I am currently in the midst of my second teaching practicum. This time around, I was placed at Markville Secondary School teaching math. I have two grade 11 classes, both of which are full of very focused students who have full intentions of going to university to become doctors, dentists, etc.
As soon as I arrived, I began teaching the quadratics unit (i.e. parabolas). Within a week and a half, I was given the responsibility of writing the unit test for all of the grade 11 classes. Forget about a student writing it, drafting the damn thing from scratch was a long, arduous process.
So, after about ten full hours, many revisions, and several arguments with other teachers in the math department ("This solution is just as good as the other!" "No! It doesn't demonstrate full understanding! And it doesn't factor in...."), I have two final versions of my first full unit test!
"No, you may not write it after March Break."
I thought tonight would be stress-free, not needing to prepare for anything other than my grade 9's. But oddly enough, I find myself a bit anxious.
I'm constantly wondering, "Is it too hard?" "Will they do well?" Not only am I worried for my students sake; they don't all get it, but bless their souls, they give it their all. But a poor test mark from my students, in my opinion, reflects poorly on me; both as a teacher of the principles and as the evaluator. Either I didn't teach it well, my method of evaluation was poor, or a combination of the two.
So, to my kids....and I know some of you may be reading this since some of you clever bunch found me on Facebook; log the hell off of your computer and study!!! For both of our sakes.
Friday afternoon, walking underground to reach the subway, I was jamming away to some tunes. Then I heard a voice, and don't ask me how, but I knew it was directed at me.
Removing my headphones, I looked to my left, and saw a man. Sensing my confusion, he repeated himself
"(in tagalog) How you doin'?"
"(tagalog) Fine thanks. Yourself?"
"(Also fine, thanks.)"
I was impressed. His accent was spot on, and he sounded very confident in what he was saying. I thought he may be fluent.
"Your tagalog is excellent! Are you fluent?"
"No, not really."
"Well, either way I'm impressed."
"Actually, I do become fluent when I'm attracted to someone and I want to impress them."
A face that sets off gaydars the world over.
"Whoa...this is new." I thought to myself. Never had a dude hit on me before. As we reached the bottom step, he went to his right, I went the other way, and my oncoming train roared into the station, drowning out the awkwardness.
"Anyway, have a great weekend!"
"Yeah, you too."
You can see it in his face, the realization that I was not "his type". It sorta said "OK, I get it, you're straight." Not that I was trying to bugger him off, I thought I ended the conversation nicely, and deserve a pat on the back for being nice whilst yet establishing non-gayness.
And I guess it's cool to be thought of as attractive enough to approach. Still, kinda wish it was good-looking girl. Oh well, I'll take the ego boost.
A nice story I thought I'd share. ------------------------------- Thief repents after 21 text messages
A Chinese thief has returned a mobile phone and thousands of yuan he stole from a woman after she sent him 21 touching text messages, Xinhua news agency said.
Pan Aiying, a teacher in the eastern province of Shandong, had her bag containing her mobile phone, bank cards and 4,900 yuan ($A800) snatched by a man riding a motorcycle as she cycled home on Friday, Xinhua said, citing the Qilu Evening News.
Pan first thought of calling the police but she decided to try to persuade the young man to return her bag.
She called her lost phone with her colleague's mobile phone but was disconnected. Then she began sending text messages.
"I'm Pan Aiying, a teacher from Wutou Middle School. You must be going through a difficult time. If so, I will not blame you," wrote Pan in her first text message which did not get a response.
"Keep the 4,900 yuan if you really need it, but please return the other things to me. You are still young. To err is human. Correcting your mistakes is more important than anything," Pan wrote.
She gave up hope of seeing her possessions again after sending 21 text messages without a reply.
But on her way out on Sunday morning, she stumbled over a package that had been left in her courtyard only to discover it was her stolen bag. Nothing had been taken.
"Dear Pan: I'm sorry. I made a mistake. Please forgive me," a letter inside said.
"You are so tolerant even though I stole from you. I'll correct my ways and be an upright person."
This past week, I walked into a Chapter's to calm my nerves and soothe my psyche. Walking through the fiction section, I noticed that every fourth or fifth shelf contained a batch of books coloured in hot pink, bright yellow, and orgasmic orange. What other book genre would boast such colours? Chick-lit!
What is chick-lit? Chick-lit is an abbreviation for "chick literature", or girly novels. Some examples would be the Shopaholic series, and the "Something Borrowed, Something Blue" books. I would even group in some romantic, dramatic novels, such as "The Time Traveller's Wife". Since I was bored with nothing to do, I picked some of them up and started reading a bit.....who am I kidding? I picked them up because I was insanely interested.
VS As a guy's guy, let me tell you: this is a no-brainer.
I admit it, I love novels that deal with issues that are considered girly: most notably, love, dating and romance. Unbeknownst to many of my peers and family members, I've read, and own, several dramatic novels that can be considered chick-lit (think again if you think I'm going to list the titles!).
Although the interest is there, I can't read the extremely girly books (the one's covered in the aforementioned colours). Not only because I'll have to surrender my balls at the register when I voluntarily pay for these books, but because they approach the topics of interest from the female psyche. Wanting to read a chick-lit, I was faced with a dilemma. So I did the only thing I thought I could do--I immediately went home and started googling "girly novels for guys" and putting in the appropriate queries on amazon.ca and chapters.ca. And I found some interesting things.
I stumbled across a blog of a (female) romance writer, who states that "22% of romance readers are male.", although the percentage of these male readers who are coerced into reading them by their girlfriends/wives is not mentioned. Second, in England, dick-lit, or "lad lit", as it is referred to over there, is a surging literary genre. Hence the rise of UK lad lit writer Nick Hornby, who wrote "About a Boy" and "High Fidelity", books that may be considered girly but approach the subjects with the male psyche in mind. Third, on amazon.ca, there are several guy readers who have posted their lists of favourite dick-lit books (I'm sticking to my own label for the genre).
It's great that there are more dick-lit books coming out, but..more, more I say! Hell, there are some of us that want to read up on all that dating/romance stuff too. We deserve it. And if you're laughing it up with the revelation that I'm a dating/romance junkie, suck my dick-lit.
Yesterday afternoon, I had a pleasant, and somewhat inappropriate, surprise. In the mail was the latest issue of Shape magazine. If you're unfamiliar with the publication, it's your average, run-of-the-mill women's magazine. It advises women on how to lose weight, get the man of their dreams, and in the current issue, eliminate an evil presence in a woman's bed.
Shape up with gorgeous hair!
I thought "Oh, my mom subscribed." Nope, apparently I did; it was addressed to me. I have no idea how I ended up with a subscription to this magazine. I didn't sign up for anything, and so far, none of my friends have revealed themselves to be the perpetrators of a prank.
One may think I have no use for this magazine, but so far I've found several. The front cover has a beautiful picture (albeit airbrushed) picture of Katherine McPhee (American Idol runner-up to 50-year old winner Taylor Hicks). It provides me with several unique exercises to tone my lower body into those long, beautiful shapely legs all women strive for. And I now know the sex secrets men wish women knew!
And with the Christmas break now in full force, I have a lot of time to apply my new-found workout techniques. The holiday season is shape-ing up for sure!
More like Bore-yx and Crake. Before I get started, I'd like to mention that I flip flopped between "Bore-yx and Crake" and "Snore-yx and Crake". I also wanted to title it "Bore-yx and Crappy", but a friend pointed out that "Crake" rhymes with "cake", not "crack-e".
When I asked for a book recommendation, a friend of mine brought up "Oryx and Crake", a novel released in 2004 by renowned Canadian author Margaret Atwood. I had never read an Atwood novel (not even in high school), so I decided to take a chance. A few other people I know have mentioned how good it was, and it was short-listed for the Man Booker Prize. The book seemed to be bursting at the seams with credentials and accolades.
The premise sounded interesting enough; a drifter drifts alone in a dystopian world after his friend's attempt at molding a utopian society went to shit. What was once the world we now know has become a desolate wasteland, and the drifter, unfortunately, survived the armageddon. His name is Snowman, but he used to be called Jimmy. Ever since that fateful event, the man has dubbed himself "Snowman." Why "Snowman"? What significance does a snowman hold in this man's life that has caused him to alter his ego around it? Did he enjoy snowballing with girls in the past? We'll find out.
I'm no author, but whether you're writing a paragraph, novel, dissertation, or essay, the structure goes as follows: introduction, body, conclusion. Notice how the introduction comprises only 1/3 of the overall structure, not 9/10.
I can't even say that the plot moves at a snail's pace, it simply doesn't move. Things finally begin to pick up around the last little bit, by which time readers may have tuned out (I've stopped books before just because they were utterly bad). In the end, I finished the book, and though I can honestly say I'm glad I did, the payoff in the end wasn't worth sitting through 250 pages of introduction and set-up. The only reason I'm glad to have finished it is to say "I've read an Atwood novel." If her other books are as boring as this one, this is an accomplishment I'm boasting for the wrong reasons. I'm likening it to a medal of survival instead of a literary status symbol.
Now, some comments on small parts of the story....(minor spoilers coming up).....
What is the deal with Crake and Jimmy watching porn? Jimmy speaks fondly of when he and his childhood buddy would watch internet porn, together, in the comfort of his bedroom. Jimmy doesn't go into further detail, and he admits that the porn videos eventually got boring. Despite the increasing boredom, the two managed to make the time pass, together....there's something unsettling about two heterosexual teenaged guys enjoying their sausages together, without the buns.
A computer simulation of Jimmy and Crake's teenaged years.
Finally, I will also never come to understand Jimmy's fascination with Oryx. Yes, she is beautiful, but what a fucking tease. "Oh Jimmy, why do you keep asking me that?" "Oh Jimmy, why do you always want to know that?" Maybe if you gave him a straight answer he'd stop asking.
(end spoilers)
You do eventually find out why Jimmy renamed himself Snowman. After the world went to shit, he just picked it. Neither snowmen, nor snowballing, held any significance in life. I don't even think winter was ever a major setting in the story. He could've fashioned a name that paid homage to his forgotten lover Oryx, or his beloved pet from childhood (for whom he still weeps), but no, he goes for the most insignificant, inert nickname possible...Snowman. That climax is more non-existent than a faked orgasm.
If you're a big Atwood fan, I suppose you'd like this book. If that's the case, you've probably already read it. So for the rest of you, stay clear and read something else. There are better ways to pass the time; like watching internet porn with a close friend.
If you watch any television, you may have seen a commercial advertising a new video game titled "Gears of War." The story of the game is typical of many other action games; an alien race has come to earth to wipe out the human race for some unknown reason. The game itself, although very familiar, has enough new gameplay elements to make it fairly unique amongst the hordes of action-shooter games out there.
But what is it about Gears of War that has my attention? The commercial. It's absolutely beautiful.
It doesn't capture the feel of the game at all. The game is non-stop, pulse-pounding action without the dramatic spin. But I don't know...I love this commercial. And I may get a bit poetic and deep about it....
I love how the main character is forced to run for his life while he's pondering the remants of yesterday's world. Franticaly running through the ruined city, he desperately searches for a place to hide. And when he thinks he's safe, he sees the very trouble he tried to escape from, waiting for him, staring him down. Realizing escape is no optin, the main character, overwhelmed, and possibly frightened, braces himself and stands his ground. And as the lights of valour pulse the room, the trouble bears down on him, snuffing out his last ditch effort to live (I'm of the opinion that the main character dies in the end).
I think it's so beautiful that the advertisement sidesteps the hard punk rock music that is normally associated with these genres of entertainment.
Here's the actual music video if you wanted to hear the whole song...it's called "Mad World" by Gary Jules (this is a cover, by the way).
