Sunday, August 29, 2004
laundry to wash away the summer... freshmen
come tomorrow... but i don't have any... yet we must be "around"
to help them out... & i'll be happy to do it... and then put some
finishing touches on the ubd to share in the afternoon... tuesday
we get school... at last... for real!
Saturday, August 28, 2004
i'd like to think i withhold... when
i think that people are thinking that i am this way or that because
i am a brother... i'd like to think that i withhold comment on
spiritual life because it is too closely my self and mustn't be
squandered or tossed away... but that's not the case... most of
the time there's just this hole...
sports report: our football team played
their first game last night on our new grassless field. i did
not attend. but many others did. parking was ferocious. after
dinner i stood out by pat's car to insure an exit for her. carmel
won 41-20... or so...
weather report: a rainy gray morning...
humid... we walked into sunrise sprinkles... hard rain last night
knocked down my tall purple plant... never knew its name... but
it's just that time of year for the garden to get all funky anyway...
taking some time for a double dose of
... i'd been
overplaying el corazon
forever & ever... finally got jerusalem
and the new one... uh... the revolution starts... now
seems my ellipsis is catching... & i'm thinking mr. earle is a
fine writer... & i don't mind a couple of love songs on a political
Friday, August 27, 2004
... at EVENTS... scroll down to Murphy...
Thursday, August 26, 2004
ug... i feel like i did nothing all day...
just the ubd... i'm all ubd out... and we've only just begun...
to ub... d...
Wednesday, August 25, 2004
fish warnings cover one-third of lakes, one-fourth of rivers
when was the last time a fish pulled from any body of North American
water could be eaten with no threat of ill-effect?
today was better than yesterday... while
i'm still not burning with enthusiasm for the UbD process, i have
managed with the help of patient peers, to get a toehold... my
good buddy theresa set aside her own work for a moment and blasted
me with a string of insightful, pointed questions... which led
to a kind of understanding... which helped me to see that i just
need to describe the class i've already been teaching... using
the UbD categories... i didn't see how it could work... but now
i'm beginning to... see
been stumped by the problem of "the unit" as a self-contained,
time-bound, capsule of teaching and learning... now i see that
my "units" stretch across the whole span of the school
year... my poetry, drama, fiction, and composition "units"
run from august to may... aha...
Tuesday, August 24, 2004
o but it wasn't really all that grim...
my pals kept my spirits up... and didn't berate me for being the
slacker vagueoid that i am at moments like this... maybe because
i shared a bit of my birthday candy...
we were in the library moaning and crying...
or i was... the other two sat busy about their work... we were
trying to put some finishing touches on our elegant design of
the senior world lit class... after the UbD
model... which i won't bother to explain here... because i can't...
thus, at least in part, the reason for the moaning and crying...
this is a painful process for me... and i wish it weren't... but
every cell in my body cries out against it... what does it mean
when one has such a complete, illogical, and irrefutable aversion
to something? i suspect it's something to do with old dogs and
Birkerts on little magazines
players come from every geographic and aesthetic region -- some,
like Fence or Conjunctions, readily seen as serving a more cutting-edge
aesthetic, others, like Tin House, Witness, Gulf Coast, Mississippi
Review, Triquarterly, Ploughshares, Post
Road, The Gettysburg Review, The Antioch Review, and two dozen
others I could name without much pause for thought, finding their
freshness more in the progressive mainstream. Add to these the
influential newsprint and periodical-format journals like The
Threepenny Review, Speakeasy, The American Poetry Review, and
Francis Ford Coppola's Zoetrope: All-Story, and you get a sense
of the volubility and vitality of the scene.
Monday, August 23, 2004
and... fifty-four years ago... today...
i was born... much gratitude and love to the wonderful lady who
made it all possible... (and i'm reminded by some... would never
deny it... that a fine gentle man had some big part to play...
a day of beginning again... teaching...
year 29... comin' at ya...
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