tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-49569896390738439542024-03-15T21:09:36.715-04:00Science teacherBreaking out of the classroom into the world....doylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12901661320505882735noreply@blogger.comBlogger1445125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956989639073843954.post-60655418620872899882021-10-02T12:12:00.001-04:002021-10-02T12:13:00.656-04:00Stealing the souls of children<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-size: large;">"People pay for what they do,and still more for what they have allowed themselves to become. And they pay for it very simply; by the lives they lead."</span><br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">James Baldwin</span> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgluFstnyKv-bL-CCNORRQoH3wQ-JE4rTjrBCshTGghTxqH0OTFoHSjLXyzre10QcC6sXKJ3kAloOK6EbLTcnc0nnfpXdLcNSJ_gmGK3Gr9XH4Vc7obJwI0f4E49j5sktvXCw41F9rQUlYu/s1600/horseshoecrab+baby.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="679" data-original-width="678" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgluFstnyKv-bL-CCNORRQoH3wQ-JE4rTjrBCshTGghTxqH0OTFoHSjLXyzre10QcC6sXKJ3kAloOK6EbLTcnc0nnfpXdLcNSJ_gmGK3Gr9XH4Vc7obJwI0f4E49j5sktvXCw41F9rQUlYu/s320/horseshoecrab+baby.jpg" width="319" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My hand holding a creature from the bay</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
In the end, it's the ground that will save us, if we are, or even want, to be saved.<br />
<br />
We're of the mud, of the air, of the water, of the sun. We diminish the folks before us on this once fine land when we "honor" these as metaphors.<br />
<br />
We diminish our ancestors from our homelands who spoke of the spirits and the blurring of the lines between the living and the dead as autumn darkness presses on our souls.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizXOiyckiKwCQfXzoc6D6D8Kx3mnCco041-OzUyyl2mX2tyawgV7pAJg6qvuycBDr8-GXe3J5Z8vJYat2H0c3E3GoSIxDGuvR4_33pJMewColSGNhRHq2diz8IuKC7PMI7WrxEKsj9KzOF/s1600/Lightmatter_cliffs_of_moher_in_County_Clare_Ireland.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="720" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizXOiyckiKwCQfXzoc6D6D8Kx3mnCco041-OzUyyl2mX2tyawgV7pAJg6qvuycBDr8-GXe3J5Z8vJYat2H0c3E3GoSIxDGuvR4_33pJMewColSGNhRHq2diz8IuKC7PMI7WrxEKsj9KzOF/s320/Lightmatter_cliffs_of_moher_in_County_Clare_Ireland.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cliffs of Moher, County Clare (<a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Lightmatter_cliffs_of_moher_in_County_Clare_Ireland.jpg" target="_blank">Aaron Logan via Wikimedia</a>)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
These are not simply metaphors or myths or models. They are ways to understand the world.<br />
<br />
You cannot grasp a fistful of earth through a screen.<br />
Augmented reality is neither.<br />
We are stripping the souls from our children.<br />
<br />
We become who we deserve to become.<br />
But we should let our children decide whether a soul is worth keeping.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Winter is coming, again.</span></div>
<br />doylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12901661320505882735noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956989639073843954.post-73036890203327290942019-11-17T09:55:00.002-05:002019-12-14T10:56:25.777-05:00November duskIt's mid-November and the shadows are long--the sun slips over the horizon less than 10 hours a day now here in these parts.<br />
<br />
It's near dark when I walk home, crossing our town green, as I do several hundred times a year. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-ZwfMTPAh-p_2D11nF7gPb-xzwMDi0Z7pnVPBwnEYD8HEPFc-KTITKJS8Sc2IvJkTIm23KYk59QMEhcrenkRxgU-8DcnkmSIxCBqBq1l5pVbnPWC2UpHKowf1snI9QY7HKKJNJGHiYxtx/s1600/Ground_05_UV_H_CM_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="1024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-ZwfMTPAh-p_2D11nF7gPb-xzwMDi0Z7pnVPBwnEYD8HEPFc-KTITKJS8Sc2IvJkTIm23KYk59QMEhcrenkRxgU-8DcnkmSIxCBqBq1l5pVbnPWC2UpHKowf1snI9QY7HKKJNJGHiYxtx/s400/Ground_05_UV_H_CM_1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Woodland ground cover 2 (owned by <a href="http://www.mb3d.co.uk/" target="_blank">maxTextures</a>)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
There's mystery in the shadows. Our ancestors saw spirits, and so will you if you lurk outside during dusk. The animals are aware of you, and so, I suspect, are the trees. <br />
<br />
As winter looms, I watch the light change under my feet. (I look down a bit more now that I am getting older--the roots of the sycamore are determined to get me.)<br />
<br />
But here is where words fail--when you walk at dusk over the fallen leaves, when it's not quite light enough to see colors yet not so dark you cannot sense the colors, the edges of each leaf appear to glow as long as you keep moving. <br />
<br />
No doubt there is some neuro-evolutionary advantage to this, some physiological explanation, some modern means of dispelling any reference to magic.<br />
<br />
But there it is.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://wfamilymedicine.com/health-problems/optimized-perception-in-the-twilight-zone/" target="_blank">(Science ruins magic again....) </a></span></div>
doylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12901661320505882735noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956989639073843954.post-32322310861194527212019-08-21T08:29:00.002-04:002019-08-21T08:30:20.294-04:00Natural selection and the battle for your child's soulI get why folks want to ban the teaching of natural selection as the driving force behind the evolution of all living things on Earth. A child who grasps natural selection faces a fundamental challenge to her place in the universe.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKZwhlamN2FWd1_fretFVhZQwWE-N9Q_X6R6N05A39kfOw7k9ks8eqjvRPQOQVhzPDYajz6GQAIj05e87LyEnGNe8y1Q6KdUy76PHPmByOTMng4FaTAJ-1YQ48_gg3jzCasTV4bJppUBT6/s1600/Editorial_cartoon_depicting_Charles_Darwin_as_an_ape_%25281871%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="669" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKZwhlamN2FWd1_fretFVhZQwWE-N9Q_X6R6N05A39kfOw7k9ks8eqjvRPQOQVhzPDYajz6GQAIj05e87LyEnGNe8y1Q6KdUy76PHPmByOTMng4FaTAJ-1YQ48_gg3jzCasTV4bJppUBT6/s320/Editorial_cartoon_depicting_Charles_Darwin_as_an_ape_%25281871%2529.jpg" width="237" /></a></div>
<br />
While some folks might encourage a child's quest to seek awareness of her place in the universe, most parents (in this part of the world, anyway) already have a pretty good idea what they want their children to believe, and usually because they believe that they are looking out for the child's best interests.<br />
<br />
No one wants their baby to go to Hell, so kneel before the Tabernacle.<br />
No one wants their child batting last in Little League, so keep the back elbow up.<br />
<br />
Much of what passes for understanding evolution in this country is, well, just another form of religion. You pick a side, you wave a banner, you demonize the others. We cannot help ourselves--our tendency to religiosity may be built into our genes.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_uPFaYi0w6SDdMmN3VozCnm0oAdnjk71RU1C_kX-W_CxZqKjBLx6NwP8W8EqLVrd_FQoq89aTEldKkSmyaUyeA9hgaoLf2lbnSxmoxNVzYhb9qqblHKtFvknp3skwb6Wius46JI2YVnTZ/s1600/darwin_evolution_tree.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="339" data-original-width="337" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_uPFaYi0w6SDdMmN3VozCnm0oAdnjk71RU1C_kX-W_CxZqKjBLx6NwP8W8EqLVrd_FQoq89aTEldKkSmyaUyeA9hgaoLf2lbnSxmoxNVzYhb9qqblHKtFvknp3skwb6Wius46JI2YVnTZ/s320/darwin_evolution_tree.jpg" width="318" /></a></div>
<br />
Natural selection is a simple model to grasp (though the vastness of geologic time it takes extends beyond my imagination). Its ramifications blow the mind. <br />
<br />
Humans were not, it turns out, inevitable. The earthworm is as evolved as you. The countless other living beings among us do not exist <i>for</i> us, they exist with us, likely for the same unfathomable (though explainable) reasons we exist.<br />
<br />
I still find comfort making the Sign of the Cross, and if you push, yes, a big part of who I am believes that it matters beyond whatever psychological relief it brings. I doubt I would believe that if I were raised Hindu, but I wasn't, and my beliefs are strong and deeply ingrained, if (perhaps) irrational.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHeVWdw2JBXXZpEuuM-imUyFAmD4Z9zZImjKjYpL07Y1FMdgtx3CY_NXvusODx5d3X7AjxeG1LtOKjCJAOxB5mMml-QZcBxhP9x0tZQ5gufImiSJiyqDrm8fAI4tTiGIDtQbrQrd0cz09V/s1600/winter+09-10+328.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHeVWdw2JBXXZpEuuM-imUyFAmD4Z9zZImjKjYpL07Y1FMdgtx3CY_NXvusODx5d3X7AjxeG1LtOKjCJAOxB5mMml-QZcBxhP9x0tZQ5gufImiSJiyqDrm8fAI4tTiGIDtQbrQrd0cz09V/s320/winter+09-10+328.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Natural selection rubs up against my less than rational beliefs. Natural selection will do the same to a thinking child, no matter what her religion.<br />
<br />
Teachers want a child to use her mind. Her parents fear for her soul. I do not know what either "mind" or "soul" means, but I do know that if you believe that the mind and soul are competing entities, evolution by natural selection is going to be perceived as a fundamental threat to your child's well-being.<br />
<br />
I am a science teacher; I teach biology; I will share the fundamental "tenet" central to understanding the diversity of life on Earth.<br />
<br />
I am not going to ask a child to "believe in" evolution--there is nothing to "believe in" in science beyond the acceptance of the observable natural world as the premise for the models and explanations used in science, trust in rational thought, and a willingness to alter or abandon prior understandings when new contradictory evidence emerges.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIVas4QEnjFnZisNA8EewSTVyvL5Q4UWscqFEc5LYDb2Gb_ry9f1keE5SVJMJQ8nEG-hzhE7uwV1KYLZ-De22kw5QvMK-lkxgPUYmW5hjqjNBSizVaASp_KM9Eepg6u9cw2AuWbbbmOki2/s1600/flag.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="434" data-original-width="623" height="222" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIVas4QEnjFnZisNA8EewSTVyvL5Q4UWscqFEc5LYDb2Gb_ry9f1keE5SVJMJQ8nEG-hzhE7uwV1KYLZ-De22kw5QvMK-lkxgPUYmW5hjqjNBSizVaASp_KM9Eepg6u9cw2AuWbbbmOki2/s320/flag.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
I sympathize with the parents who believe that they are fighting for their child's soul, but I am an American living in a republic dependent on a thinking citizenry bound by our Constitution. If you want a public education system that favors religion over rational thought, there are plenty of theocracies around the globe doing just that.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Glad I teach in New Jersey.....</span></div>
doylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12901661320505882735noreply@blogger.com30tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956989639073843954.post-2951373631020992482019-06-21T16:12:00.001-04:002019-06-21T16:12:16.080-04:00Solstice graduation<blockquote style="color: #8e7cc3;">
<b><span style="font-size: large;">"The eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not seen, man’s hand is not able to taste, his tongue to conceive, nor his heart to report, what my dream was." </span></b><br />
<div style="color: black; text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Bottom, <a href="http://shakespeare.mit.edu/midsummer/full.html"><i>Midsummer Nights Dream</i></a></span></div>
</blockquote>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilTPBWpzki7yz-HcNR7fe7-zIHD_O-xxbSRxdTauOqTNqLBK7BKNNr8Fmmg2igw28bCZqNRGFJ0PGK7Dmu2DHg38Igiv5OxKD1avlBoNH0QBZsGht575tAYDR46GNehmZgphN6L7jhWd4/s1600/titania_bottom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="248" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilTPBWpzki7yz-HcNR7fe7-zIHD_O-xxbSRxdTauOqTNqLBK7BKNNr8Fmmg2igw28bCZqNRGFJ0PGK7Dmu2DHg38Igiv5OxKD1avlBoNH0QBZsGht575tAYDR46GNehmZgphN6L7jhWd4/s320/titania_bottom.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Except in June.<br />
<br />
Just about every day this week I grabbed a few small, dark cherries from the small trees lining Liberty Street--just the right bitterness to counter the almost too rich fruitiness. The sun seems to have frozen in the north, teetering a week or two before starting our slow plunge back to darkness.<br />
<br />
Life brims mid-June, feeding on the energy that bathes the Earth this time of year. The energy starts to dwindle tomorrow. Tonight I put my shoes away for the summer,unless, of course, there'a a wake. I took them off as I left our graduation ceremony. The ice returns in just a few months, as inevitable as the wakes that keep my shoes busy.<br />
<br />
If you pay attention to these things, the dwindling light, the mad dancing of organisms in the June dusk, the aroma of honeysuckle drifting through your skull, the incessant buzzing of hundreds, thousands of critters aware of you, you'd go mad, of course, a Mid-Summer's Night Dream kind of insanity, <br />
<br />
And many of us do--pay attention and go mad--mid-June, midsummer, when living requires little, as fine a time as any to toss a class of young adults out into the world.<br />
<br />
And how many are "college and career-ready"? Not sure what that even means.<br />
<br />
But I am sure of this--several hundred children from many different cultures, from many different lands, from many different circumstance, left our building tonight having an idea of what is possible, of what democracy can look like. A lot of them left our building "college ready" for schools they cannot afford, and "career ready" for jobs that left north Jersey a generation ago.<br />
<br />
They are kind, they are brave, they are bright, and they are now adults entering a world the ruling class does not (or will not) recognize. As we turn inexorably to November, to darkness, to fear, I hope that a child's new-found knowledge of how the natural world gives her pause before she plunges into cynicism, or to self-loathing.<br />
<br />
It's a beautiful world out there, but a world defined by limits imposed by our sun, our soil, or water. Our children are of this world, so long as they live. This matters more than any games imposed by wealthy gentlemen governing from hundreds of miles away.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.bloomfield.k12.nj.us/">Congratulations to our Class of 2019.</a> This is your world, get to know it beyond the boundaries imposed by human words and limited ideas. Embrace it like you own it.<br />
<br />
Because you do.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Teaching matters.<br />
The print is <a href="http://www-english.tamu.edu/pers/fac/andreadis/_aha412pw/plays.html">Titania</a>, by Joseph Noel Patton, 1850.</span></div>
doylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12901661320505882735noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956989639073843954.post-78181108323491037262019-06-17T19:10:00.001-04:002019-06-17T19:12:07.982-04:00Peeling garlicI read an article on how to save time peeling garlic.<br />
<br />
There are many--just Google it and you will find almost 75 million entries. All to "save" time.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH-2IfpQo_d1yKGmH_SQMPF-K5BPaQxV6LySFplAzCwUUtKwQ44jL-3cYtayLBsIAftJgJaee2FeU4yVf8YXL55sxm-ofIKMXYir7Js0zeoACuiNz0_n88If7VUtGjqwl-aCOvyUmoLNfl/s1600/garlic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1187" data-original-width="1481" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH-2IfpQo_d1yKGmH_SQMPF-K5BPaQxV6LySFplAzCwUUtKwQ44jL-3cYtayLBsIAftJgJaee2FeU4yVf8YXL55sxm-ofIKMXYir7Js0zeoACuiNz0_n88If7VUtGjqwl-aCOvyUmoLNfl/s320/garlic.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Why not enjoy the act itself? This intimate unwrapping of a clove unlike any other clove on an evening unlike any other evening with two hands unlike any other hands in the universe is a gift, given to us.<br />
<br />
Here. Now.<br />
<br />
Why rush? You are not starving if you are peeling garlic.<br />
<br />
Your guests can wait, or they can help you peel, under the fading sun as the lightning bugs emerge from the shadows.<br />
<br />
The garlic will keep.<br />
<br />
Watch the peels drift back to earth, fluttering, shivering in silent flight, drawing out memories. The one you peeled the first time you cooked together. The one you peeled for the repast. The one you peeled last night.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
doylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12901661320505882735noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956989639073843954.post-59261759357643367352019-06-15T21:22:00.000-04:002019-06-15T21:22:11.595-04:00Horseshoe crab love<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHZQOpa5eAJUo9EDgeE9hkmCk5Hi3LqHJveI9-yAPv-rf8D_9QMCes8JozclmQ9544HXuo-Q9XSi_tBGfAq-uz2BKpRZFtST5wfDFusquR0gUDVYRWPHvxX0qvVzQn0LeEjn7-XtfZrr0C/s1600/horseshoe+crabs+061619.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1368" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHZQOpa5eAJUo9EDgeE9hkmCk5Hi3LqHJveI9-yAPv-rf8D_9QMCes8JozclmQ9544HXuo-Q9XSi_tBGfAq-uz2BKpRZFtST5wfDFusquR0gUDVYRWPHvxX0qvVzQn0LeEjn7-XtfZrr0C/s320/horseshoe+crabs+061619.jpg" width="273" /></a></div>
They come up from the depths every spring, dancing with the rising tide under a rising moon, a deadly jaunt for many of them.<br />
<br />
If I ever think I am starting to get a handle on this life thing, I stand at the edge of the bay and remember what I do not know.doylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12901661320505882735noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956989639073843954.post-89621544495505494082019-05-12T18:00:00.000-04:002019-05-12T18:00:08.823-04:00Dear White Men of America<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiHWlEFQiHMnB9-0EJMSPeB82RDp7HH8wHt9w6UEpDNQc7IbE9Y12FJQAx5zvCQM9RTqsIWVSbReGIFP7rRXxXG5PaMEc0XY0fXIPVuQ13YaXHK3neYeAt6iNilhctqcF5euhiHuwjww5s/s1600/man+with+lobster.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiHWlEFQiHMnB9-0EJMSPeB82RDp7HH8wHt9w6UEpDNQc7IbE9Y12FJQAx5zvCQM9RTqsIWVSbReGIFP7rRXxXG5PaMEc0XY0fXIPVuQ13YaXHK3neYeAt6iNilhctqcF5euhiHuwjww5s/s320/man+with+lobster.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Dear White Men of America,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ve broken noses, both mine and others, shoveled shit off ships
in Port Newark, and worked in the projects; I know the thrill of flying off a
bike then feeling the heat of asphalt build up under the leather as you tumble
next to your bike down the road; I’ve been knocked out several times, smoked
cigars while pissing into the Atlantic, had a man die under my hands after
being shot, and yes, I play fantasy football, too.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I drink too much beer, take too few vitamins, have plenty of physical
scars with too little faith in the metaphorical ones, stick by my teams, love my whiskey, and slaughtered animals. I’m a white man in America.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We know each other. Or at least I thought we did.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mr. Trump has done none of these things, has never worked a
day in his life, and I doubt he could fix anything more complicated than a burned
out light bulb, and even then he’d likely injure himself.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidh6NuYoabonyJl9sCV0S8xtVBhZPliE6OaQFPRf3uh78KIpvwKHMdvz8IE-Kdq3uxRPStLeKHvwpsGEB1kSZjLbmwzDc6G90dOTdO0UHeWtMJZSBAW-SXcXAEW41qih2hU96JyAPCnu_x/s1600/trump+on+throne.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidh6NuYoabonyJl9sCV0S8xtVBhZPliE6OaQFPRf3uh78KIpvwKHMdvz8IE-Kdq3uxRPStLeKHvwpsGEB1kSZjLbmwzDc6G90dOTdO0UHeWtMJZSBAW-SXcXAEW41qih2hU96JyAPCnu_x/s320/trump+on+throne.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He’s the smarmy kid in class with too much money and too
little sense with his crew of buddies ready to beat up the weaker among us. I
know a few of you ran with that kind of crew, but I always believed most of us
stood our ground when his henchmen came round.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And I was wrong.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: large;">What the fuck is wrong with you?</span></b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yours,<o:p></o:p></div>
Your fellow white American male<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">"'Dock stevedore at the Fulton Fish Market holding giant lobster claws.' <br />Photo by Gordon Parks for the Office of War Information" <a href="http://www.shorpy.com/node/13696?size=_original#caption">via Shorpy</a></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
doylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12901661320505882735noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956989639073843954.post-37650133606421801852019-05-01T06:37:00.002-04:002019-05-01T06:37:19.430-04:00Beltaine, again<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Liked it 7 years ago.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Still do.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-emxYiEJHIcHjGqe1oLwpwJCRr-gHzmCXQpCxxaqWjTLStPcBO9pvooRBMo6twImJ3-ndsIJ8UpaWxU0C7TCJ8rD2OqgVjH_W98Un6lJi5Tz_lJQ1Z_5aunGrorrx0qIpnyain4NtCREO/s1600/horseshoecrab+baby.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-emxYiEJHIcHjGqe1oLwpwJCRr-gHzmCXQpCxxaqWjTLStPcBO9pvooRBMo6twImJ3-ndsIJ8UpaWxU0C7TCJ8rD2OqgVjH_W98Un6lJi5Tz_lJQ1Z_5aunGrorrx0qIpnyain4NtCREO/s400/horseshoecrab+baby.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div style="color: #351c75;">
<b><span style="font-size: large;">“It is easy for me to imagine that the next great division of the world
will be between people who wish to live as creatures and people who wish
to live as machines.” </span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
Wendell Berry, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Life-Is-Miracle-Against-Superstition/dp/1582431418"><i>Life is a Miracle</i></a></div>
</blockquote>
<br />
The increasing light, the returning horseshoe crabs, the bay rising,
falling, and rising again, remind me what I'll forget again in a moment. If I were not mortal, the forgetting would not be sin.<br />
<br />
But I am, and it is.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Bealtaine again.</span></div>
doylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12901661320505882735noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956989639073843954.post-47501273909873654492019-04-14T06:23:00.001-04:002019-04-14T06:25:09.578-04:00Staying ahead of the curve....<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhdFdYQ7NHuQoEUBMNWHhei0ioh4Wjwy0bj-nzIxQhhKyvaQxX3j51CWDToxgoIa2_EDA_ssEPzObNN2NH5SZytOi7JnBtRDjXbNFeIiYDlpu7bMrUdyzRYywg_H31wy6o22-LB_eG-hFu/s1600/ahead+of+curve.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="357" data-original-width="1157" height="98" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhdFdYQ7NHuQoEUBMNWHhei0ioh4Wjwy0bj-nzIxQhhKyvaQxX3j51CWDToxgoIa2_EDA_ssEPzObNN2NH5SZytOi7JnBtRDjXbNFeIiYDlpu7bMrUdyzRYywg_H31wy6o22-LB_eG-hFu/s320/ahead+of+curve.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">SatChat question, April 13, 2019</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Staying ahead of the curve is adspeak used by an industry that needs you to keep turning over tools. The ed tech business runs on perceived obsolescence--if you are not on the curve, you are an inadequate teacher.<br />
<br />
There is no <i>need</i> for <i>you</i> to get ahead of the curve (whatever that means) if one has the tools to do what is needed doing here and now.<br />
<br />
Every tool has a learning curve. Every tool has limitations. Every tool used by humans is crafted by human imagination.<br />
<br />
In anatomy, a few pieces of colored chalk are better than markers when using subtle shades to show specific structures. I no longer use chalk because I no longer have a chalk board--our administratos removed them years ago, perhaps to save themselves the embarrassment of falling behind the curve. Whatever that means.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2uRbbitBRmkRIWfzC-urbRGBa0KR14UtoZSXtzzGrXoxOGvAdXjLli8B-rcViP-OK3hGwMKy2xRUgwq8Af-mZ20JXueYG6pf3Wga1YfVuFAQ1u-wr-Kfo1WB4CvAzNJm8pBIbJd3oc7VB/s1600/anatomy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="662" data-original-width="496" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2uRbbitBRmkRIWfzC-urbRGBa0KR14UtoZSXtzzGrXoxOGvAdXjLli8B-rcViP-OK3hGwMKy2xRUgwq8Af-mZ20JXueYG6pf3Wga1YfVuFAQ1u-wr-Kfo1WB4CvAzNJm8pBIbJd3oc7VB/s320/anatomy.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Found in Honfleur last summer (2018)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I miss using chalk. This is not some romantic notion getting maudlin over days when I had more energy (and more hair). I can get by with more expensive Expo markers using a more expensive white board.<br />
<br />
I clam with a fairly new (about 10 years old) rake with a wooden handle that replaced one about 50 years older. The style hasn't changed much, but to be fair, neither have clams. There are bigger rakes, there are rakes with baskets, there are rakes with Fiberglas handles, and for all I know there may be rakes with built-in GPS systems.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkuwhoqE2CfdgrAef2VB2WR28nx2EABUSwnZJaHmZQ3BBil9898j2wZaBgnxZbfWP-0l0dG4bjTpAq9c89GRn5GPSmKw24tssTg3GfUVmm9GQRmusvbeIX267HBOIOsLZa8GOYt8C3hhYC/s1600/clams+033019.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="961" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkuwhoqE2CfdgrAef2VB2WR28nx2EABUSwnZJaHmZQ3BBil9898j2wZaBgnxZbfWP-0l0dG4bjTpAq9c89GRn5GPSmKw24tssTg3GfUVmm9GQRmusvbeIX267HBOIOsLZa8GOYt8C3hhYC/s320/clams+033019.jpg" width="192" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">March clams</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I could pluck clams from the mud by hand, I suppose, and some days I do just that. There is joy in clamming by hand, even if it lacks the efficiency of a commercial clam dredge.<br />
<br />
I traded <em style="box-sizing: inherit;">that</em> curve years ago for the arc of the sun settling on the edge of the bay and the feeling of the arched back of a quahog in my hand.
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">If you’re ahead of the curve, drop a comment and let me know what I am missing
</span></div>
doylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12901661320505882735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956989639073843954.post-49693886791020426782019-03-14T06:21:00.002-04:002019-03-14T06:21:44.752-04:00Bad science: fruit batteries<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-size: large;">" But, you can actually use chemical energy stored in a lemon and two metals to make a current and light up a small LED. It’s true and we’ll show you exactly how it’s done." </span><br /><a href="https://www.stevespanglerscience.com/lab/experiments/fruit-power-battery/" target="_blank">Steve Spangler Science</a> </blockquote>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXCvWxzkpXAkC8i52Ow3t0MvC0gesbLXmSmq-2BegQ7TQOPEkC9aEnwEp_Jmaal9680FQDEeFC7l5gHIrl4fuE_xFzFrycBmvzvAq9gaTNthII3-DB_XULpDE8AtPLrtol8OVhGq4hNfYi/s1600/northernspy59.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="615" data-original-width="820" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXCvWxzkpXAkC8i52Ow3t0MvC0gesbLXmSmq-2BegQ7TQOPEkC9aEnwEp_Jmaal9680FQDEeFC7l5gHIrl4fuE_xFzFrycBmvzvAq9gaTNthII3-DB_XULpDE8AtPLrtol8OVhGq4hNfYi/s320/northernspy59.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Et tu, Steve?<br />
<br />
There are many ways to get to the free energy available in a fruit.<br />
<br />
The simplest is to eat it. You have a few billions years worth of living behind you, and animals are pretty good at using the energy found in the chemical bonds of foodstuff to recombine phosphate and adenosine diphoshate, giving your cells an abundant supply of their basic energy currency, ATP.<br />
<br />
You could dry it out until it's kindling then light it on fire.<br />
<br />
You could mix it with yeast and let it ferment. The yeast will reward you with a wine that will warm you up. If that's not enough you could distill the wine, concentrating the ethanol enough to make a flammable liquid that can be used for heating your home or powering your car.<br />
<br />
You cannot, however, get free energy from a fruit to power a battery. This is bad science. The fruit simply acts as a bridge for the electrons of one metal to travel to the other, different metal.<br />
<br />
There's a reason you do not find most metals in a pure state in nature. If you want iron, you dig up iron ore, then smelt it. That, of course, requires free energy. When you connect copper and zinc together with some sort of liquid bridge. (Acids work, so does salt water--the salty vinegar dripping from your chips would work great.)<br />
<br />
Fruits have tremendous stores of free energy, and animals, fungi, and bacteria take advantage of this--you want to eat the fruit before it rots, but rotting is just another organism beating you to the rich deliciousness of fruit.<br />
<br />
If you want its energy, eat it, don't waste it jamming metals into it. If you want to show that fruit can serve as connection bridge in a battery, because it's cool and gets kids interested in science, go for it!<br />
<br />
Just don't tell them that the fruit is powering the battery.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />doylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12901661320505882735noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956989639073843954.post-36236942310864257612019-01-21T07:04:00.001-05:002019-01-21T07:06:51.632-05:00The whitewashing of Dr. King<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">When I die, I hope nobody mistakes my kindness for niceness. I am not a nice man.<br />Dr. King's life profoundly affected mine. </span></div>
<br />
<br />
<blockquote style="color: #351c75;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWwsR85Qj8lfoWfOe9nZQmBod2PJY-veQAB4kvdOWFRGLXjy6lDPwWyy5oA-j01_xWPypMjWo1r6LZoWqbe6pYWs72Ha9H7VfxXukhw2nRs1wQWBuFGKgt7IBpHkecaZFoLiCVMjSjcGA/s1600/king.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="255" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWwsR85Qj8lfoWfOe9nZQmBod2PJY-veQAB4kvdOWFRGLXjy6lDPwWyy5oA-j01_xWPypMjWo1r6LZoWqbe6pYWs72Ha9H7VfxXukhw2nRs1wQWBuFGKgt7IBpHkecaZFoLiCVMjSjcGA/s320/king.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<b><span style="font-size: large;">I have almost reached the regrettable conclusion that the Negro's great stumbling block in his stride toward freedom is not the White Citizen's Counciler or the Ku Klux Klanner, but the white moderate, who is more devoted to "order" than to justice; who prefers a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the presence of justice....Shallow understanding from people of good will is more frustrating than absolute misunderstanding from people of ill will.</span></b></blockquote>
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<blockquote>
<span style="font-size: large;"> <span style="font-size: x-small;">Martin Luther King, Jr., from "<a href="http://www.africa.upenn.edu/Articles_Gen/Letter_Birmingham.html">Letter from a Birmingham Jail</a>"</span><br />
</span></blockquote>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
***</div>
<br />
Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., was loving, and kind, and powerful. His words still resonate, should you choose to hear them.<br />
<br />
Do not confuse non-violence with passivity.<br />
Do not confuse kindness with niceness.<br />
<br />
During school announcements yesterday, our students were told that Dr. King pushed "cooperation."<a href="http://www.jsonline.com/news/education/81007747.html"> Rania Jones, a 3rd grade winner of the Milwaukee Public Schools' "People Must Work Together" King contest </a>wrote "That's what we must do today - demonstrate cooperation." This is the Dr. King lite version of a complex story. This is the version that gives so many of us the day off on Monday.<br />
<br />
"Love" is a complex word, and one not easily used in public settings. "Cooperation" is much safer, more sanitary.<br />
<br />
And it's the wrong message. <br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
*** </div>
<br />
My Dad joined the 1963 March on Washington, dressed in full uniform, a proud US Marine officer. He flew A4 Phantom Skyhawks off carriers, in love with a country that let poor first generation children fly.<br />
<br />
My dad was pulled to the front of the parade, or so the story goes. If you see a full-dressed USMC officer in photos from the parade, it may well be Bill Doyle. Dr. King later went on to oppose the Viet Nam War as unjust, and my father, a die-hard leatherneck, resigned his commission for the same reason.<br />
<br />
I grew up in an Irish Catholic home, but Dr. King held as much influence as the Pope, maybe more, years before he was assassinated. My Dad loved the man, not the cartoon he has become.<br />
<br />
Read <a href="http://www.stanford.edu/group/King/frequentdocs/birmingham.pdf">"Letter From a Birmingham Jail."</a><br />
Take a walk outside and watch the grace and agony of life around us.<br />
<br />
Yes, it's complicated. Life is complex,<br />
<br />
You want to learn about Dr. King? Go read his words, listen to his speeches, learn everything you can about him. But don't "cooperate" with those who would steal his image without his words, the Mike Pences, the innumerable talking heads that will piously bow today.<br />
<br />
Take a walk, a walk outside, away from noise. Carry a copy of King's letter and read it under the January sunlight.<br />
<br />
Share it. Live it.<br />
Don't let the dream die.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">The photo of Dr. King (D.C., August, 1963) is from the <a href="http://arcweb.archives.gov/arc/action/ShowFullRecordDigital?initpagemodel=on&mn=resultsDetailPageModel&goto=21&sort=&%24searchId=3&%24showFullDescriptionTabs.selectedPaneId=&%24digiDetailPageModel.currentPage=0&%24resultsPartitionPageModel.targetModel=true&%24resultsSummaryPageModel.pageSize=10&%24partitionIndex=0&%24digiSummaryPageModel.targetModel=true&%24submitId=2&%24resultsDetailPageModel.search=true&%24digiDetailPageModel.resultPageModel=true&%24resultsDetailPageModel.currentPage=20&%24showArchivalDescriptionsTabs.selectedPaneId=digital&%24resultsDetailPageModel.pageSize=1&%24resultsSummaryPageModel.targetModel=true&%24sort=RELEVANCE_ASC&%24resultsPartitionPageModel.search=true&%24highlight=false&tab=init/showFullDescriptionTabs/digital&detail=digiViewModel/1">National Archives </a>and is the public domain.<br />This is a repost.</span></div>
doylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12901661320505882735noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956989639073843954.post-44409732523183995672018-12-21T17:18:00.001-05:002018-12-21T17:23:54.224-05:005:23 P.M.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi74T9btFANQPlz0ILtVvKzC_sC27R2K-1RjedAzJlJOriBnDxZETgsmFdvPZQOFJKQHcX1gBJAsu2hI5P2VDLAGMr1BfK2gU2UBj1uVnRH0-WtOOlUt0vY_GoJQ1T-w9jXgMPzPhBKxho/s1600/January++sunset2.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553337153333338226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi74T9btFANQPlz0ILtVvKzC_sC27R2K-1RjedAzJlJOriBnDxZETgsmFdvPZQOFJKQHcX1gBJAsu2hI5P2VDLAGMr1BfK2gU2UBj1uVnRH0-WtOOlUt0vY_GoJQ1T-w9jXgMPzPhBKxho/s400/January++sunset2.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 300px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
5:23 P.M. here--the sun stands still, <strike>shifts its mass</strike><sup>*</sup>, and heads back north.<br />
<br />
6 months ago, when we sat on the opposite side of the sun, I celebrated the summer solstice, a joy tinged with the weight of knowing the sun would start its slow, long course southward.<br />
<br />
Winter is only hours old, and winters can be brutal here. The light, however is returning.<br />
<br />
When I was a child, winter meant cold, summer heat. I did not, could not, grasp why the elders got so excited late December, at the cusp of winter, when we faced long wintry days.<br />
<br />
I get it now.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
***<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br />
I stood outside last night in the chill with my youngest, now a quarter century old, watching our shadow drift across the moon, a wavering copper-gold washing in from the moon's left.<br />
<br />
My mom used to tell me she could see me as an infant even as I stood before her as a man. I laughed, of course. I am big--over 200# big.<br />
<br />
I get it now.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
***</div>
<br />
I still give tests, more out of habit than sense now. Performance on science tests a few days before the Christmas break follow a predictable pattern, and my students did not fail to fail.<br />
<br />
We do a lot of things because we do them. If mastery's the goal, then a class average of low 70's with a bell-shaped curve, a science teacher's dream a generation ago, marks my failure.<br />
<br />
On my board today two-foot numbers announced the time of the solstice--5:23 P.M. Solstice literally means the sun stands still.<br />
<br />
Very few students notice how far the sun has shifted since class started just 3 1/2 months ago. There's no need. Food comes in boxes, heat in radiators. The whole world of technique is magic to them.<br />
<br />
In Ireland this morning, the sun rose, as it has, as it will. A shaft of sunlight flashed <a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/2/24/Bru_na_Boinne_Squire.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553334885997485202" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0kcmApsIuEQ0UVD4VPKAt_wJouL_5jzh-4XWVzTl5GTXwG6nfoOuoFkMM5p96cPRFquYUKf-8jBoRIPgK2ZKF-9YQ6b9N-Fp1Yo-RCAsD0eZcHMH0c2ntohwaLEZwVMPSfV0t7CVCyUM/s400/Bru_na_Boinne_Squire.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 274px; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 400px;" /></a>through a chamber in Newgrange built thousands of years ago, before the Great Pyramids, before the Celts arrived, before Stone Henge.<br />
<br />
We will not study this in science, nor will our students study this in history class. We will create a class ready for the 21st century, for the abstract, for a culture that confuses bank profits with economy.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
***</div>
<br />
If children owned the winter solstice, the dying light, knowing what waits for each of us before a 100 winter solstices pass, would they come to school?<br />
<br />
Would you?<br />
<br />
I believe schools can be worth the time children invest in them. I am not convinced we're there yet.<br />
<br />
At least not as long as I keep practicing education as religion, using a script written generations before me.<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;"><br />*The sun may indeed change direction if we use Earth as the reference point, but "shifted its mass" is, of course, incorrect, since it implies uneven forces were applied to it. Since I have yet to find a better explanation for "mass" beyond "the amount of inertia stuff has," even a poetic license does not give me permission to spew such nonsense.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 78%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 78%;"><br /></span>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: 78%;">But I spew it anyway....</span></div>
<br /></div>
</div>
doylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12901661320505882735noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956989639073843954.post-35638046046082458112018-12-20T06:10:00.001-05:002018-12-20T06:10:18.505-05:00A Christmas comet story<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Another comet hangs in the sky. Here's a story from years ago.</span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCKC2jsqBn5v3wIUEV859zq4mfjWIfIKEEa4ROB_Hp7ZpzaTkm-iHAGTGc6iiTl1fZEjTJOluffsKa8er9T60nVG_SGNSfAg17m0pwGXyE10ntnVAMfMZvJQCB8EdbO9P2E79GtZUoDcZe/s1600/800px-Comet-Hale-Bopp-29-03-1997_hires_adj.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1043" data-original-width="800" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCKC2jsqBn5v3wIUEV859zq4mfjWIfIKEEa4ROB_Hp7ZpzaTkm-iHAGTGc6iiTl1fZEjTJOluffsKa8er9T60nVG_SGNSfAg17m0pwGXyE10ntnVAMfMZvJQCB8EdbO9P2E79GtZUoDcZe/s320/800px-Comet-Hale-Bopp-29-03-1997_hires_adj.jpg" width="245" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://salzgeber.at/astro/pics/9703293.html" target="_blank">Philipp Salzgeber, CC</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
She was a kid.<br />
<br />
She was dying.<br />
Everyone knew, and yet no one would say it.<br />
<br />
Her mother asked that no one tell her child what was going on.<br />
I saw her after her surgery, her head wrapped like a genie, sitting on her bed.<br />
<br />
Her mother wanted me to promise I would not tell her.<br />
I told the mother I would not lie if asked.<br />
<br />
The comet hung in the sky like a jewel that summer 20 years ago.<br />
<br />
It was evening.<br />
I was tired.<br />
The mother was tired<br />
The child was dying.<br />
<br />
I asked the other if I could take her child to a room where the comet was visible.<br />
The mother said OK.<br />
She did not come along.<br />
<br />
I knew what I would say if the child asked.<br />
The mother knew as well.<br />
<br />
And the child never asked.<br />
<br />
But she saw the comet.<br />
The last one she saw.<br />
Not the last one I saw.<br />
<br />
And Hale-Bopp makes me sad every time I see a photo.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">She never asked so she could protect the adults around her.</span></div>
doylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12901661320505882735noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956989639073843954.post-14063494037704499422018-12-01T16:34:00.001-05:002018-12-02T15:57:26.865-05:00The pursuit of happiness<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">I took a walk barefoot along the edge of the bay today.<br />It's December, so I am re-posting this.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXXBJvpjJjmHfpRTcgfq0iu7kt_AxhpFTiOFMEQ_pgnBoo4fOkyQdgxXL0VAJ15pCjEwJFMxNnALpR_dNWLFZW1HomZohZxMW5kyblnriq3R6tOMEvtAobP5KWH2Tc2M2JvuCEPkvNuh8/s1600/rosehip.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5545540211591633106" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXXBJvpjJjmHfpRTcgfq0iu7kt_AxhpFTiOFMEQ_pgnBoo4fOkyQdgxXL0VAJ15pCjEwJFMxNnALpR_dNWLFZW1HomZohZxMW5kyblnriq3R6tOMEvtAobP5KWH2Tc2M2JvuCEPkvNuh8/s400/rosehip.jpg" style="display: block; height: 277px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A rose hip in December.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The dark days. Again.<br />
<br />
My imagination fails me, as it will, surrounded by human light, human sounds, human smells. I cannot remember the smell of honeysuckle or the soft glow of lightning bugs or the warmth that wrapped around me in early summer.<br />
<br />
I keep a small jar of rich soil dug from my compost pile on my desk in school. Now and then, in the middle of class, I take a whiff. The children see my joy I get from the earthy aroma.<br />
<br />
My lambs know by December that I want them to have happy, useful lives. They know I want this for every one of them.<br />
<br />
Why else bother teaching?<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
***</div>
<br />
Thomas Jefferson got the tone just right when he penned "the pursuit of happiness." It is not an idle phrase, though it does sound a bit embarrassing in context of the modern classroom, the modern office, the modern mall.<br />
<br />
Jefferson lived before we learned how to distract ourselves with twisted visions of immortality. We have become our own gods. Mortal illness comes as a surprise, dismissed as an inconvenience. Our cultural psychosis belittles those among us who dare to expose our mortality--if they only believed hard enough, they would be cured.<br />
<br />
Ironically, the generation closest to achieving immortality is least equipped to deal with it. Time spent on-line chasing zombies or aliens or a Nazi nation long since quelled hardly seems worth all the fuss.<br />
<br />
We no longer seek a life worth living. We'd just rather avoid death.<br />
<br />
Death is inevitable. Pursuing happiness is not.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
***</div>
<br />
Yesterday one of my students came running up to me with a pot of tiny basil plants she had sowed a few weeks before.<br />
<blockquote>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: large;">"Smell it! <span style="font-style: italic;">Smell</span> it!" </span></b></div>
</blockquote>
<br />
I did. And I glowed. Growing a plant in a classroom fits in the curriculum. A child sharing her joy at its sensuousness is not.<br />
<br />
The seed, no larger than the head of a pin, darker than a cloudy December night, grew in a pot of peat. Shiny green leaves erupted from the seeds, now effusively shedding aromatic molecules that made me grin in December.<br />
<br />
Something from nothing, at least nothing we could see. The poets have something to say, but so do the biologists. The aroma released from the leafs was made of carbon captured from the breaths of the same student clutching the pot.<br />
<br />
If you've never sown a seed before, this is a big deal. If you've sown seeds for much of your life, it's still a big deal.<br />
<br />
A hundred years from now, the human world may be very different, but seeds will still grow when planted.<br />
<br />
(I am having pesto for dinner tonight from last summer's garden.)<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
<span style="color: rgb(153 , 51 , 0); font-size: 130%; font-weight: bold;"><span style="color: rgb(153 , 51 , 0); font-size: 130%; font-weight: bold;"><span style="color: rgb(153 , 51 , 0); font-size: 130%; font-weight: bold;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgULPyQ2_nS1QNGpdm-EixcTOlcGH8kYedDbAd_0ehW97HvnHyX5v9ANbjXg6hAJqCjSQEqSh9YxoRfitmFsy3a59OtvYZjCjzSvI_0HYKCsAF3aMnBpF1HYsDVfZfJ28qGS7RKxtdldZY/s1600/basil.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5545539062595226226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgULPyQ2_nS1QNGpdm-EixcTOlcGH8kYedDbAd_0ehW97HvnHyX5v9ANbjXg6hAJqCjSQEqSh9YxoRfitmFsy3a59OtvYZjCjzSvI_0HYKCsAF3aMnBpF1HYsDVfZfJ28qGS7RKxtdldZY/s400/basil.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 336px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 379px;" /></a></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-style: italic;">None</span> of us know what this world is all about. A few among us will tell you to live a certain way in order to reach worlds that no one has seen. A few among us will tell our children to live a certain way to strengthen abstract concepts like <span style="font-style: italic;">country</span>, or <span style="font-style: italic;">economy</span>, or <span style="font-style: italic;">success</span>.<br />
<br />
Success is a slippery word, but happiness is not. You <span style="font-style: italic;">know</span> when you're happy, even when you're not sure how you got there.<br />
<br />
Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness--how many of these fit into your district's curriculum? How many fit in your classroom?<br />
<br />
If we continue to raise our kids for a better economy, a better nation, a better world while neglecting their inalienable right to their pursuit of happiness, we risk the "blood-dimmed tide" Yeats spoke of.<br />
<br />
Happiness is not happenstance, nor is it trivial.<br />
Mortality is not happenstance, nor is it trivial.<br />
<br />
Why did you walk into your classroom today? Did you give your lambs at least as good as reason?<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: 78%;">Photos are mine, and yours (CC, yadda yadda)....</span></div>
doylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12901661320505882735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956989639073843954.post-52776200774775085152018-11-18T08:32:00.003-05:002019-11-17T10:16:36.126-05:00A monarch and a meteor<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLEN8Y6stVbejRKUmkFpONxDCUmljPOy0LZ2iXN0VzAMR9WMMyvvbmGAfiWdqzCBMLib191bMuX_clPYX4y2nft9Vgcz4Jh8vDqKWPvZT8SvPvG4Hk2VoOFU0fdaQ5ExXxBnZL_A-TFLyp/s1600/monrch+on+beach+cropped.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1147" data-original-width="1068" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLEN8Y6stVbejRKUmkFpONxDCUmljPOy0LZ2iXN0VzAMR9WMMyvvbmGAfiWdqzCBMLib191bMuX_clPYX4y2nft9Vgcz4Jh8vDqKWPvZT8SvPvG4Hk2VoOFU0fdaQ5ExXxBnZL_A-TFLyp/s320/monrch+on+beach+cropped.jpg" width="297" /></a></div>
<br />
It's a mid-30's chilly, a bright Venus, dawn sliding up over the east, Sirius fading over the bay just west of us.<br />
<br />
Most of the of the stars have faded out, deferring to the early light.<br />
<br />
A little late to be searching for meteors.
And then a spine-chilling, brilliant flash, streaking west. A Leonid.<br />
<br />
I had almost given up, except the early morning light itself was wonderful, and I had forgotten (because it is easy for modern humans to forget these things) how deep a joy the early dawn sky brings.<br />
<br />
My son and I once waited a long, long time on a very chilly November night, 16 years ago, to see the Leonids, and at dawn we were rewarded--several brilliant Leonids every minute, a spectacular light.show. We were seeing dust left from a comet's pass back in 1866.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHlY6x8bwVDSXmE1t8O_A-sFB5Z_tKhr0Tqwi8_TST_9Ll0-gQBGmJhpOtJF1KbZZOb648t2QOyw9QG4yfVddK02ibUYlS0X4_H5LyY9sOMAefNAD3_sQrevcUgMLqbbeY-JW1_-HZQ8CL/s1600/horseshoe+crab.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHlY6x8bwVDSXmE1t8O_A-sFB5Z_tKhr0Tqwi8_TST_9Ll0-gQBGmJhpOtJF1KbZZOb648t2QOyw9QG4yfVddK02ibUYlS0X4_H5LyY9sOMAefNAD3_sQrevcUgMLqbbeY-JW1_-HZQ8CL/s320/horseshoe+crab.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Yesterday, Leslie and I took a walk along the edge of the Atlantic at <a href="http://www.friendsofcapemaynationalwildliferefuge.org/two-mile-beach.html" target="_blank">Two Mile Beach</a>. The long light of late autumn drenches everything in gold.<br />
<br />
I was bumbling around looking for sand dollars, which I rarely find, when I saw a fluttering flash of orange. A monarch butterfly, soaked, wings flattened against the sand, its antennae twisted together like a cartoon.<br />
<br />
It was alive, so I picked it up. It grasped my finger and tried to unfurl its wings. The edge of one wing was lined with sand.<br />
<br />
We walked it back to the dunes, found a starthistle bathed in sunlight, and (after a bit of resistance) managed to get the monarch off my finger onto the plant.<br />
<br />
We took our walk, and when we returned, the monarch was still there, but in a better position, its wings and antennae in better shape. It might still be there now.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">And we might be here now, when we choose to be...</span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Both photos by Leslie.</span></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />doylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12901661320505882735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956989639073843954.post-37878405315817476912018-11-03T07:25:00.000-04:002018-11-03T07:25:07.839-04:00Abrogation of the Big K<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: right;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"It follows from the new definition of the SI described above that, effective from 20 May 2019...the definition of the kilogram in force since 1889 (1st meeting of the CGPM, 1889,
3rd meeting of the CGPM, 1901) based upon the mass of the international prototype of
the kilogram is abrogated."</span></div>
<i></i><br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i><i><a href="https://www.bipm.org/utils/en/pdf/CGPM/Convocation-2018.pdf#page=30" target="_blank">General Conferenceon Weights and Measures (26th meeting) 2018</a></i></i></div>
<i>
</i></blockquote>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt=" A last link to a world still small enough to be known by humans" border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="410" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBdBzBgchQ5HInMYCEa_OQIPIBbFL372OE7pTQybvq1zkYrYi5tFUTZb0M9lyp4cr8B6luRf2cTOf5-PB-OiS1DvL0Yrt419Y6laeJ3KnLmiPGAmWmxR1f5mVu3zIG1X4fH956g5cbscnc/s320/kilogram.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="262" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A reminder from 1889 that the world was once real.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
A small cylinder of metal, mostly platinum with some iridium, sits inside a bell jar, which sits inside another, which sits inside a third, like some illustration from a Dr. Seuss book.<br />
<br />
To get to it, you need three keys, each key carried by a gnome--well, no, people,not gnomes.<br />
<br />
Le Grand K (the Big K), the kilogram, the operational definition of the kilogram, a hunk of metal crafted by human hands in 1889, sitting in a basement just outside Paris.<br />
<br />
Electrons had yet to be discovered. the current model of the atom inconceivable.<br />
<br />
In less than two weeks the <a href="https://www.bipm.org/en/cgpm-2018/" target="_blank">General Conference on Weights and Measures</a>, the Olympics of metrology (and like the Olympics, meet only every 4 years) will gather together and change the standard for the kilogram.<br />
<br />
The new standards will be based on <a href="https://www.bipm.org/utils/en/pdf/CGPM/Convocation-2018.pdf#page=30" target="_blank">"the present theoretical description of nature at the highest level</a>," and the last vestiges of measurement still tied to our direct relationships with the natural world will be severed.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwW6AnWH1oBVK9131OAJ_186abGPCXLJdNidJZZIIojErXYvym0YnPQtj0TCmZICBEigtJw_CiPSaNVyIoYlyza6bTfvyVRBOE_TOraUe1af4fOUA66RSc0wsRrgFPZ0rtDdjDwjDT7Ghl/s1600/Michelangelo-creation-of-adam-index.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="366" data-original-width="650" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwW6AnWH1oBVK9131OAJ_186abGPCXLJdNidJZZIIojErXYvym0YnPQtj0TCmZICBEigtJw_CiPSaNVyIoYlyza6bTfvyVRBOE_TOraUe1af4fOUA66RSc0wsRrgFPZ0rtDdjDwjDT7Ghl/s320/Michelangelo-creation-of-adam-index.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
And the Big K? It will be "abrogated," a perfect word for our imperfect behavior, eliminating by decree of something real for something perfect, perhaps <i>the</i> tragic flaw of humanism.<br />
<br />
This Luddite prefers imperfect reality to the world we've created.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">I get why redefining the kilogram matters, and feeling sad about it borders on the sentimental. <br />The human world has long drifted away from the natural world.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<br />doylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12901661320505882735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956989639073843954.post-51114322650341577942018-11-01T19:48:00.002-04:002018-11-01T19:48:32.433-04:00Samhain, again<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">I have spent, in the basest sense of that word, hours<br /> of my God-given life working on a document required of teachers here in Jersey. <br />That I do these things speaks to a cultural insanity, and mine as well.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">And here it is a year later, and I'm doing it again.</span><br />
<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSVkIhiGIMwT-AjgbjO23sa9HKDYxMfV6s746NElBr1Ax-S8ZW67rFVWd3pCHj3m3htj81UaFxQT-LE7FkBHFqHS7P7-OwF7HYpPoQRpHACBdwUtGwBn5UEstDzkDua_U1lVWQslROMv4/s1600/images.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="281" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSVkIhiGIMwT-AjgbjO23sa9HKDYxMfV6s746NElBr1Ax-S8ZW67rFVWd3pCHj3m3htj81UaFxQT-LE7FkBHFqHS7P7-OwF7HYpPoQRpHACBdwUtGwBn5UEstDzkDua_U1lVWQslROMv4/s320/images.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Do ghosts exist?<br />
<br />
I've lived long enough to know that they don't.<br />
I've lived long enough to know that they do.<br />
<br />
That odd, inexplicable events happen, and happen daily, is evident to anyone paying attention. The shame is that so few of us are paying attention to the natural world, we miss the rhythms and the mysteries that envelop our modern minds every moment.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTC60Lvh9fdfh2mAlDrhxQ46DkseyXU1dWqEijV-K0MdI7W5XczkhWj_B7Zeq4968Spew794tkhMuSuHLo_lwx73mTg75VONKfY2-BGq6ldMlOmyUw0Cmcz90xx3d1TWtlRfSblOa9Fx0/s1600/P4302295.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTC60Lvh9fdfh2mAlDrhxQ46DkseyXU1dWqEijV-K0MdI7W5XczkhWj_B7Zeq4968Spew794tkhMuSuHLo_lwx73mTg75VONKfY2-BGq6ldMlOmyUw0Cmcz90xx3d1TWtlRfSblOa9Fx0/s1600/P4302295.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Today is All Saints Day, to celebrate the sanctified among us, as though following some moral order could save us from the coming dark, a world in which <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vMG-LWyNcAs" target="_blank">wasp larvae eat hornworms alive, from the inside out,</a> and humans die monstrous deaths lying in ICUs with multiple tubes pierced into the body, hoping that like St. Sebastian, we will miraculously recover. <br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijLJOmoB0le7k3ouR-rrxoALEEWBTYXZBNxhBWtftvOIHbcvlBxzxroPJE3mjETRKgP-dQykV_tR7uU971f-i-odZHh1GC-E2mtKVUFwVqQxpMxqhpaeJCv0iVJzR2AXEELpxZGh7WXv8/s1600/horseshoe+dead.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijLJOmoB0le7k3ouR-rrxoALEEWBTYXZBNxhBWtftvOIHbcvlBxzxroPJE3mjETRKgP-dQykV_tR7uU971f-i-odZHh1GC-E2mtKVUFwVqQxpMxqhpaeJCv0iVJzR2AXEELpxZGh7WXv8/s1600/horseshoe+dead.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
If you need a video to be convinced ghosts exist, you don't truly know what it means to know that the dead are among us.<br />
<br />
The question of ghosts is not an idle one. We follow spirits of our own making all the time. We follow rules and rhythms of our own making now, wrapping ourselves in a sad cocoon of hubris, wiling away our hours fulfilling nothing more than deadlines upon deadlines without a hint of irony.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHx5q7K24DdPpzy4EUNsDuy9mkdRS6w_dUEhx91m6CbrX0Y_1AJdGXU0CypXVmU261aPGeqL79fb9-f6vMvjY67a_Yva6-cofv_OILM4y2S1UX13rRWNqHpEvA9ADqWoPcJvbz9P5fLSc/s1600/drum.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="168" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHx5q7K24DdPpzy4EUNsDuy9mkdRS6w_dUEhx91m6CbrX0Y_1AJdGXU0CypXVmU261aPGeqL79fb9-f6vMvjY67a_Yva6-cofv_OILM4y2S1UX13rRWNqHpEvA9ADqWoPcJvbz9P5fLSc/s1600/drum.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<br />
I'm headed out to a mudflat tomorrow, under a wet and wild early winter sky, to rake up a few clams, alive as I am, and as alive as I am, I will be as dead as those clams will be tonight in less than a lifetime.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Until you believe in the ghost you will be, you cannot truly live.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Originally posted 4 years ago. I like rhythms.</span></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />doylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12901661320505882735noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956989639073843954.post-72419659732971635042018-10-28T16:50:00.003-04:002018-10-28T16:50:34.791-04:00Late October and the ghosts are hereIt does not take much for a human to involved in an internal universe. Our imaginations served us well before we had written words.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCUXFKV76mtmyEk1NDB8qhuZvlVGwMMv54kiXVMP87E8ptNjJemtZM7TbiReiSLqLIJs8MCiHSW_KHJZpEZfBiPg1_W79dtxgy1gS55Yjso4dCmVlMcF7gufCxmyISQ0p0f5y-Tk5lGN93/s1600/december31beach.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="739" data-original-width="1096" height="215" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCUXFKV76mtmyEk1NDB8qhuZvlVGwMMv54kiXVMP87E8ptNjJemtZM7TbiReiSLqLIJs8MCiHSW_KHJZpEZfBiPg1_W79dtxgy1gS55Yjso4dCmVlMcF7gufCxmyISQ0p0f5y-Tk5lGN93/s320/december31beach.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Delaware Bay in the dying light</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Our stories existed in a larger, wild world.<br />
<br />
The world is still wild and unimaginably vast; our stories no longer recognize this.And it's destroying our kids.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjjRDqBy_bCd8QuTIxnAVMVKGovdfqe3pYEe1uxGNXz0zRtA7RBFkh4AC1Ry3WCZ8vNOF0OgctIsCoAfNboahhgcO4kk-T_1YoKkQ26dvO8idmcrLReDdCXdRVHFQMvJGm1wMQP9s51Cu_/s1600/horseshoe+crab+eye+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="780" height="315" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjjRDqBy_bCd8QuTIxnAVMVKGovdfqe3pYEe1uxGNXz0zRtA7RBFkh4AC1Ry3WCZ8vNOF0OgctIsCoAfNboahhgcO4kk-T_1YoKkQ26dvO8idmcrLReDdCXdRVHFQMvJGm1wMQP9s51Cu_/s320/horseshoe+crab+eye+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The world through a horseshoe crab's eyes.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Mind control works best in an environment removed from the natural world.<br />
<br />
Look at your classroom.<br />
Are you teaching?<br />
Are you brainwashing?<br />
Are you helping a child become a reasonably happy adult?<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
***</div>
<br />
It's late October now, the shadows are lengthening, the nights are longer, death is winning again.<br />
<br />
How many of us notice anymore?<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPvoTddn6W0bD4lzDE1TQMJ_pjI_Rl3crotra3aYodLpnptCBlPtJf7MMelQl2rqMzTwEMOE1hDEhncxZwrGOqU5NuO4HMTEbSVe9C35Av7Aop5Vw4xRw0lwLrnJzu0PXu83ojSL4avuio/s1600/clams+in+backyard.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPvoTddn6W0bD4lzDE1TQMJ_pjI_Rl3crotra3aYodLpnptCBlPtJf7MMelQl2rqMzTwEMOE1hDEhncxZwrGOqU5NuO4HMTEbSVe9C35Av7Aop5Vw4xRw0lwLrnJzu0PXu83ojSL4avuio/s320/clams+in+backyard.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I killed them, I ate them, I prayed for them.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Certainly not the kids. Possibly not even you.<br />
<br />
You will die someday.<br />
Sooner than you expect.<br />
<br />
October reminds us, we ignore it.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijL-rNUDhZBz47h2kl_mGwKv1IgJSm6z8NDZWAwYVJUSmuBw3abvdeVDuzaMlC-61YiaD6Cm9EBCL4UV929Cyk-e2YG0Un9omOasDwP9m9GJ9OOlZVyPCsKrQXJGpPP8em7bpKoJFCBr92/s1600/wheatsky.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijL-rNUDhZBz47h2kl_mGwKv1IgJSm6z8NDZWAwYVJUSmuBw3abvdeVDuzaMlC-61YiaD6Cm9EBCL4UV929Cyk-e2YG0Un9omOasDwP9m9GJ9OOlZVyPCsKrQXJGpPP8em7bpKoJFCBr92/s320/wheatsky.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wheat from my classroom window.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
So I walk, I sow, I rake clams, I brew, I breathe, I live.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">I need to remember why I teach.</span></div>
<br />
<br />doylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12901661320505882735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956989639073843954.post-73468321690319855782018-10-14T09:39:00.001-04:002018-10-14T09:42:00.049-04:00Ghost crab in October<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQlVZOahOJAhg7RrZgb7tGVmSV2xT9RE2ic5cVQtVXWltzmRl02qLFiDCF1PzgpjFSlAhmRAycqMbDeT0tmm2_IIU2CCZDU7E_OIpHGtOe-OgroPxgyJaIvBierf6rJPrOhJsF_sV-ZtB6/s1600/drum.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1193" data-original-width="1410" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQlVZOahOJAhg7RrZgb7tGVmSV2xT9RE2ic5cVQtVXWltzmRl02qLFiDCF1PzgpjFSlAhmRAycqMbDeT0tmm2_IIU2CCZDU7E_OIpHGtOe-OgroPxgyJaIvBierf6rJPrOhJsF_sV-ZtB6/s320/drum.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A different fish, a different day, the same look.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
October creeps forward.<br />
<br />
The shadows, lengthening in their ominous beauty, remind those paying attention that we are of the dust, and <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/verse/en/Genesis%203%3A19" target="_blank">the dust will take us back</a>.<br />
<br />
For a few hours each year, the world of those already taken (human and otherwise) opens to the world we know. <a href="https://doyle-scienceteach.blogspot.com/2017/10/samhain-again.html" target="_blank">Samhain approaches, again</a>.<br />
<br />
I took a walk on the edge of the bay--a stiff breeze was blowing in from the northwest, the waves a controlled fury, stark grays and whites on the water, flashes of pink on the underbelly of clouds. No one else was on the beach.<br />
<br />
A dead bunker, flesh still clinging to its partially visible skeleton, mouth agape, washed up at my feet. Through death it looked stunned. A few minutes later a lone gull struggled to get it down its gullet.<br />
<br />
The Jersey shore shares this same theme every fall, for anyone who cares to brave the beach breeze. But the stories change.<br />
<br />
And today's story was about a ghost crab on the edge of both worlds.<br />
<br />
<a class="gie-single" href="http://www.gettyimages.in/detail/614379800" id="LwqeIGlYTOJKHQRdFfUIDw" style="border: none; color: #a7a7a7; display: inline-block; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Embed from Getty Images</a><script>window.gie=window.gie||function(c){(gie.q=gie.q||[]).push(c)};gie(function(){gie.widgets.load({id:'LwqeIGlYTOJKHQRdFfUIDw',sig:'TWj_8UanVSan-7f85lzt-PyhDeurz7Gqhtibw7C1W7s=',w:'509px',h:'339px',items:'614379800',caption: true ,tld:'in',is360: false })});</script><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embed-cdn.gettyimages.com/widgets.js"></script>
<br />
Ghost crabs live in burrows on the beach. <a href="http://www.mitchellspublications.com/guides/shells/articles/0057/" target="_blank">Though experts tell you that they are nocturnal</a>, ghost crabs apparently do not read (or trust) their words, and can be seen scurrying about the beach pretty much any time of day in the warmer months.<br />
<br />
What you won't see, however, is a ghost crab crossing a street.<br />
<br />
When I got back to my bicycle, I found it there directly below the pedals, its eye stalks retracted, perhaps dead, perhaps not, wavering between this world and the other.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHLWYiZM09uPeyLJPKJNxYAR0G7vNOwUqXe_kNS46BhjsrDd7OqQZpHU33FO5pON9NPLMz9tQPVoaZHgn_gWCR1wssIr7j83iS45bjwFQObCU-3SwN2-RwsC60Ri0-l-TVhrqlLzyAdxax/s1600/ghost+crab+under+bike.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="258" data-original-width="359" height="229" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHLWYiZM09uPeyLJPKJNxYAR0G7vNOwUqXe_kNS46BhjsrDd7OqQZpHU33FO5pON9NPLMz9tQPVoaZHgn_gWCR1wssIr7j83iS45bjwFQObCU-3SwN2-RwsC60Ri0-l-TVhrqlLzyAdxax/s320/ghost+crab+under+bike.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
I picked it up--it barely moved--and walked back across the street, down the path to the bay, set it down by the bay's edge, and a wash of foam reached up and took it.<br />
<br />
Maybe not a story meant for anyone else.<br />
But it was meant for me.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">The other world is meant for all of us.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />doylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12901661320505882735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956989639073843954.post-64114887305780672402018-10-06T13:18:00.001-04:002018-10-09T17:40:02.178-04:00Getting certified, FRS-NJ versionAwarding schools certifications for using e-tech is like Gillette awarding young adults for reaching puberty. Everybody feels good about themselves for something that was inevitable anyway, and another corporation plays the product placement game.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNql71Hms-xvg2dQ0oTQ5EurD9VzChAHymsHD-EFOCTm5CXW3q5Zh-ui8Y5OLzKmCW9aEFcPN5lOk4zPeKVNCQFxaqVZ7o6cg92iy8EWkEjZZoUHeZUwhjfFs8Rt4_2aWIHXpMAKBBpoCB/s1600/certified.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="342" data-original-width="1280" height="85" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNql71Hms-xvg2dQ0oTQ5EurD9VzChAHymsHD-EFOCTm5CXW3q5Zh-ui8Y5OLzKmCW9aEFcPN5lOk4zPeKVNCQFxaqVZ7o6cg92iy8EWkEjZZoUHeZUwhjfFs8Rt4_2aWIHXpMAKBBpoCB/s320/certified.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
I am, by nature, skeptical of clubs that require certifications (including the process of credentialing teachers). Credentialing costs time and money, and, like anything involving power and people, tend to exacerbate existing cultural schisms. (Pretty fancy talk for, among other things, racism.)<br />
<div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I do get, however, why credentialing of some sort can be useful at times, and have participated when necessary. I have been board certified as a <a href="http://aap.org/" target="_blank">pediatrician</a>, and am currently certified as a <a href="https://nj.gov/education/license/index.html" target="_blank">public school teacher in the state of New Jersey</a>. I have also been certified as a <a href="http://www.padi.com/" target="_blank">SCUBA diver</a>, youth sports coach, in <a href="https://www.heart.org/en/cpr" target="_blank">CPR</a>, and have a license to <a href="https://www.state.nj.us/mvc/" target="_blank">drive both a car and a motorcycle</a>.<br />
<br />
I know who is doing the certifying, and more important, why.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj91Q9cVoLP5oLGHBfhHIjgs8NsGHtnYQRb-MFiiAKPn5uTHCuGF7Lb6yOBtUf2V832SM8byJLfZLrUGp_XcOj-vCuMMLHByu1kIKpFY6nzSwmUkyNBUSCHfgPIzuXV_KkZr6pQ_U6z3X-C/s1600/frs-nj.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="400" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj91Q9cVoLP5oLGHBfhHIjgs8NsGHtnYQRb-MFiiAKPn5uTHCuGF7Lb6yOBtUf2V832SM8byJLfZLrUGp_XcOj-vCuMMLHByu1kIKpFY6nzSwmUkyNBUSCHfgPIzuXV_KkZr6pQ_U6z3X-C/s200/frs-nj.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Future Ready Schools New Jersey Logo</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<a href="http://www.frsnj.org/" target="_blank">Future Ready Schools NJ</a> (FRSNJ) is a branch of <a href="https://futureready.org/" target="_blank">Future Ready Schools</a>, a national organization funded by folks who want to sell things to schools. FRSNJ even have a "vendor-agnostic"<a href="http://www.frsnj.org/ctpc" target="_blank"> Corporate Thought Partners Collaborative</a>. Because, well, I never fully grasped the because....<br />
<br />
I have been learning what I can from their online sources. I wanted to learn more, but email exchange with their program coordinator started with pablum and descended from there. It didn't end well. I was called "dishonest" publicly.<br />
<br />
Before your district dives into a certification process that gets you a nice banner and a star on a map, consider the time and resources you are using to.earn the accolades. Consider who benefits. Consider the online behavior of its members while representing the organization.<br />
<br />
There is no charge, but among the mortal time ain't free.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Bronze, Silver, Gold levels--chasing one's tail over and again....</span></div>
</div>
</div>
doylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12901661320505882735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956989639073843954.post-85353405108189458992018-08-26T10:39:00.002-04:002018-08-27T07:04:23.818-04:00Lichen and the local economy<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7SMg03eR-piHK2gtihlnQ7-2ElhMG-YZS6nc5f3YLdyHRIN4JF5CTHw_OKkNiLlCXwnngiLIY6d0nD7qwBy_kIkTVqRuyfLdfJBZKAX_MvzbOxqiKN2kzAn1HSAyN5uUoByzfbSiisGEb/s1600/lichen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1359" data-original-width="1043" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7SMg03eR-piHK2gtihlnQ7-2ElhMG-YZS6nc5f3YLdyHRIN4JF5CTHw_OKkNiLlCXwnngiLIY6d0nD7qwBy_kIkTVqRuyfLdfJBZKAX_MvzbOxqiKN2kzAn1HSAyN5uUoByzfbSiisGEb/s320/lichen.jpg" width="245" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lichen on one of our chairs</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I saw a wasp attack a patch of lichen on our Adirondack chair.<br />
<br />
Wasps are fascinatingly creepy as they stalk prey among the flowers, but this one got fooled. It stalked the lichen, then made its attack. After a moment or two of trying to do something with the lichen, it flew a couple of feet away and<a href="https://blaypublishers.files.wordpress.com/2016/07/lechner-leb-41-interesting-incidents-with-sphex-pensylvanicus-linnaeus.pdf" target="_blank"> then cleaned its legs, classic displacement behavior</a>.<br />
<br />
(It was embarrassed.)<br />
<br />
The chair was made by a local man, the price not cheap, but more than fair, and he was surprised we opted not to oil them. We like to see things age as much as we do, and, in the local way of acceptance that is under-rated, he nodded and went on his way.<br />
<br />
Because we chose not to oil our chairs, they have turned grey and are covered by lichen. They are now ten years old, and will likely last another 5. With oil, they may have outlived us.<br />
<br />
When we need new ones, we’ll seek the same man. We do not need chairs to outlive us. That's what plastic is for.<br />
<br />
Because we chose not to oil them a decade ago, I got to see a wasp explore the lichen, which might not seem like much, but I enjoyed seeing that a wasp could be as easily fooled as a human.<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: xx-small;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: xx-small;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: xx-small;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: xx-small;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: xx-small;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">We are all easily fooled--life is foolish, in the best sense of the word.</span></span>
</div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<br /></div>
<br />doylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12901661320505882735noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956989639073843954.post-18900787198183992102018-08-26T10:26:00.000-04:002018-08-26T11:59:23.617-04:00On collecting seedsWe trust our words more than our hands, the abstract more than our senses. This will make you unhappy (even if it makes you rich).<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBv8Akd7KY8GNb2TfMpsYRNb92VNfG7txCxCel0S0a1VvlKupm6ImJMosPDiZCosT817STjWjSk4MQFT76RC7VLoIFv3_XBlQFm_aiQLSyoIEB4xTUt5nSO9X7pa_fDQxkP_oZ3HV5DlOA/s1600/seeds.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="627" data-original-width="593" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBv8Akd7KY8GNb2TfMpsYRNb92VNfG7txCxCel0S0a1VvlKupm6ImJMosPDiZCosT817STjWjSk4MQFT76RC7VLoIFv3_XBlQFm_aiQLSyoIEB4xTUt5nSO9X7pa_fDQxkP_oZ3HV5DlOA/s320/seeds.jpg" width="302" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dill seeds from the garden</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I collect seeds to let my fingers be fingers, the dexterity and subtle touch I miss when just hitting a keyboard or groping a pen.<br />
<br />
I collect seeds because each one has a story, each one has a shared history, each one is alive.<br />
<br />
I collect seeds because I can imagine the flower it once was, and is no longer, and the bees that visited, and may still be around.<br />
<br />
I collect seeds because I am sloppy, and some will scatter and get washed by the rain to the crack in the driveway, where a singe dill plant once stood.<br />
<br />
I collect seeds because I like to be outside under the sky.<br />
<br />
I collect seeds because I like to. I buy them anyway, because it’s easy (and cheap) enough to support folks who still trust their hands, and I end up with plenty of leftovers in cute packages that I share with my students.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"></table>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"></table>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Never underestimate the value of a cute paper packet to a 14 year old child..</span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"></table>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"></table>
doylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12901661320505882735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956989639073843954.post-70805223411266185102018-08-18T19:07:00.003-04:002018-08-18T19:25:54.143-04:00Baby trees in the classroomI have access to baby trees. Odds are pretty good that you do, too. Look around your yard, your park, your school grounds, and once you know what to look for, once you know that there's <i>something </i>to look for, you will see them.<br />
<br />
Every weed you pull out of the ground has a history, a family as deep and ancient as yours, and a yen for life. A sapling has no need for a rosary to know what matters.<br />
<br />
If you pull a tiny tree out of the ground carefully, put it in a pot with some dirt, some water, and some sunlight, there's a good chance it will survive.<br />
<br />
Knowing that that baby trees exist, knowing what's possible, that's the point.<br />
<br />
For less than a dollar a pot, I have a chance to change a child's world.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgEhi4XkcrHO1A-A0wR2MrX8JwK9XgN09yp_PpirZXm9xcWgKSpGHf3dnJFaQFjR4EzS4JpAwO8bXzlBO5eXRPYqWnD7kysKvey-uZJgK7IaJSIbNOaTwCXPjp9gAqrMMLbqSxYRWm_kCE/s1600/baby+trees.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="240" data-original-width="400" height="192" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgEhi4XkcrHO1A-A0wR2MrX8JwK9XgN09yp_PpirZXm9xcWgKSpGHf3dnJFaQFjR4EzS4JpAwO8bXzlBO5eXRPYqWnD7kysKvey-uZJgK7IaJSIbNOaTwCXPjp9gAqrMMLbqSxYRWm_kCE/s320/baby+trees.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://treesource.org/news/lands/national-forest-foundation/" target="_blank">National Forest Foundation plans to plant 50 million trees!</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The problem with human imagination is that it cannot hold the natural world within its vision. Nothing on a screen can replicate a small pot holding a tree. a tree that will be much bigger than the child who holds it, a tree that will, if planted carefully, outlive the young person who planted.<br />
<br />
We hide this from kids, their mortality. We fear our own mortality. We do not talk of the dead in America.<br />
<br />
(Yes, I know each of our tribes have the stories, and each of our tribes shares the stories, and each of our tribes commune with those who have left this Earth, but that is not the <i>American</i> story that refuses to accept limits.)<br />
<br />
Most kids will not want a tree, and a few who want it will be too fearful to ask. A few of the trees will die before next spring.<br />
<br />
But a few will survive this winter, settle into the Earth, and will grow, knitting carbon dioxide into the stuff of trees, the stuff of us, and a child will notice the tree, long after I am dead, because the tree is interesting.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">What else could a teacher possibly want?</span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">My camera is not working well--photos whenever I can.</span></div>
<br />
<br />doylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12901661320505882735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956989639073843954.post-88196333126190471952018-08-12T20:12:00.002-04:002018-08-14T07:13:38.304-04:00STEM is not the answer<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">A year ago young adults marched through an American city carrying torches.<br />One was wearing a shirt suggesting he was an engineering student.<br />So I'm throwing this up again.</span></div>
<br />
The push for STEM rests on the misguided premise that public education exists to serve the nation's economic and military interests, as though our economic and military objectives are set in our Constitution.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIR9HGWxvdHf04Xuc8-REvhUHh3snSDjrkrYBBysG9A69tLefyHGt3IvY-qbbRciwb1tsyHueyI9n1NWDIANPaLqkgGkHx_PWM_BkOiAvTgy3w9JusDqpMvPvq2ib-ezp-FY4UTHE6PJHg/s1600/aransas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="292" data-original-width="520" height="356" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIR9HGWxvdHf04Xuc8-REvhUHh3snSDjrkrYBBysG9A69tLefyHGt3IvY-qbbRciwb1tsyHueyI9n1NWDIANPaLqkgGkHx_PWM_BkOiAvTgy3w9JusDqpMvPvq2ib-ezp-FY4UTHE6PJHg/s640/aransas.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
</div>
</div>
<br />
There are many good reason to study math and science in school, but serving the international economy is not one of them. Maintaining the world's most powerful military while decimating its diplomatic corps is not a good reason, either.<br />
<br />
I'm betting that the young man on the far right (see what I did there?) is not <a href="https://www.arktimes.com/ArkansasBlog/archives/2017/08/16/arkansas-linked-charlottesville-marcher-identified-apologizes-to-those-misidentified" target="_blank">wearing the <b><span style="font-size: x-small;">ARKANSAS ENGINEERING</span> </b>tee</a> just for show.<br />
<br />
Why is he marching? He's probably angry about something. Maybe engineering isn't as lucrative as he had hoped, maybe he blames the rising tide of Indians or Korean or Japanese, maybe he's unhappy because he's been chasing a carrot he realizes never tasted good.<br />
<br />
Maybe he really believes that the young woman who kicked his ass in fluid mechanics got an extra 20 points on her final exam because, well....<br />
<br />
If you are a science teacher, never forget that any compulsory education, science or otherwise, is never politically neutral. You have the same ethical obligations to our students that your social studies faculty have.<br />
<br />
Don't hide behind "but I teach science." Don't hide behind "but I'm color blind."<br />
<br />
You're teaching children some exceedingly powerful stuff--help them develop the maturity needed to handle it<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">(It's all I can do without sputtering....)</span></div>
doylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12901661320505882735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956989639073843954.post-47354664625660535352018-08-08T20:28:00.001-04:002018-08-08T20:28:10.707-04:00Nagasaki, again<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Nagasaki, again--because we must never forget.</span></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
On August 9, 1945, just over 2 1/2 pounds of plutonium was converted to energy 1650 feet over Nagasaki.</div>
<br />
Two and a half pounds--about the weight of a 28 week premature newborn baby.<br />
<span style="font-size: 180%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"> <br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">長崎</span></span></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDm4AwsG3MNPgT66Ne7_-N3Jcu1IyQK0t3ECPUiG4TpKq1NzYM_tLBbCcf_vWusfvI7DwlC1aGBCXqOlxd4JPI9l4TbNk7ujAMIbAT1NJVoyM0yIq8irWQBDgU1qMWqeVpai8vd0gXgM0/s1600-h/nagasaki.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367956155161765714" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDm4AwsG3MNPgT66Ne7_-N3Jcu1IyQK0t3ECPUiG4TpKq1NzYM_tLBbCcf_vWusfvI7DwlC1aGBCXqOlxd4JPI9l4TbNk7ujAMIbAT1NJVoyM0yIq8irWQBDgU1qMWqeVpai8vd0gXgM0/s400/nagasaki.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 300px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 195px;" /></a><br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZJdtxJAnVqn4Fw_HnkjYCG8DGFSUHvdR5XePzSeTS1gHJFyjxnWbqnVT9mKFNg_T0wx3Eg3bLJZwhEG2VJMF_Pni74MBpmfaV8aB3mARDKAUGks_SKHI1KTRfWBOLdGSWnB9KqTk3SpU/s1600-h/hagasaki+comment.gif"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367956590647026258" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZJdtxJAnVqn4Fw_HnkjYCG8DGFSUHvdR5XePzSeTS1gHJFyjxnWbqnVT9mKFNg_T0wx3Eg3bLJZwhEG2VJMF_Pni74MBpmfaV8aB3mARDKAUGks_SKHI1KTRfWBOLdGSWnB9KqTk3SpU/s400/hagasaki+comment.gif" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 300px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /><span id="formatbar_Buttons" style="display: block;"><span class="on down" id="formatbar_Italic" style="display: block;" title="Italic"><img alt="Italic" border="0" class="gl_italic" src="https://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif" /></span></span></a><br />
<br />
<br />
Yosuke Yamahata, A Japanese army photographer, took this picture the day after the <span style="font-style: italic;">Fat Man</span> fell over Nagasaki.<br />
<br />
More of Mr. Yamahata's photography can be seen <a href="http://www.exploratorium.edu/nagasaki/photos.html">here</a>.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: 78%;">The photo and the quote are from © The Exploratorium, <a href="http://www.exploratorium.edu/">www.exploratorium.edu</a><br />
<br />
Yes, this is a repeat, and will be repeated every year that I maintain the blog.<br />
We must never forget what we are capable of doing.<br />
</span></div>
doylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12901661320505882735noreply@blogger.com0