try.
Is it just a psychological issue to think an assignment worth 250 points out of 1000 is "worth more" than 25 points out of 100? Or is something else going on?
Have you ever encountered similar math issues?
Our realtor informed us--with a sly look--that he had checked out our ratings on Rate my Professor. Not surprisingly, I am liked a lot or disliked--with no middle. The more mellow Mr FS has less love, but also less dislike. Being a sensitive sort, I haven't checked out my ratings. Mr FS did though and came to me with a surprising comment.
A lot of students complain that there "aren't enough points" in my class. Because students were having trouble with the traditional ABC and then having trouble with 85% and 78% etc (because they couldn't figure out how to compute an 85% of an assignment worth 20% of their grade), I simplified. Each assignment is now worth what it is worth out of 100 points. We have a 25% exam and a 20% project and so on. Add up all the points and you have your grade, on a ten point scale. Easy-peasy, or so I thought.
I have heard mutterings from anxious students that assignments weren't "worth enough" and that they wished they could get "more points." Mr FS suggested that I multiply by 10: each assignment is worth--instead of 20 or 25 points out of 100--200 or 250 points out of 1000. I had thought that would be unnecessarily complicated, but...if that's what they want, that's what I'll try.
Is it just a psychological issue to think an assignment worth 250 points out of 1000 is "worth more" than 25 points out of 100? Or is something else going on?
Have you ever encountered similar math issues?
Saturday, 28 April 2012
Words of Wisdom and Warning: Decluttering
As a messy clutterbug AND a teacher, I have a double whammy: teachers often let personal tasks pile up and get to them only after the semester is done. So, stuff and jobs have been piling up. Adding to the emergency is that Miss Em will be bringing home two people: her friend Mr C AND his twin brother, also Mr C. So, we have been cleaning. And, of course, as all teachers know, cleaning is a great way to avoid the real task: grading student work. For emergency assistance, I went to the library (note: LIBRARY, friend of frugal and messy) and checked out two books by my favorite clutter guru, Susan Pinsky. Here is the warning and, for me, motivation. According to Susan P, most of the clients who hire her for a hefty hourly fee do so for one task: to go through their STUFF and motivate them to get rid of it. She does not spend most of her time creating clever organizing systems. No: she holds up item after item and says Go or Stay? Susan P is not a big fan of frugality because she says it leads to clutter (and I gotta admit, she has a point). But I am WAY TOO CHEAP to pay someone to stand next to me and say Go or stay. So I'll do it myself. Here's the drill. Read a few pages of Pinsky. Put some stuff in the donation bag. Grade a few papers. REPEAT. How's your decluttering going? Or are you a paragon of no-clutter? If so, wish me luck.
Wednesday, 15 February 2012
Frugality and Poetry: Shakespeare Sonnet 29
Today I was teaching Shakespeare's Sonnet 29. Even now, I can hardly believe that a big chunk of my job consists of helping students learn to read poetry. It was slow-going. The class is at 8 in the morning, plus my dear students had an assignment due today.
We got to line 10 and--unaided by the poor notes in the venerable Norton Anthology of English Literature--I tried to explain why the word Haply is important. What do you think it means, said I. Eventually, someone ventured Happily??? YESSSS. Then I said, The word has another meaning.
This possibility was outside the knowledge of my sleepy non-majors taking a required course. So, dear Readers, I told them: It's like happenstance; it means by chance. We talked about why that was important.
Then I said, Do you know why a writer might use a word with two meanings? No idea. I pointed out that a sonnet has only 14 lines, each with 10 syllables: the writer doesn't get a lot of words! So, it makes sense to use a word with two meanings. Kind of like a buy-one-get-one-free at the grocery, said I.
This perked some of the students right up: Oh, I LOVE when you buy-one-get-one-free, one exclaimed. At least they were paying attention.
And now I know why I like all those double meanings in poetry: frugality.
When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries
And look upon myself and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends possess'd,
Desiring this man's art and that man's scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate;
For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.
We got to line 10 and--unaided by the poor notes in the venerable Norton Anthology of English Literature--I tried to explain why the word Haply is important. What do you think it means, said I. Eventually, someone ventured Happily??? YESSSS. Then I said, The word has another meaning.
This possibility was outside the knowledge of my sleepy non-majors taking a required course. So, dear Readers, I told them: It's like happenstance; it means by chance. We talked about why that was important.
Then I said, Do you know why a writer might use a word with two meanings? No idea. I pointed out that a sonnet has only 14 lines, each with 10 syllables: the writer doesn't get a lot of words! So, it makes sense to use a word with two meanings. Kind of like a buy-one-get-one-free at the grocery, said I.
This perked some of the students right up: Oh, I LOVE when you buy-one-get-one-free, one exclaimed. At least they were paying attention.
And now I know why I like all those double meanings in poetry: frugality.
When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries
And look upon myself and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends possess'd,
Desiring this man's art and that man's scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate;
For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.
Saturday, 19 November 2011
Gifts for Teachers: FRUGAL Gifts for Teachers, that is
My second re-posting of this "classic."
Since this is the season of TEACHER GIFTS, I'm taking the liberty of reposting an oldie (but I think still goodie).
No, I'm not going to recommend that you buy a mug with an apple on it. Or a mug that says A+ Teacher. These are to be found at any Dollar Store.
There are also scores of such mugs, along with similarly emblazoned teacher gift items, at any thrift shop. Do not burden your child's teacher with these; your teacher has already donated last year's gifts. Since my definition of frugality involves getting the most from the resources of time and money, even $1.00 mugs are not frugal, since every teacher is given scads of these, every year.
Frugal Son had a wonderful teacher in grade school. Mr. Callahan was so gifted at classroom management that his class was filled with a large percentage of kids with behavior problems. At assemblies, I would watch with awe as he, with only a small gesture, would quiet down a kid about to go out of control. Mr. Callahan was also an artist, and retired in his 40s to pursue that full-time. He disappeared from our purview after Katrina. If you see him, say hi.
Mr. Callahan also had a gift for gifts. He told his class that he didn't really need anything. So no gifts were necessary. This in itself was thoughtful, since more than half the children at the grade school received free or reduced lunch. But, he said, if their parents HAD to buy him something, they should mention that he didn't need any coffee mugs. He already had a lot. Oh, and he needed socks, calf-height, size 10 and always appreciated coffee beans.
What a wonderful gift to us. Frugal Son and I spent perhaps an hour at the local coffee shop deciding what kind of coffee beans to purchase. There were so many choices: Colombian, Tanzanian, Ethiopian, and more. We picked two half pounds because we couldn't decide on one kind.
At the year end party, Mr. Callahan opened his gifts. He got a lot of coffee and a few pairs of socks. Then he opened a box and out came a mug. Grade school kids don't have the "politeness" of adults. One child blurted out, "You said you didn't want any coffee mugs." Without missing a beat, Mr. Callahan replied, "I wasn't talking about THIS mug. This is the exact one I wanted."
Many thanks, Mr. Callahan. The lesson here for recipients: if possible, indicate what it is you want. For givers, consumable gifts (who wouldn't want coffee? or tea? or a gift card?). We often gave teachers bouquets from our garden. These were always well-received. The best-received gifts: appreciative notes from parents and children.
Dear Readers: what are your best gifts for teachers?
Since this is the season of TEACHER GIFTS, I'm taking the liberty of reposting an oldie (but I think still goodie).
No, I'm not going to recommend that you buy a mug with an apple on it. Or a mug that says A+ Teacher. These are to be found at any Dollar Store.
There are also scores of such mugs, along with similarly emblazoned teacher gift items, at any thrift shop. Do not burden your child's teacher with these; your teacher has already donated last year's gifts. Since my definition of frugality involves getting the most from the resources of time and money, even $1.00 mugs are not frugal, since every teacher is given scads of these, every year.
Frugal Son had a wonderful teacher in grade school. Mr. Callahan was so gifted at classroom management that his class was filled with a large percentage of kids with behavior problems. At assemblies, I would watch with awe as he, with only a small gesture, would quiet down a kid about to go out of control. Mr. Callahan was also an artist, and retired in his 40s to pursue that full-time. He disappeared from our purview after Katrina. If you see him, say hi.
Mr. Callahan also had a gift for gifts. He told his class that he didn't really need anything. So no gifts were necessary. This in itself was thoughtful, since more than half the children at the grade school received free or reduced lunch. But, he said, if their parents HAD to buy him something, they should mention that he didn't need any coffee mugs. He already had a lot. Oh, and he needed socks, calf-height, size 10 and always appreciated coffee beans.
What a wonderful gift to us. Frugal Son and I spent perhaps an hour at the local coffee shop deciding what kind of coffee beans to purchase. There were so many choices: Colombian, Tanzanian, Ethiopian, and more. We picked two half pounds because we couldn't decide on one kind.
At the year end party, Mr. Callahan opened his gifts. He got a lot of coffee and a few pairs of socks. Then he opened a box and out came a mug. Grade school kids don't have the "politeness" of adults. One child blurted out, "You said you didn't want any coffee mugs." Without missing a beat, Mr. Callahan replied, "I wasn't talking about THIS mug. This is the exact one I wanted."
Many thanks, Mr. Callahan. The lesson here for recipients: if possible, indicate what it is you want. For givers, consumable gifts (who wouldn't want coffee? or tea? or a gift card?). We often gave teachers bouquets from our garden. These were always well-received. The best-received gifts: appreciative notes from parents and children.
Dear Readers: what are your best gifts for teachers?
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