Recognizing the Danger Signs

The beginning of the semester arrived on Monday for the community college where I am a full time assistant professor. I teach composition and creative writing and recently have taken on American Lit. I only have two face to face courses this semester, the other two being online (that’s a whole other post altogether) however it’s always nice to walk into a room of fresh faces at the beginning of the term.

This morning, while I was drinking my one designated cup of coffee for the day, I came across this article in The New York Times: College’s Policy on Troubled Students Is Under Scrutiny. Unless you’ve been living under a rock for the past few weeks, you’re aware of Jared Loughner opening fire in Arizona. Among his victims Representative Gabrielle Giffords. However, what I’ve found particularly compelling about this story is the narrative surrounding his attendance at Pima Community College.

I know I think this an important part of the overall picture because a). I’m a professor at a community college. 2). I had my own experience with a troubled student last spring. My student was young, erratic, and physical. He was bi-polar and ex-military. His behavior became increasingly unpredictable as the semester progressed to the point where he made his fellow peers uncomfortable. What finally drove it home for me, was when he showed up one day in my office looking for me while I was off campus for a meeting. He proceeded to talk to my officemate for several minutes, becoming more and more animated and making no sense whatsovever. When I returned from my meeting, he was long gone but my officemate and several other faculty told me I needed to file complaint. His behavior made them fear for my well being. This is the part of the story that I relate to the article from the Times. When I filed my complaint, I learned that this student had had a previous altercation in Financial Aid and that other students had complained about him. However, no one ever followed up on my complaint with me or my chair or the dean. Furthermore, my student vanished until the last week of classes when I received a letter letting me know he had been hospitalized and would not be back.

In the wake of the events in Arizona and even the incident at Virginia Tech, it is obvious that our community colleges need more support when it comes to students suffering from mental illness. I’m not saying that more resources or available care would have changed the outcomes for Loughner or Seung-Hui Cho (Virginia Tech) but I think the fact that authorities know something was wrong but didn’t know what to do about it is indicative of a larger problem. The only course of action seems to be to remove them immediately from the school, but in Loughner’s case there is speculation that this action may have served to aggravate him further.

What’s the answer? I think more education and more attention paid to students themselves. It was obvious to me that my student’s situation was not a priority and that just isn’t acceptable. We need a counseling center, with trained medical professionals. We need seminars for students and faculty. We need to stop waiting until something happens to take action.

Tuesday (Snow. Again.) Musings

I think I’m over winter. The weather forecasted “snow showers” for today but when I left at 7:30 this morning, the snow was coming down at a steady clip. Needless to say, the morning commute was a mess. My students were all late (understandably) and one student informed me that they had closed three of the major interstates. The weather service issued a Severe Winter Weather Advisory and it is in effect until noon. I hope it stops snowing, because otherwise the evening commute is going to be very messy.
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I’ve discovered a market, Georgetown Market, that sells meat from local Indiana farms as well as cheese, eggs, and baked goods. I’ve decided to start dividing my grocery shopping between Georgetown and the Farmer’s Market. I really want to support local farmers and I think this is important. As an important side note, RJ and I had pork chops last night and they tasted wonderful.
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This article gives me hope:

In a hundred ways, we pretend that screen experiences are books —
PowerBooks, notebooks, e-books — but even a child knows the difference. Reading books is an operation with paper. Playing games on the Web is something else entirely. I need to admit this to myself, too. I try to believe that reading online is reading-plus, with the text searchable, hyperlinked and accompanied by video, audio, photography and graphics. But maybe it’s just not reading at all. Just as screens aren’t books.

One of the ways I like to procrastinate is by browsing the NY Times Arts & Design section and looking at their slide shows. Here are a few of my favorite pieces:

“The Dessert,” 1940, by Pierre Bonnard

“Time of Change,” 1943, by Morris Graves

John Updike

This news is a bit surreal for me. Yesterday R and I were talking about Updike because we may be in a position to purchase a signed first edition copy of one of his novels. I carelessly mentioned that we should probably purchase said book because Updike is wonderful and he is also old, which means when he dies (I didn’t know he had lung cancer) the book will be worth even more. I believe I said “he’s going to kick it soon.”

Sigh.

Yes. Ahem. I know.

Anyway. Here is the link to the NY Times article:

John Updike, the kaleidoscopically gifted writer whose quartet of Rabbit Angstrom novels highlighted so vast and protean a body of fiction, verse, essays and criticism as to place him in the first rank of among American men of letters, died on Tuesday. He was 76 and lived in Beverly Farms, Mass.

Wednesday (Rainy) Musings

The computer lab where I teach my M/W classes is insanely cold. My hands were turning blue while I was teaching this morning. Not cool (pun intended).

I’m beginning to acquire a nice little collection of flash drives that were left behind in the lab. I’ve emailed all the students, but have heard back from none. Strange.
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Here is another take from the NY Times on why Americans just don’t get it (the Nobel Prize):

On Tuesday, Horace Engdahl, the permanent secretary of the Swedish Academy, the organization that awards the Nobel Prize in Literature, gave an interview to The Associated Press and, while not dropping hints about this year’s winner, seemed to rule out, pretty much, the chances of any American writer. “Europe is still the center of the literary world,” he said, not the United States, and he suggested that American writers were “too sensitive to trends in their own mass culture.” He added: “The U.S. is too isolated, too insular. They don’t translate enough and don’t really participate in the big dialogue of literature. That ignorance is restraining.”

And then he backtracks:

He insisted that the academy strictly followed Alfred Nobel’s rule that in awarding the prize no consideration should be given to an author’s nationality, and added: “It is of no importance, when we judge American candidates, how any of us views American literature as a whole in comparison with other literatures.”
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When Doctors, and Even Santa, Endorsed Tobacco


*courtesy of the NY Times
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I completely rewrote a poem yesterday. I don’t know if the rewrite works…

Monday Musings

This weekend my mom and sister drove in from Erie and we went to the Vera Bradley trunk show. It was awesome. I bought $250 worth of stuff for $98. My mom got a bunch of presents for her friends and we’re already making plans to go to the one in May. We also spent some time at Trader Joes and the T.J. Max Home store. Erie isn’t exactly the shopping mecca of the world, so we like to get our shop on when they come.

Kwe finished his first week at doggie school. He received good marks on his “report card” and I’m going to work with him on the skills that they introduced him to. I might take him back in about a month, but we’ll see. I am intrigued by this medication proposition, so I’m going to call the vet this week and get some more information.
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Here is your weekly fall poem:

Frog Autumn

Summer grows old, cold-blooded mother.
The insects are scant, skinny.
In these palustral homes we only
Croak and wither.

Mornings dissipate in somnolence.
The sun brightens tardily
Among the pithless reeds. Flies fail us.
he fen sickens.

Frost drops even the spider. Clearly
The genius of plenitude
Houses himself elsewhwere. Our folk thin
Lamentably.

Sylvia Plath
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Madonna never stops.

When I heard about the message that Alec Baldwin left his daughter, I thought he was an idiot. However, this article brings up an interesting point that I had never considered:

In short, it’s the women­folk who make the kids hate Dad. Dad then spirals out of control and leaves an obscene, emotionally violent message for his prepubescent daughter on her cellphone (as Baldwin notoriously did in 2007, calling her, among other things, a “rude, thoughtless little pig”). The message is leaked to the press, which really makes you wonder which parent should be tied to the back of a pickup truck and dragged down a gravel road at night, but nevertheless the father is left with egg on his face, and his daughter with one person fewer on her speed dial.

Check out the rest of the article from the NY Times.

Thursday Musings

I read about this on EV this morning. He makes some decent points, but I’m not sure if his criticism is so much about American literature or just Americans in general:

“The U.S. is too isolated, too insular. They don’t translate enough and don’t really participate in the big dialogue of literature,” Engdahl said. “That ignorance is restraining.”

We are isolated and we don’t translate enough. However, it seems like this comment falls under the same stereotypes I was warned about when I prepared to spend six months abroad my junior year in college. Americans are stuck up, we only worry about ourselves, we have no clue what is going on in the rest of the world, etc. While I think that these stereotypes have some kernel of truth, I also think that that insularity may have something to do with why American literature works. I keep think of Whitman, and how many scholars consider him cocky and far too celebratory of his own genius, but isn’t that part of what made and makes Whitman remarkable? Are we full of it? Probably. I think the real question is have we earned the right to be, and in some instances I would say yes.
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John Ashbery has a poem in this weeks issue of The New Yorker:

The Virgin King

They know so much more, and so much less,
“innocent details” and other. It was time to
put up or shut up. Claymation is so over,
the king thought. The watercolor virus
sidetracked tens.

Something tells me you’ll be reading this on a train
stumbling through rural Georgia, wiping sleep
from your eyes as the conductor passes through
carrying a bun. We’re moving today,
today on the couch.

I have a hard time with Ashbery. In grad school I really struggled but I was intrigued. Lately, spurred on by his collages and new poem, I’ve considered giving him another look. I know it was my failing that caused me to back away from him. That being said, I can’t honestly say I know what the hell this poem is about, but I like it and that’s a good place to start.
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I mentioned EV above and on a similar note, I finished reading Harry Revised the other night. I loved it. I loved everything about it. I started to notice that the last third of the book (when everything begins to unravel for Harry) that the humor became scarce, but I wasn’t bothered by it. It seemed just a natural progression through the lives of these characters and at the end of the book I was profoundly sad but hopeful for Harry. Hopeful that in forgiving his wife, he could begin to forgive himself.
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Monday Musings

<!– /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:"Cambria Math"; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:roman; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-1610611985 1107304683 0 0 159 0;} @font-face {font-family:Calibri; panose-1:2 15 5 2 2 2 4 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:swiss; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-1610611985 1073750139 0 0 159 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; margin-top:0in; margin-right:0in; margin-bottom:10.0pt; margin-left:0in; line-height:115%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} p.MsoNoSpacing, li.MsoNoSpacing, div.MsoNoSpacing {mso-style-priority:1; mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} .MsoChpDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; mso-default-props:yes; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} .MsoPapDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; margin-bottom:10.0pt; line-height:115%;} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.0in 1.0in 1.0in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} — Your fall poem of the week:

October (section I)
Is it winter again, is it cold again,
didn’t Frank just slip on the ice,
didn’t he heal, weren’t the spring seeds planted
didn’t the night end,
didn’t the melting ice
flood the narrow gutters
wasn’t my body
rescued, wasn’t it safe
didn’t the scar form, invisible
above the injury
terror and cold,
didn’t they just end, wasn’t the back garden
harrowed and planted–
I remember how the earth felt, red and dense,
in stiff rows, weren’t the seeds planted,
didn’t vines climb the south wall
I can’t hear your voice
for the wind’s cries, whistling over the bare ground
I no longer care
what sound it makes
when was I silenced, when did it first seem
pointless to describe that sound
what it sounds like can’t change what it is–
didn’t the night end, wasn’t the earth
safe when it was planted
didn’t we plant the seeds,
weren’t we necessary to the earth,
the vines, were they harvested?

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Louise Glück

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RETRACTION

The Sarah Palin banned book list is false. I was a tad suspicious of it considering that the books were all highly targeted on other, genuine “banned lists.” If you type Sarah Palin and banned book list into google, you can find all the particulars. Snopes.com also has a post about it.
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Agatha Christie on tape.

Is it wrong to be disturbed by the fact that the current number one best seller in hard cover non-fiction is Stori Telling by Tori Spelling? Not only is the rhyming terrible but notice how she spelled “stori.” Yikes!

As a bright spot, D. Sedaris’s When You Are Engulfed in Flames is #4 after Obama Nation. Sigh…

It appears that poets are beginning to follow celebrities in that they are branching out into other mediums and talents. This isn’t anything new but I have to say that these collages are pretty neat.

Here are some of my favorites courtesy of the NY Times:


Wednesday Musings

Paul Auster’s new book, Man in the Dark, received a review in the New York Times.

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This article was also posted on the New York Times website. This brief excerpt allows some food for thought:

Young people “aren’t as troubled as some of us older folks are by reading that doesn’t go in a line,” said Rand J. Spiro, a professor of educational psychology at Michigan State University who is studying reading practices on the Internet. “That’s a good thing because the world doesn’t go in a line, and the world isn’t organized into separate compartments or chapters.”

The New York Times is going to continue this series of articles about how technology is changing our reading and writing culture as Americans. It’s worth a look.
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A new Emily Dickinson book with a sexy name.
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/08/24/books/review/Seymour-t.html?ref=books
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I now have a desk and bookcase in my office!