I Am Headed Toward Teaching with Great Aplomb

So tonight was cool.

Tonight was kind of an "aha" moment, if you will. On Tuesday nights, I have my methods class. In this class, I spend two and a half hours actually learning how to instruct my future students. This evening, we worked through a lesson about rhyme, using poetry. We, as a class, got to act like a group of over-sized (and in some cases, over-hairy) bunch of middle-schoolers. Just for the record, this is how the lesson proceeded:

We were split up into groups of five or six.
We were directed to parts of the room that had giant pieces of butcher's paper taped up to the wall.
Each group was given a Crayola marker.
The teacher instructed all of us to write as many words ending in one particular sound as we could in thirty seconds.
She did it again for three more word sounds.
In all, there was an -eat, an -ack, an -at, and an -it.
Once we had all our words put up on the paper, she asked us what was going on between all those words in each list. Our response, after we'd gotten out of the college mode of thinking, was that the words all sound the same.
She explained to us that this similar word-sound is called rhyme.
At that point, she asked us to all spend a few minutes in our groups making up little poems.
(Our poem was as follows:
Pull your shirt down in the back
Else your face is headed for a smack
Tell your belt to lose its slack
'Cause no one wants to see YOUR CRACK!
We thought this to be terribly clever, and endearingly puerile.)
Finally, we were all allowed to read our poems to the rest of the class - both our instructor and the lot of us knew that no one would be satisfied until we had all shared.

Sorry for the distraction, but imagine, if you will (and if you hadn't already), a group of twenty-something twenty-somethings doing this, and the result is an amusing little scene. Of course I had to share.

Anyway, after we were given an example of a particular lesson plan played out, we looked at the written version of it, and started making connections. Then, we were asked to partner up and work with that person over the next week on creating a lesson plan over rhythm. (Of no real consequence, but perhaps worth knowing anyway - my partner and I settled on a lesson plan that teaches iambic pentameter, for inclusion with a unit on Shakespeare.)

Since we had a little class time left, we all set to work on our lesson plans. My partner and I floundered a little, trying to decide where to start, and what was most important, and all that...but at some point, it just clicked. We started pulling random bits of information out of the air and putting them in place in the page set aside in my OneNote school notebook. (I love that program, by the way.) We started playing verbal, lesson-plan-writing ping-pong. Ideas flew back and forth, bouncing onto the page and leaving a mark each time, some little bit of information, of instruction where there once had been white space. And eventually, I got on a roll. (I know that the phrase is overused, but I can't help it - I like it.) I started spouting off group work elements, necessary materials, assessment guidelines, all without hesitation. (I'm sure I frustrated my partner though - people were asking questions about my computer, and I felt obliged to answer them for the sake of being helpful. See, they were borrowing the computer, so my partner was relegated to taking down was I was saying in the meantime in good, old-fashioned, handwritten text. So she had to filter computer speak from stuff that was actually important.)

So the short and skinny of it is this: I got really freakin' excited about writing my lesson plan. It wasn't especially creative, or innovative. But I felt like I knew what I was doing, and that I had not only a very clear idea of what would be needed to accomplish the goals we set forth, but a way to accomplish those goals while addressing the different learning styles of a class full of unique students. The end was tied up neatly, and I felt like our assessment was complete, but not overbearing, and fit in well with the flow of the whole activity. Succinctly put, it was very smooth. And this encourages me. I've never (truly) doubted that I have what it takes to be an effective teacher, but to jump into real-world application so quickly and effortlessly was empowering. I know it won't always be this easy, but I am now that much more excited for what I have to learn this semester.

Things are suddenly very real to me, and it's the good kind of "things are suddenly very real to me." I love it.

Nothing Fancy, This Evening.

If anyone reads this, I just had a thought this week. I want to share it with you, and while I try to remember it and apply it to my life, I want to challenge you to do the same. So here it goes:

Remember, as you go about your day, that Jesus died to save the people around you. He died for the annoying guy at Taco Mayo that waited until he got to the register to read the menu. He died for the person who cut you off in traffic this morning. He died for that antagonizing coworker who bothers you over your personal beliefs. Just think about it.

New Material for Dane Cook?

So I’m thinking that Dane Cook can add some new material to his act:

”So I walk up to this guy at Harry Potter, and I’m like, ‘Dude, you gotta let me into this movie.’ And he’s all, 'These people have been waiting all frickin’ night to see this movie, ya dee bag!’ So I’m like, you’d better let me in, or I’m going to hit you in the face with a knuckle sangwich!”

I imagine at this point he can do a little dance, or something visually amusing. (That’s what he does, right? His shtick?)

I saw this news story on the Internet this evening, and it inspired me to write. Apparently Dane Cook tried to cut in line at the the midnight premiere of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, but the theater staff turned him away. According to the article, he “stormed away.”

This is really not a fantastic story in and of itself, but it’s certainly a heartwarming one. It’s not really the fact that it’s Dane Cook (okay, so that’s a little part of it) – it’s the fact that someone who thinks they’re entitled got told “no.” I don’t really care for this idea that anyone deserves special treatment, regardless of status in entertainment.

A Child Named Butt

So Katie and I were laying in bed around one in the morning the other day...neither of us could sleep, really. Or rather, Katie wanted to sleep, and I was horribly, horribly talkative. Anyway, we were talking about baby names, and I really couldn't even begin to recall what led us to this, but we got to talking about names that are liable to get the kid made fun of. You know, names that sound like other words...and I had the most amazing idea ever. Name the kid the kind of thing he'd get called, anyway. Example: you want to name your kid Bud. You worry that he's going to get called "Butt." So, you skip the middle stuff, and just go straight to "Butt." If his name is Butt, how in the world are the other children in school going to make fun of him? What are they going to call him? Butt?

And I know what you're thinking -- that would be awkward, calling your child Butt all day. But (ha!), you just give him a nickname, like say, Bud. Problem solved.

I am a genius.

The Frustration of the Great Paradox of the Desire to Write (or) The Overuse of Prepositional Phrases

So I have a theory. No one has a desire to write.

One can write, or have no desire to write.

But I have a desire to write. My dilemma is this: I want to write; I want to tell a story. However, I don't have a story to tell. Or rather, if I do, I don't know what it is. I feel like I have a lot of things, bits of stories, parts of characters, portions of scenes...a cloud, if you will, full of stuff that could be found in a story, but no story to speak of.

This evening, Zach came over to eat with us, and while he was here, he let us read and edit a prologue of a story that he is working on for his writing class. There were, honestly speaking, a few things that I thought teetered on the edge of...not hackneyed, but something like that. However, despite those things, I thought the story, overall, was very good. The story had a strong start, and his prose was fantastic, really. As we read it out loud and corrected bits and pieces here and there, I began to realize that I want to write something. I could write something, and I think I could write it well. But I simply can't think of a story to tell. Maybe I'm just not trying hard enough. Maybe it's something I need to focus on all day. Maybe a good story just comes to you, and I need to sit back and let it happen.

Really, the only thing I know is there are a few qualifications that must be met before I feel like I could write a story.

1. The story has to be reasonable. It can not have a grand adventure, and it can not have magic, or supernatural aspects. Nothing out the ordinary, just a story composed of its characters. The plot should simply be a device to advance the characters, not the main attraction
   
2. The story's conflict has to solve itself, so to speak. I have to admit, now that I've had plenty of time to understand the deus ex machina, it's incredibly easy to identify. And it's irksome. I'm not one to say anything, given that I'm not writing, but I think that's the laziest thing a writer can do, to pull a solution out of nothing. If nothing else, work your solution into the story early on. But I think anyone who studies literature will tell you that the solution to the story's conflict has to be born of the conflict itself.
3. The conflict has to be difficult. I know that this makes writing a story so much harder, but in terms of good literature, I hate a conflict that is, if you will, like a wall. The obvious solution would be to go over the wall, and that's the only goal of the entire story. Unless you write a story in such a way that there is some way to go around/under/through the wall, then it can not be a simple, obvious solution. The conflict then, should not be like a wall, but something much more complex.
   
4. I have to have rich characters. No stupid, shallow characters. If there is a person worth having more than about three lines of dialogue in my story, then they need to be important. A reader would need a reason to care about the character, for better or worse. The reader should wonder why the character acts in the way he/she does, or better yet, make a conclusion about the same.

I think this is all I have for now; it's all that comes to mind at the moment. As you may understand at this point, I have plenty of rules for my story, but no story. And that is simply unfulfilling.

Bourne, James Bourne (or, My Thoughts On Quantum of Solace)

Worry not, I will post no spoilers.

(Except this one: my title isn't as clever as I'd like, because as you may have read, Bond doesn't say "Bond, James Bond," in this movie.)

So this was an interesting movie. It was interesting because it really is a complete re-imagining of the Bond movie. Previous movies had vacuous villains, ludicrous locations, and goofy gadgets. (Man, I'm awesome.) Not to mention, the plot lines were getting just a little bit tired (okay, a lot tired), they were insanely predictable, and getting progressively, willingly stupid-er. Quantum of Solace does change things around, and the result is a little confusing, but mostly refreshing.

I'm beginning to think that the Bourne trilogy has had much more of a profound effect on film than I ever thought. Quantum of Solace takes whole chapters out of the "Bourne Guide to Film-Making" -- everything is shot extremely close to the action (it helps that most scenes are in cramped spaces, anyway), the editing is lightning fast, and there are bits and pieces left out here and there (we don't actually see him get into a car, for example; one cut, and he's driving away). The action takes a lot of cues from Bourne, too. This time around, there are no gadgets -- no knocking out baddies with poison dart cufflinks. So everytime Bond gets into a fight, he has to use what he has at hand to help him. (And no, no one gets stabbed with a pen.) It's a little weird to see Bond act just like Jason Bourne, but I think it works really well for this movie, especially given the way they wanted to reboot the Bond franchise.

Another aspect of the movie worth noting -- this is the first Bond movie ever that is a direct sequel. So if you haven't seen Casino Royale, Quantum of Solace won't make a whole lot of sense to you. Which leads me to my one real complaint about the movie. If you've seen Casino Royale, you may want to watch it again before seeing Quantum of Solace, because the movie is still pretty confusing. There's no setting up the movie at all; it pretty much assumes that you remember the first movie in pretty good detail. It took while to recall the events of the first film, and even after that, the film didn't do a whole lot to help me out. I had to do a lot of hard thinking about why characters were doing certain things in the movie, and what their motivations were. Maybe that's on purpose; they want me to think about the movie. But I was in no mood to do thinking. I would have liked for everything to be explained a little more than it was. But by the end of the movie, I felt like I had a pretty good grasp on the events and plot. But it took until the end -- not something I much care for.

But all those considerations aside, I did really like the movie. Although sometimes it dragged a little (probably because I didn't understand what was going on), it was a good action flick. I really do appreciate the Bond they're building -- he seems like a real person. Still stone cold, still able to do what duty requires, but he doesn't look like a goofball doing it. (Think Pierce Brosnan Bond. Not like him.) Again, I liked the movie a lot, and I plan on watching it again when it comes out on DVD (and not just because I want to watch it with a better understanding of the plot -- it's just worth watching again). So if you like action movies, or Bond films (or both, if you know what's good for you), you'll go watch this one while it's still in theaters. It's definitely worth the money to get the experience on the big screen.

(By the way, the opening song by Jack White and Alicia Keys was awesome.)

The Awkward Laugh, and MacGyver.

Yes, I did put awkward laughs and MacGyver together in the post title. No, they aren't related.

So I just have a small thought: you all know the awkward laugh. You're having a (usually shallow) conversation with someone, and you say something that you realize is probably just a little stupid, or inane. So you laugh. As you finish what you're saying, you laugh. Why? What is that? I'm asking. I know we've all been there, and I'm sure I've done it plenty of times So I'm not faulting anyone for it, but I really do wonder why in the world we do this. I'm sure there has to be a reason for it, but I have no idea what it is. So, reader, why do we laugh when we make fools out of ourselves? My only working theory is that in an effort to disguise our foolishness, we try to turn the whole thing to humor, instead. Anyway.

I think this is worth sharing with all of you -- it is a list, on Wikipedia, of all the problems that MacGyver has solved, and how he solved them. As far as I'm concerned, that's like, reading for my entire weekend.
List of Problems Solved by MacGyver (Wikipedia)