Now What?

I apologize for not having posted in a while. I have been quite busy with finishing out the last few days of school. It has been a busy year. My wife has started up her proofreading business with a smashing good year. Both of us got masters degrees (my second, her first), I have finished up my final days at the Baltimore County Public Schools, and in two weeks, we are off do our new place in Newark, DE so that I can start my Education PhD.

Now that I am done my school year, I think it is a good time to pack up my blog. I am now contributing to a new blog, Liberty and Skepticism, and have started a new blog more aptly titled Education Philosopher. This new blog, I think, will focus on the more philosophical side of education, as I will write for it during my PhD study.

I hope that anyone who reads and enjoys this blog follows the other. (I will probably try to limit that one to matters of education, as Liberty and Skepticism will cover the more philosophical and political stuff).

See you all there.

The Guys Behind the freecreditreport.com Music

Recently, I saw a commercial for freecreditreport.com without the "band" that has become the company's trademark. This got me to thinking: who are the people that came up with the music for freecreditreport.com in the first place (a question we very seldom ask ourselves considering how often their products infest our heads)?

Well, here is some info. The songwriter for these jingles is a 36 year old jingle writer named David Muhlenfield - a senior copywriter at the Martin Agency.

But unlike what many would assume, Muhlenfield is NOT the frontman in the commercials. That honor - and if you think of the royalties, it is an honor - belongs to Eric Violette, a classically trained actor/musician from just outside of Montreal, Canada. it is interesting to note that in 2004 (a few years before the commercials began appearing, if memory serves) Violette starred in a French rendition of Hamlet at the Société Supérieure de Théâtre du Dehors. According to his resume, he lists his role in the commercials as the "main character" under his acting credentials, but research indicates that he also sang in the commercials.

Forgive my frivolity!

Why Ebooks Must Fail? Hardly.

Recently, I read an online article, entitled "Why Ebooks Must Fail." In short, the article is an economic argument against the viability of ebooks (for ebook readers like the Amazon Kindle and Sony Ebook Reader) from the perspective of the publishing industry. As an owner of an Amazon Kindle myself, I took great interest in the article. I also think the arguments are dead-nuts wrong.

The author's point is that the book publishing industry is built on and depends on a certain model of doing business and that "ebooks don’t follow these rules."

In brief, publishers act as middlemen between authors and the buying public. Publishers contract with authors and pay authors advances (that will be recouped by future book sales). In addition to paying authors, publishers must pay for marketing and design of the book. In order to afford this, they "presell" books to stores, not all of which will be sold (but the publishers make money in these presales and have incentive to presell as much as possible so that they can get as much money as possible.) In order to encourage stores to buy as much as possible, publishers will accept returns of unsold copies for full monetary credit.

So, in order for publishers to be able to spend money on author advances, marketing, and production is that they make money "preselling" books (even if they have to give some back later in "buying back" unsold copies) they still get short-term cash flow via "presale."

And the author's argument - why he thinks ebooks must fail - is because ebooks do not work this way, and cannot be "presold" to "brick and mortar" bookstores in the way that paperbacks and hardcovers can.

Ebooks are effectively sold on a consignment basis - meaning the money for the sale is distributed after the sale is made, not up front. Stores don’t buy inventory, they put the file in a database and distribute copies as they are sold. This means that ebooks don’t have a huge returns problem, but it also means they cannot generate short-term cash flow like print books do.

Unfortunately, one never gets a straight answer as to why this inevitably spells death for publishers, other than the sense that publishers depend on the short-term income of "presales." But am I crazy, or do presales seem to be almost the equivalent of a loan made by bookstores (where the bookstore is simply paying the publisher in advance of the actual sales)? Actually, it is unclear why publishers wouldn't be making the exact same amount of money if bookstores payed publishers AS THE SALE OCCURRED rather than BEFORE THE SALE OCCURRED. (Think of it this way: a loan shark pays you winnings before your team actually wins, with the stipulation that you pay the money back if the team loses. How is that ANY DIFFERENT quantitatively from the loan shark who waits to pay you until after your team wins?!)

The other thing that annoys me about this article is that the author seems to forget that this situation is not at all unique to book publishers. Record companies have gone through a DIRECTLY ANALOGOUS situation when CD's gave way to mp3's. And they are doing fine, because they figured out a way to adapt.


Record companies play a role directly analogous to book publishers. Record companies "sign" artists to their label, give them monetary advances to be recouped by the artist's future sales, and pour money into marketing and sales of the artists' records. Also, like book publishers, record companies "presell" to record stores and promise to "buy back" the remaining unsold units. This was how they got their "short term" income to be invested into marketing and production - that is, until the mp3 trade changed the rules.

As evidenced by the first two years of Napater (a file-sharing website), there were initial growing pains, and the record industry was forced to change their rules about many things, nonetheleast of which was the fact that mp3's (which have no physical existence) cannot be presold, and hence, record companies had to learn to wait until "units" were sold to the public to be paid.

One could easily see our author's article having been written about the mp3 industry, arguing that mp3s must fail because they do not accord with the record/CD model of doing business. But the record companies did adapt, and it took a small number of years for them to do it.

The author also complains about the fact that publishers will have to adapt the way they do marketing and advertising, suggesting that these are new costs (all to sell books which are less expensive than their physical counterparts).

Ebooks will still have to be sold and marketed, just in different ways as there will be far less reliance on an upfront advance buy-in, but far more reliance on ongoing marketing through the use of content and metadata - as well as user-generated content and promotion tools to get the book marketed. These are completely new expenses for publishers who traditionally think of marketing as publicity and display advertising for new books, not ongoing support and marketing for long-term sales.

New expenses? Yes and no. While the expenses of e-marketing may be new, they would simply REPLACE the expenses of marketing physical books to "brick and mortar" establishments. The expense of designing websites, blurbs for existing websites, etc, will simply replace the costs of designing in-store displays. And I have to imagine that the cost of involving authors in cyber-chats to promote their books would be less expensive then flying those authors to bookstores and putting them up in hotels for book tours.

Of course, as much as I want e-books to replace regular ones (I don't miss regular books at all!), it will be several years until publishing goes fully digital. As such, the transition will not be as "all-at-once" as our author dreads, and the "cash flow problem" will likely not be catastrophic, as it will happen very gradually, allowing publishers to adjust gradually (just as mp3's replaced CD's over several years, and record stores even still exist).

Why won't the change happen quickly? Because ebook readers are quite expensive. The Kindle 2 lists at $359, and it is unlikely that the casual reader will buy it. At its prohibitive price, buying ebook readers is not in the economic interest of most readers (who may go through several books a year, but not enough to justify the one-time cost of $359). Where I read enough books a year to make the cost worthwhile (or at least a non-factor) I don't see too many readers eager to give up the, at this point, more cost-effective option of "real" books.

All of this means that publishers won't be suddenly starved of the "short term" income provided by preselling books. They will not wake up one day and find that this income is gone. Instead, what will likely happen is that publishers find a gradual diminution in "presale" revenue each year until one day, the last bookstores close their doors.

But in their place will be ebooks stores. And while publishers cannot presell ebooks to these stores, they will still get the same amount of money, but in a more "real time" scenario; instead of getting the money from book sales in advance, they will get them, say, on a monthly basis (or even in absolute real time, as the sales happen).

And I cannot think of one reason why publishers cannot function this way. Just as most other businesses do, publishers can learn to make their money as sales occur, rather than before sales actually take place. Record companies have gotten used to doing this. So can book publishers.

In the end, "Why ebooks Must Fail" may be better named, "Why the Old Model of Book Publishing Must Adapt."

The Intrinsic Pleasure of Nice Things

Several weeks ago, while my fiancee went shopping for wedding accessories, I killed time in a Brookstone store. While browsing the items, I came across the clock pictured on the left. I did not buy it because I do not need an alarm clock. Even though I found it a positively eye-catching clock, I did not want to buy it solely for that reason. Such things would invariably make me feel guilty.

So, I am writing this essay in attempt to justify yesterday's purchase of the said clock. I liked its look, and even though I didn't need it, I bought it. Is there, I keep asking, anything wrong with that?

First, I must explain that I am not a frivolous spender. As a teacher, I make a modest amount and as such, don't waste money. Generally I don't buy it unless I need it. This clock is, you might say, an isolated incident. But enough delay; is there anything wrong with what I did?

Like many, I have unconsciously bought into the school of thought that sees buying "luxury" items as a shame, and a sense of shallowness and - pejorative ahead - consumerism. Some theorize that luxury buying is our attempt to gain power and order in our otherwise powerless and orderless lives. Others suggest that luxury consumerism stems from our increasing and insatiable desire to chase after a certain vision of a perfect life (that is, as the word "perfect" connotes, unattainable).

Such frivolity equates, in intellectual circles, to a lack of appreciation of "real" value in favor of ephemeral and fleeting value. As mentioned in a previous post, a television show I watched recently contained a philosopher whose name I don't remember affirming Plato's point that focus on sensual pleasure is surely to miss or ignore the "real" pleasures (like, of course, intellectual stimulants like philosophy). Philosophers, it seems, are Platonists rather than Epicureans.

Similarly, a book written a few years ago by another snooty intellectual, called "The Middle Mind", excoriates those who do such ghastly things as shop for luxury items (or at Wal-Mart) as "middle minds," - those less intellectually equipped than enlightened minds (that presumably buy only ugly things).

I have absorbed these ideas well; they are part of the generation I grew up with. (How many movies and tv shows were made in the nineties that mocked materialism and contained the underlying message that consumerism is the antithesis of a life well lived.) So here I am, feeling guilty about buying a clock I don't need simply because I like the design.

I have mulled over my motivations for buying the clock several times, and must say that I disagree with all of the above theorists. I bought the clock because I like the look of it, and wouldn't mind looking at it every morning. I did not buy it because of a desire to control my uncontrolled life. I did not buy it because I quest after perfection in life. I did not buy it because I am ignorant to non-tangible and more lasting pleasures (yes, I love philosophy as much as I did pre-clock). I bought it...because I like the look of it, and am naturally drawn towards things I like.

And, honestly, I can't see what is wrong with this. Of course, I would be able to spot the flaw if I were one to buy in excess and rely EXCLUSIVELY on aesthetically pleasing procurements to make me feel good. Were I frivolous in spending, the flaw would be a pragmatic one of spending more than I could afford. Were I nothing but a stuff-worshipper, one could question my psychological well being on good grounds (in the same way one would question a person obsessed with plastic surgery as their only source of self-esteem). But I am neither of these. Try as I might, I can't see why my desire for nice items is wrong if not done in excess.

Virginia Postrel, in fact, has written a very interesting book on the subject, called "The Substance of Style." And any reader thinking that I am making much ado about nothing would do well to read her book, as she demonstrates how prominent and present are current antipathies towards people's desire for nice things.

In this book, Postrel makes an interesting but very, very simple argument: that aesthetic value is a very legitimate value, and a thing's form is a legitimate part of its function. Why this is so remains a mystery, but that it is so seems almost undeniable. Our desire to look at nice things can be seen everywhere from the world of marketing to the very real and important value of "first impressions." (In an ultimate irony, even the anti-consumerist author of "the Middle Mind" has to rely on something other than an all-white book cover to sell his books. And I would even move to suggest that many anti-consumerism folks still base more of their purchases on physical appearance than they realize.)

Is such an eye for art endemic to our human nature - a part of our evolutionary past? Denis Dutton has written an interesting case for an affirmative answer in his book "The Art Instinct" Putting value on things' appearance is a huge part of our history, especially inexorable since the human species primarily relies on visual and auditory information to make judgments. Once we see that early humans that had the strongest connection between these two senses and their ability to make good, quick judgments had a survival advantage over those who couldn't, it is but a short leap to the idea that, as an evolutionary byproduct, we acquired a love for things that look and sound good. (This, of course, is just as true if "good" and "bad" turn out to be subjectively defined terms. It is still undeniable that we make judgments about how a thing looks and sounds.)

Embarrassingly enough, all of this is to say that I have no IDEA what made me love this absolutely unnecessary clock enough to buy it (rather than save the money). I know that I like the way it looks, and know that I like the idea of being able to see this nice looking clock every day. But that is the best I can do. To see this very natural reaction as mindless or shallow is as absurd as to see my desire to wear or smell cologne rather than body odor as equally shallow.

In my opinion, theorists who rail against the intrinsic pleasure of nice things are, in this sense, arguing against the way human beings are. They are also making a mistake very common amongst intellectuals - the judgment that since they like intellectualism so much that anyone who doesn't must be shallow, much in the same way some jazz musicians wrongly judge those who don't like jazz as shallow and unintellectual.

So, I guess the reason I bought the clock has to do with the very inexplicable (but somewhat less than sinister) drive to see nice things. My buying the clock did not, in all likelihood, have to do with an eschewal of "deeper" pleasures or a quest for controllability, but rather, a benign desire to see and keep seeing something that is attractive aesthetically. I hope the reader is not disappointed that I am ending this essay on a tautology (I am attracted to attractive things), but it is the best I can do. As much as some might hate to think it, I - and we all - are attracted to attractive things.

Does "Socially Constructed" Equal "Bad"?

Like so many other good ideas that went too far, our insatiable urge to "deconstruct" things began in the 1960's. With the help of postmodernist philosophy, The Western World began its infatuation with pointing out social constructions and deconstructing them - allegedly to show the truth behind the fictions.

But we seldom take the time to ask ourselves a simple but necessary questions: Just because it is socially constructed, does that mean it is wrong or bad? All it means for something to be socially constructed - as the label suggests - is that a thing is artificially constructed by individuals rather than naturally existing. While baseballs, bats, and gloves exist, the rules of baseball are socially constructed. While dinner plates and teacups exist, the etiquette of the tea party are socially constructed. Does that mean that the fomer "really" existing things are any more beneficial than the latter? Does the fact that the rules of baseball and tea parties are socially constructed mean automatically that they are arbitrary? (Unfortunately, postmodernism taught us not only how to spot social constructions, but to automatically associate them with arbitrariness.)

Consider the following quote from an interview in the book Generation Me:

"My generation is much more independent. I pride myself on being a free and independent thinker. My wish is to break down the walls that humans have socially constructed." (Generation Me, Kindle edition, loc. 457)

That which is socially constructed is synonymous with a wall that needs to be "broken down," while that which is not socially constructed - in this case, that which is individually constructed, is to be worn like a badge connoting "free[dom] and independence."

Just as one can argue that blind acceptance of social constructions is a symptom of not thinking, so, I think, is the above reaction that "social constructions" should be avoided. The question that both sides should be asking is whether the social construction has merit - whether it exists for a good reason or whether it is, in fact, arbitrary.

Many socially constructed rules I can think of are not only completely non-arbitrary, but exist for a definite and good purpose. One example that always comes up is (what used to be) the etiquette of walking in crowds. Like rules of traffic, people used to adhere to the rule that one walks on the right. This rule, while socially constructed, serves (actually, served) a definite purpose of reducing the amount of bumping and careening that would occur when walking in public. (Nothing maddens me more than walking in a mall where no one follows this rule, and as a result, one must watch in front of them every second to avoid careening into other walkers.)

The use of money (and especially credit), the idea of tipping wait staff, and the courtesy of sending thank you notes to those who do something nice for you are all social constructions. But I don't see how anyone could argue that these things are arbitrary.

To me, the measure of whether to follow a social construction or not is to evaluate whether the rule is one that, if followed by everyone, does some good and, if ignored by everyone, would make things less good. (Certainly this is why the rule of walking on the right side is worthy of being followed, because when no one follows it, walking in crowds becomes more haphazard.)

Inevitably, someone reading this will wonder if its author is a conservative prig that bemoans the good old days when we followed rules for the sake of following rules. I assure this reader that I am nothing of the kind, but only one who believes that there is something to be said for rules when those rules can be shown (by the above method) to be well-advised and practical.

In fact, my fiancee and I are getting married in about six weeks and have decided to dispense with many of the arbitrary but oft-followed socially constructed rules. Here are a few rules that we have decided not to follow (much to the dismay of the more conservative ones in our families):

(a) we are going to hyphenate both of our names. (We will both be "Currie-Knight." We decided that doing it any other way does an injustice to the 50/50 nature of our fusing of identities.

(b) my parents are paying for the wedding (her parents have opted to give us a down-payment on a future house)

(c) I will not be wearing a tuxedo, but a very nice suit

(d) We are not going on a honeymoon (as getting the time off of work is tedious, and we have already taken big vacations together. We'd rather use the money towards something more useful.)

All of the rules that are broken above (taking the man's last name, the bride's parents paying for the wedding, wearing a tuxedo, honeymoon) are examples of social constructions that have no utility and are etiquette for the sake of etiquette. These are the types of social constructions that I think many have in mind when they express disdain for social constructions. Traffic laws, an economy built on credit, and the US Constitution are examples of social constructions that nobody seriously argues are arbitrary.)

So, why do we have so much disdain for anything smacking of "social construction"? Like so many other good ideas, I think the idea of nonconformity and skepticism of tradition is an idea that was just pushed too far. It is certainly good to be independent, but being so to the point of abandoning the mores of the job interview can be positively deleterious. It is okay to question authority, but to do so to the point of developing a knee-jerk reaction to anything that smack's of instruction or the imparting of wisdom can bite one in the ass. It is okay to rebel against rules of etiquette when such rules can be smacked down as arbitrary, but we must be mindful that many socially constructed things were socially constructed for a reason: they serve a valid social purpose of creating order.

So next time you get bumped into while strolling the aisles of the mall, ask yourself: are all social constructions arbitrary and wrong and arbitrary?

An Interesting Look Back

It has been quite a journey, but it has recently paid off. It is officlal that I am going to University of Delaware next year to start on my PhD study in Education. It is also official that I will be fully funded by the University.

All of this moved me to look at my University of Delaware application, its "essay questions" and my responses. I am going to print here the most interesting of the question/answers, which gets me into what I have long realized is a strange background.

Are there special circumstances related to your academic record that you feel we should know about? Have you ever been convicted of a crime? If the answer is yes, explain the circumstances, give the dates of the offense(s) and discuss what you learned from the circumstance.

While I have never been convicted of a crime, I can say that, at one time, graduating high school was far from a certainty. I remember well the meeting in Liberty High School’s guidance office where I was informed that, without serious concerted effort, I would be repeating the 11th grade. At the time, I was certainly not academically motivated and even toyed with dropping out of school.
Unfortunately, this apathetic attitude towards academics followed me through my undergraduate education, and this is why I find myself needing to apologize for my lackluster undergraduate GPA, and for my “extended stay” in undergraduate study.
I did graduate high school for two reasons: my parents’ desire to see me do so, and my thoughts of attending the esteemed Berklee College of Music, where could do what I loved: to play the drums and write songs. I made it into Berklee on academic probation and while I did well in most of my music classes, I merely tolerated the academic classes as a dry matter of course. I cared so little for academics that when the registrar’s office informed me in my fourth year that I would finish three (academic) credits shy of my degree, I decided that I would move on to Nashville anyhow. Songwriters don’t need degrees, and publishers don’t ask for academic resumes.

It took a full year of living as a struggling songwriter in Nasvhille for me to realize not only that everyone around me knew more than me, but also that this fact really bothered me. I began reading more, in attempt gain on my own the education that I should have already gotten. Once I started, I just kept going, reading in philosophy, science, literature, etc. I decided to get the remaining three credits to complete my Bachelors degree at a local community college so that I might try for a Masters. Much to my surprise, I gained admissions to the very selective University of Richmond and – as the saying goes – never looked back. The once academic-loathing kid, somehow became the student who could never read enough.

Explaining my academic history is uncomfortable for a few reasons. First, it forces me to be acutely aware of early shortcomings, if not outright failures. Second, it makes me wish that I had the type of standard academic history that does not take four paragraphs to explain or apologize for. Behind all that, though, I must admit that I am strangely proud of my non-traditional history: that I was the prime mover of my education, rather than a University. This is how it has been ever since. While I have attained one Masters degree (and am set to attain a second), it is fair to say that I do much more independent reading than my courses require, and have an enjoyment for learning that a more traditional academic history may not have instilled in me. It is this enjoyment for learning that I want to bring to PhD study and a career in academia.
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In many ways, I see myself in some of my students: unmotivated but possibly in posession of latent skills or motivations that might manifest later. This is why it is so frustrating to teach in the public schools. I think my experience has taught me, more than anything, that one cannot motivate the unwilling. The reason I got through high school was because my parents forced me. No high school teacher ever got me to love learning. That only happened when I began learning on my own.

So, in many ways, I see my role as a public school educator as helping kids get through with enough skill, discipline, and wherewithall to ensure that no opportunities are unduly closed to them. I would like to motivate, but I harbor no delusions that most students would recieve it. I wouldn't have.

As Mortimer Adler said, the best schooling prepares one for future education. K-12, he says, is not education, but schooling. Living is the "education" part.

"Don't read it! Just see the movie!"

Being a high-school teacher has, I fear, has made me more quick to anger when watching horrible parents. I never used to get too angry when in the presence of bad parents (like those who let their kids run around unatttended in the supermarket), but being a high-school teacher forces me to see poorly parented kids as potential poorly parented young adults.

Here is the most recent situation to get my blood boiling: a family friend has their elementary aged child in a school-sponsoered book club. The book they were assigned a few weeks ago has gone unread and, today, the family is going to see the movie (in leiu of reading the book).

Normally, a situation like this would be mildly annoying to me. But upon hearing about this, my "teacher mode" turned immediately on, and I have not been able to stop stewing over such a blatant act of parental irresponsibility. Here we have a great example of a parent tacitly informing their kids that skirting rules is completely permissible, and that the parents glowingly endorse such rule-skirting. In addition, this child (who actually does like to read) has now been introduced to the dilemma that all children eventually face: why read the book when I can just see the movie?

I recall when my parents found out that I had not read a required book for a high school class. What did they do? They called the teacher! They let the teacher know that I had not read the book, and advised the teacher to "catch me in the act" by pulling me aside and quizzing me on it. I did not find out that my parents put the teacher up to it until years later, and to tell the truth, I am glad they did. It encouraged me to read (if only by force) which eventually lead to a joy for reading.

Would I do what my parents did in this child's situation? Yes. Being a teacher has made me appreciate that, sometimes, one must be creative in teaching kids how and why to follow rules. Yes, this means that the child may not like you for a time, and yes, this certainly means that the child will be discomforted when the teacher "calls them out," but they will learn the lesson they should learn and be the better for it in the long run.

When I think of this story, I cannot help but think about kids I teach who expect A's simply because they show up to most of my classes (and the parents who back them up). I cannot help but think of the stduents who miss inexcusable amounts of time from school with their parents permission, and those whose parents don't make them do homework or study, but pretend that they value education.

With any luck, this student will never have a teacher in high school that has the audacity to set expecations and hold students accountable for them. Unfortunately, unless the student goes to a private high school, it seems unlikely that they ever will.

I am to be a PhD student!!

I just got news this evening that a journey that started around a year and a half ago is ending in my favor. After a long process of looking at PhD programs in education, I just recieved word that I was accepted for admissions by my first choice: the University of Delaware!

UD has one of the top 10 education programs in the country and I am very excited (I anticipate accepting the offer, contingent on financial considerations). I am to study under Dr. David Blacker, who specializes in the philosophy of education (and jurisprudence).

Of course, as in any good drama, there is good news and bad news. The bad news is that in these economic times, UD is unable to garauntee funding to all entering grad students, and I will not hear about whether I will be supported for a while (I have no idea how long that is). I don't anticipate a big problem here, but one never knows.

It has been a long and passionate process - from looking at schools and narrowing down choices to filling out the arduous applications - but I feel like it is finally coming to fruition.

I am to be a PhD student in education. This is truly awesome.

The Implacable Allure of Sports

Today is a unique day in the sports world; quite literally, two of the highest watched sporting events are being played today. First, there was the men's final of the Australian Open tennis (one of the most watched events worldwide and in Austrailia). Then, the Superbowl (THE most watched sporting event in the United States).

A few do not like sports at all. Others are completely indifferent to sports - take 'em or leave 'em. Some are postively fanatical about sports. Personally, I am indifferent to many sports like basketball, cycling, cricket, and (to my fiancee's chagrin) volleyball. I do, however, love to watch football and follow men's (and to a lesser degree, women's) tennis with a passion.

So what is so exciting about sports? Why do I gladly sit for five hours at a stretch just to watch 2 competitors hit a ball back and forth across a court? In an obvious sense, different people like, or love, sports for different reason. Some, generally athletes or the athletically inclined, like watching sports to admire the physical excellence that it entails. This is why many tennis fans love watching the excellent Roger Federer glide a backhand winner, and why football fans thrill to see Troy Polumalu make dazzling defensive plays. Like admierers of a musician's technical proficiency, some sports fans enjoyment comes from being able to marvel at athletes' abilities.

Of course, while some listen to music to admire its technical beauty, others listen to admire its emotional beauty. That is why I, a non-athlete for sure, watch sports. LIke any good reality show, sports provide unscripted drama. A close tennis match has an incomparable power to make my heart pound and keep me glued to the television (no matter how much work I really should be doing instead).

Pick a person or team to root for, though, and the intensity increases. I can certainly be entertained by a football game with teams I care nothing about, but it is nothing compared to the excited feeling of watching a New England Patriots or Baltimore Ravens game. (While I will watch the Superbowl this year, it will be nowhere near as exciting as when the Patriots were in last year's.)

The other thrill that sports provides but regular television does not (with the exception of reality shows) is the thrill of watching a yet-to-be-determined game become determined. Once we have a team or player to root for, the excitement comes from the very idea that their win is not assured, but can only be made (or lost) moment-by-moment. Every sports fan knkows that it is simply no real fun to watch a match/game the outcome of which is already known. How many times have we heard the horror story of the football fan who taped the game in his absence, made it home to watch the game, only to accidentally see the final score on the news. He can still watch the game - and it is the same game whether he knows the outcome or not - but the excitement of doing so will be all but dead.

Another often ignored reason that some watch sports is that it provides a non-burdensome outlet to channel aggression. I had to explain this last night when explaining to my fiancee why I sometimes like to watch the Ultimate Fighting Championships . While one can pretend that the reason we (guys WAY more than girls) watch "violent" sports is because of its artistry or technical excellence, these two things can just as easily be seen in ice-skating and freestyle gymnastics. We really watch UFC, boxing, kickboxing, and Australian-rules football for the thrill of watching guys get pummelled, bloodied, and beaten into submisison; we watch these because it gives a release to aggression (Wililam James's "Moral Equivalent to War" maybe?)

Whyever we watch sports, sports have been a part of our human nature, seemingly, since as far back as recorded history will go. For my sake and for the sake of millions of other sports lovers, I hope this trend continues.

Mock Trial

I have said so many negative things about my job as a high-school special educator that I feel like I am neglecting the positive things. (The former oustrips the latter but does not render it non-existent). So, for the past week, I have been debating on what positive things I can write about my job. At the top of the list: mock trial.

All teachers at my high school are required to "sponsor" at least one extra-curricular activity, and I was offered to be the co-coach of New Town's mock trial team. For those unfamiliar, mock trial is a competitive endeavor where two teams put on a 'court case.' At the beginning of the year, each team is handed a 'case book' with all the relevant information to the case, inclulding synopsis, affidavits, and case law. Teams may be called to 'put on' the part of the prosecution or defendants, and students play the part both of lawyers and witnesses.

At first, I wasn't quite excited about doing mock trial but now I am finding it to be one of the things that is getting me through this job. Being a special educator, I am often working with kids who are academically less-than-motivated. Mock trial sees me working with some of the best academic minds in the school. It gives me a chance to interact with thoughtful students and push them to think and analyze in a way that I might never be able to push some of the special education students. (This is not to say anything negative about the special education students, but simply to point out facts.)

Today, for instance, was quite rough. We have been administering the HSA standardized tests, and most of my special education kids are not taking the test seriously at all. (It is emotionally jarring to see kids not take seriously a test that could affect their ability to get a diploma.) By the time of mock trial practice, I was tired, hungry, and not in a very great mood.

One hour later, I have (at least a bit of) my invigoration back! We had a good "dry run" of the case (with me and the other coach playing the other team's parts). These kids are so enthusiastic, eager, and intelligent that they make a brilliant cap to a disasterous day.

I know I have a tendency to be very negative about my job, but there do exist good parts; as small as they might be, they sometimes help save me. Thank you, mock trial!

I quit...kind of!

Today, I finally told New Town High School that I would not be returning next year. A little before the halfway point in the year, the Baltimore County School system gives its employees a survey asking them their projections for whether they will return the next year. I have thought long and hard over the past several weeks and I have concluded that I cannot face another year at New Town High.

Is this the smart move? Though I am quite sure I will be accepted into a good PhD program in Education, I have not recieved any formal acceptance. So why tell New Town that I will not be back if I am not assured of where I will be next year?

The honest reason is that the past five months have made me accutely aware that I do not believe in what I do: I do not believe in the approach taken by the debacle that is high school special educaiton. As I've mentioned in previous posts, we special educators are as much "professional enablers" as we are anything. Where we should be educating, we are ensuring that students need not learn anything. Where we should be helping students reach standards, we adjust standards more than students. When students fail to meet established goals in spite of the many "accomodations" we give, we question not the student or whether the goals are unrealistic, but whether we are giving enough accomodations.

I am finding it more and more difficult to adhere to, and participate in, a system with which I so passionately disagree. I do not like the the everyday-more-common feeling that my job consists of "getting students through" even when, as is often the case, this is not in their best interest. Generally, "getting kids through" is a nice way to say, "do whatever is expedient."

When I was an instructional assistant, I was told by several special educators that the average shelf-life of special educators was two years. I never disbelieved them, but decided to see what I could do. Today, I actualized a decision a while in the making to become one of the special educators they cautioned me about.

If PhD falls through, I will likely try my hand at administering college-level disability support, which subscribes to a much less coddling model; there, colleges are a bit more stingy with accomodations, expect the individual to initiate support services, and do not offer any modifications to the curriculum (only supports and supplements to it).

That's that.

Thoughts on a Brand New Year

To be honest, I don't recall what I was doing 10 years ago when 1998 became 1999. All I can say for certain is that everything about me was different 10 years ago than it is now. I had different career aspirations, I was living in a different place, and I had very different ideas of where I would be 10 years in the future. All in all, I would say things worked out for the best.

The ringing in of the new year is, I think, an appropriate time to take stock: not just of what you are going to do with the next 365 days, but of how all the previous days prepared you for those ahead. Ten years ago, I was attending Berklee College of Music (Boston) with aspirations of becoming a Nashville songwriter or an in-demand jazz drummer. Today, I am a high school special educator with PhD aspirations who hardly ever has the time to play music.

If this were a movie, such an "ending" would be sad. It would be a cautionary tale of someone who "gave up on their dreams" and "settled" for a 9-to-5, who gave up the life of creativity for the rat race of the everyday.

Of course, life is not as linear as big-screen productions and scripts. As all but the most fortunate (or unfortunate) among us can attest, people change for no other reason than that life is contingent. We can change because we want to, we can change because we are forced to, because we want to adapt, because we are bored, or because . . . life just happens to us for better, worse, or neutral.

Ten years ago, I was graduating from Berklee College of Music. I did well there, won a few esteemed songwriting awards, and was urged by several professors to move to Nashville. They thought I would do well there. I did not. Songwriting is 10% about your talent and 90% about your ability to sell yourself and "schmooze." I might have had the 10%, but the 90% was wholly lacking.

While in Nashville, I worked at a bookstore andoften perused the shelves. One day, I began wandering in the philosophy section, deciding to try my hand at reading Camus's Myth of Syssiphus. I lacked the philosophic wherewithall to understand it, but was hooked nonetheless. Here was someone trying to grapple with a "big question" and I wanted to know more.

I began reading more in philosophy, biology, law, and other subjects until I decided that, while I was young, I might go and get a graduate degree; I can always, I told myself, come back to songwriting. I went to the University of Richmond (Virginia) and got a degree in political science.

From there, I moved back to my hometown of Eldersburg, MD, and, while waiting to apply to PhD programs, decided that I would get a job substitute teaching (I wanted to be a college professor and substituting at least would put me into the classroom, which beat most other jobs I was qualified for). One school I subbed for hired me as an instructional assistant, and I decided to try my hand at special education. This was the precursor to my accepting a full special education teacher position at a high school in Baltimore Co.

This brings me to the present. While I have always had a taste for the intellectual side of things, I tried very desperately over the past few years that I could do without it; that reading and thinking could be avocations to be dabbled in sparingly. My fiancee was the first to point out to me that I had not bought my own lie, and was miserable because of it.

So, my new year's resolution is to get into a PhD program in Education, where I can combine my love for intellectualism with my love for education and educating. My goal for this year is to not feel guilty at doing what I love simply because I have fun doing it - to realize that something can be fun and worthwhile at the same time. My goal for this year is to be happier than I was the previous year while working equally as hard.

When I reflect on my last 10 years, I struggle to make sense of what happened. How did I go from being a struggling songwriter to a special educator with academic aspirations? A led to B, and B led to C, but when the dots are connected, it looks a lot more like a disorderly zig-zag than a straight (or even close to straight) line. I don't think, though, that I am the only one that could say this about their past decade. We change; sometimes a little bit over long periods, and other times, rapidly over short periods. Sometimes there is a readily identifiable reason and sometimes the reason, if it is found at all, only appears in retrospect.

So here is to change. Let's never stop changing.

How To Enjoy Music - the Authoratitive Explanation!

In the middle of 2005, I reviewed Philip Glass's ablum North Star on amazon.com. The album, consisting of short pieces with keyborads, winds, and voice, was recorded in the late 1970's and as such, the recording is quite dated. The lack of a sync track, in particular, made for a very discombobulated recording (particularly with as many syncopated rythms as the pieces have). Because of this, I gave the CD a mixed review (3 of 5 stars).

Recently, an amazon shopper has left an interesting comment on my review. He suggests that I, and other listeners, should "prefer the magic of being fully engaged in the listening experience instead of merely critiquing a performance." His suggests that " inspiration and creativity should trump a less than perfect performance," because an overperfect execution may well result in music that is sterile and less-than-human.

Let me be the first (maybe not the first, but certainly not the last) to say that I agree with much that this critic says. I would much rather hear a flawed but beautifully soulful piece of music than a perfectly crafted piece by John Cage or Arnold Schoenberg. I could not imagine Tom Waits sounding as good if he were over-produced and lost the soulful grit in his voice.

But I do think that this critic takes things too far. First off, inspiration and creativity do not AWLAYS trump musicianship and technicality. No matter how creative the tune or original the melody, it can be performe4d well and it can be performed poorly. I could not imagine hearing Allen Hovanhess's Guitar Concerto's (a recent favorite) performed by a high-school band...and saying that Hovanhess's originality and creativity were able to overcome a dismal execution. And I have heard some great jazz tunes positively botched by inept soloists and accompanists. Thus, I have to say that while originality DOES often trump poor execution, to say that it ALWAYS does is an overstatement (as are so many things that use the word "always").

The main thing that struck me about this critic's crtiticism is his thought that by "merely critiquing a performance," I somehow could not have been "fully engaged in the listening experience."

I never realized that these two things - listening to a performance and critiquing the performance - were mutually exclusive things. In fact, I cannot see how paying attention to musical execution does anything but ENHANCE the listening experience. Look at any liner notes to any classical or jazz CD in existence and you will see not only a rundown of the compositions, but detailed attention to the performance. And as any music composer knows (I was a songwriting major at Berklee College of Music in my younger days), a composition is absolutely only as good as the performance of it. If it is played poorly, then for purposes of that performance, it IS poor.

So, while I see the author's point that one does not want to OVERanalyze a peformance - that can certainly get in the way of appreciating the music holistically - I don't see how one can be "fully engaged in the listening experience" while not paying good attention to the performance. In the case of Philip Glass's North Star CD, the music definitely suffered because of performance-based things like the lack of a click-track and some less-than-stellar vocals. Were I only judging Glass's score, I would say that critiquing the performance is besides the point. Since I was listening to a sound recording, I felt that I must appraise not only the score, but the recording of the sounds.

So to anyone who might suggest that the "listening experience" should not include appraising the performance of the music, I would suggest that this is much like trying to think about the "reading experience" with a blind eye to an author's ability to write.

Joseph Confronts Mary About Pregnancy

"Mary, I've been meaning to ask you something." (I must maintain my cool. I must maintain my cool.)

"Yeah, honey. Anything."

"Well, you've been looking rather...."

"Yes?"

"Rather...pregnant. I didn't want to say anything, because I don't want to offend. But, the signs are unmistakable. Between your increasing appetite, your strange moods, and your increase in girth, I have begun wondering..."

(Oh dear! What do I do? What do I do?)

"I mean, I trust you, Mary. I really do. But lately I have gotten the feeling that there is this strange vibe between you and the neighbor, Ezekiel. I have seen the way you look at him, and after that last carpentry job, two of my colleagues were gossiping and... So, what's the deal."

(Oh, dear. He knows! He knows!! He has figured out that I am pregnant and that I am not the virgin he thinks I am. I have to lie. Act calm.)

"Joseph... I have, um, something to tell you. It's just hard to get the words out, so give me a second." (What do I do? What do I say?")

"Okay. As long as you tell me what is going on. Take your time, baby."

"I know it is not going to sound good, so I will just... I will just out with it. I AM pregnant, Joseph."

"WHAT? I knew I shouldn't have trusted you. And just think; I stood up for you. I told everyone that you were a good Jewish woman, despite the rumors. I should have known better."

"No. Joseph. I swear. It is not what you think. It is not what you think at all."

"What do you mean, Mary? How could it not be what I think? You are freakin' pregnant with some other man's child!"

(I got it! I know what to say! Thank you, God.)

"Joseph, listen. It is not Ezekiel's kid. It is, uh, God's kid! It's cool. It's God's kid! And you...(gulp)... thought it was Ezekiel's kid! Ha ha! What a thought."

"For real?"

"Yes. Yes. It is God's kid. God impregnated me in my sleep. He chose me to bear his only son! Ezekiel had NOTHING to do with it. It's all God!"

"What? That is great. That is the coolest. And just think; I thought that you were having an affair with Ezekiel. I thought that all of my friends, including those who claimed to eye-witness you holding Ezekiel's hand and kissing his face, were telling the truth. Wait 'till I tell them that they were wrong. Wait 'till I tell him that your baby is God's child, and not his."

"Yeah. They must have been mistaken. Maybe they just saw Ezekiel with a woman that just looked a lot - an awful lot - like me. I am sure that they did not see me with Ezekiel, especially at the party last week. That was definitely NOT me with Ezekiel. No sir. That must have been some other woman they saw."

"What? How did you know about the party? Are you trying to fool me?"

"No. The only baby I am carrying is God's; not Ezekiel's. We can test the baby's DNA if you don't believe me."

"DNA testing isn't around yet, Mary."

"Oh, you are right. You will just have to trust me, then." (Whew! I am glad he bought it.)