I'm tired. It's been a long day. Sundays have, for whatever reason (and there are good reasons), been the longest tutoring day for a while. But it occurred to me that what seems normal to me might be bizarre to others. So here's a look into a typical atypically busy day for me.
First: Why are Sundays busy? Students have homework due Monday, AND it's a weekend day (meaning I can schedule morning appointments), AND people usually don't go out Sunday nights. Many all-day sports events appear to be scheduled Saturday, and not Sunday, presumably to avoid conflict with religious services. Note: a few of the families I work with do attend regular religious services, and yet find time Sundays for tutoring.
Anyway, here's what happened today:
7:00 AM: Got up before my alarm. Been exercising and consuming lots of caffeine lately, which has translated into slightly shorter sleep cycles. Handling it well so far. Alarm was scheduled for 7:15, and I have a meeting at 7:30, so I grab a quick shower.
7:30 AM: Meeting over Skype with student based in Denmark. How did I end up with a student in Denmark? Had to do with going to Korea, and tutoring a student who then attended a school in Israel, who was friends with this guy, who then moved to Denmark. I'm world famous! Sort of. We work on a Theory of Knowledge paper concerning psuedoscience, in which I help the student break down some of the social/psychological reasons why psuedoscientific beliefs might persist. Meet for about an hour, which generates lots of notes shared in a Google Doc.
8:30 AM: clean dog shit and eat a banana, with handwashing somewhere inbetween. Spend a bit too much time browsing the Internet. Start drinking my day-old coffee.
9:15 AM: leave house
9:45 AM: Arrive in Rosemead, but starting to feel hungry. Rashly bolt into 7-11 and buy a hot dog. Actually two. Gross. Send a quick text to a parent who had wanted to schedule a meeting today. But I'm full up. Tell her that her son can ask me questions via text, and I'll reply when I can (probably not before 11pm).
10:00AM: Meet with 9th grade student. We start with geometric constructions. Although lacking in experience, I figure out how best to help her. We pivot to Othello, which we've been analyzing for the last several weeks. Many discussions about psychology, motivation, etc. Somehow she brings up Ke$ha, and I learn that she has accused her producer of rape. A short discussion about the difficulty of proving rape follows. Ordinarily I wouldn't have touched that topic with a ten-foot pole, especially with such a young female student. But we've gotten to know each other well enough that I thought she deserved honest answers. The second tutoring session I had ever with her, I was ambushed by questions about STDs for her health class. She asked me what oral sex was. So the high-water mark for awkwardness had already been reached. Two hours of analysis and frustrations with a compass, I leave. In months of tutoring, I've never formally met the dad, though he's usually in the other room, like The Wizard of Oz. Weird.
12:00PM: Start driving as quickly as I can to Fullerton. Scheduled to meet a student at 12:45, though he's asked for more time, presumably because matrices aren't going well.
12:55PM: Got there late thanks to horrendous parking near CSUF, but decided to get coffee before sitting down at the Panera. This is a relatively new student -- incredibly polite, but it perhaps feels like I don't know him particularly well. Sometimes that comes with time. Work on systems of equations, Gauss-Jordan elimination, and row-reduced echelon form. Second meeting covering matrices. Needed some clarification from last time about why we use a parameter, t, in cases of infinite solutions. Covered matrix multiplication and calculating determinants. Also covered inverses, but -- lucky guy! -- he apparently doesn't need to calculate the inverse of a 3x3 or larger matrix. Does have trouble setting up some of the word problems -- I did the best I could in our closing minutes to explain how to distinguish between the unknown variables and given quantities, but I suspect some follow-up will be necessary. One hour was all that was needed, so I'm back on schedule.
2:30 PM: Arrive at a student's house in Yorba Linda. Been meeting with this student for about two years. She's awesome -- very well-adjusted, despite the pressures of being in a lot of high-level classes and having successful parents. Definitely think she will go far. Math has been frustrating, and she had failed a test recently. We reviewed some differential equations and parametric/polar calculations of arc length, area, etc. She often is (mostly) mock-angry when I take her teacher's side about anal retentive notation.
"I've decided to start trying."
"You've been trying. Last meeting went really well."
"Well, I decided to start trying this week."
"Oh." *flashback to the previous week of senioritis*
She is slightly distracted by her mom being on the phone. I provide a rationalization for the multitasking phone work. "You always cut her slack!" She's not the only one, kid.
I love this family. Leave at 3:30 for La Habra.
3:45 PM: Hunger strikes me like a lightning bolt strikes a solitary tree in a vast, forbidding prairie. I find a wrapped cookie in the back seat, originating from a gift from a kindly Australian doctor I drove around LA last week. It is dry and crumbly. But it stems the temptation to stop at another 7-11.
4:00 PM: Meeting with a junior boy, who may or may not play too much League of Legends. (Spoiler: probably too much) We work on a few calculus problems involving u-substitution. Until recently, we had focused only on physics, but I guess integrals have gotten a bit harder. It's still 70/30 physics/calc.
"You didn't need my help with these questions."
"Well... when I looked at them, they looked really hard. But now that we're doing them..."
"So you didn't attempt any of them before I showed up?"
He seemed a bit jokier. It had taken a couple months for him to relax a bit -- he still works like he's in a rush. One problem involving stretching a wire seemed particularly troublesome. He wanted to give up, but I made him stick with it. The appreciation at the end of the problem was palpable. (Not.) "I hate physics." Says the future engineer. After an hour, time to take a short detour for food.
5:15 PM: While ordering my shrimp burrito at Rubio's, I sigh and return the call of a mom that had called me a few hours ago. She wants to schedule an appointment tomorrow morning for her son to work on applications to summer science programs. Against my better judgment, I agree to a 9am meeting tomorrow. She wants to meet for four hours, but I explain that the writing process will probably require a 1-2 hour meeting, then a follow-up. Apps are due Thursday. Communications have been mildly problematic -- maybe it's culture, or the fact that my phone can't receive iMessages.
5:25 PM: Burrito is in my lap. I refrain from eating it while driving, as that's unsafe and extra gross. Experience(!) teaches me that these Ancho Citrus Shrimp Burritos tend to leak a bit. It rolls from lap to the floor at a stoplight, but remains intact (and delicious).
5:30 PM: Tutoring a sophomore who has already committed to University of Maryland: College Park on a softball scholarship. (!) She's that good. We work a bit on arithmetic and geometric sequences for Algebra 2, then pivot to chemistry and enthalpies of formation. I'm pretty bad at these. I have to Google some help, but we muddle through it to calculate the average bond energy of ozone. We close out the session by going over some of the PSAT 10 she's practiced. I notice energy level flagging for both of us, but we both perk up after a brief tangent about softball and how the smaller diamond makes play very, very different from baseball. It's fascinating stuff -- maybe I'll see if we can work some Algebra 2 into that. Problems on PSAT seem to focus on semicolon use (needs to separate independent clauses) and not checking that a sentence added at a particular location is related to the content immediately before and after that sentence. She may pick sentences that seem to match the overall passage, with little regard to context.
I started tutoring her older sister about three years ago. The sister has graduated. I probably should've raised rates a while ago -- they are grandfathered in at about 2/3 my current rate -- but I'm grateful to them for providing a review from a parent with a daughter. I suspect that parents felt more comfortable with me tutoring their daughters after that review posted.
A nice family even if they care way more about sports than I do. Leave at 6:45.
6:45 PM: Reply to some texts. Had to remind a student why an integral involving a ln x and having one limit at x=0 is an improper integral and needs to be handled using limits. Head to La Palma.
7:15 PM: End up in terrible traffic at the Valley View offramp of the 91. See a crane truck leave the scene, and then see the car upside down. At least 3 cars involved, with lots of ambulances and fire trucks. Memento mori. Drive onward, with Muse playing (instead of NPR, today's a sort of day to listen to the limited number of songs I have on my phone -- mostly Muse, Two Steps From Hell, and some scattered songs: "Jar of Hearts", "Confident", "Pruit Igoe", "Prelude to War", "Counting Stars", and "Crazy", to name a few.)
7:30 PM: Arrive and start tutoring separable differential equations. My student owns an adorable dachshund that always smells like piss, but is really cute. Named Snoopy. Love how much noise his ears make when he shakes his head. Anyway, student appears to need some supplemental work on limits, as she is having trouble with end behavior. Make a note to send her a worksheet. I can feel my fatigue based crabiness set in, so I try to lighten the mood a bit by mentioning that I had heard about a group that performs synchronized swimming at high end parties. (My student is really serious about synchronized swimming.) She knows the group, and says that within the synchronized swimming community, they have a bad reputation.
Despite playing water polo and doing competitive synchronized swimming, she's very shy. Hope she gains confidence to speak up a bit more on the academic side. Leave after an hour to Diamond Bar, and send off a text informing them that I'll be about 10 minutes late.
9:10 PM: I show up ten minutes late, but managed to reschedule someone for tomorrow after parking. Evidently someone made use of the Google calendar I had set up.
It's been a few weeks since I had met with this student -- the last meeting ended in tears for the student, as his bottled up fear and anxiety came to the fore. It's kind of an awkward meeting -- how could it not be? But we don't touch the elephant in the room, although I did notice that when I asked the mom "How are you?" she replied, "He's fine."
We work on Ampere's Law and Biot-Savart. It's a shame that the most technically demanding work is coming at the end of the day, but I'm able to help him figure out why we use cosine instead of sine to find the vertical B-component (had to do with the angle labeled), and why we express it as R/r (because we use similar triangles to get a value for the cosine of that angle). Fielded some additional questions regarding current density and when to use straight/circular Amperean loops.
Thankfully, the meeting is an hour, and not the two I had prepared for. I suspect we'll have to talk again, about physics and other stuff. He's smart, but he feels he so far behind. I need to think about how to help him see that it's not a race.
10:30 PM: get home, then start working on a problem texted to me. Evidently the student dropped a 2, again, in a polar integral. Surprise! That's why the numbers are off. I eat leftovers, watch a few minutes of Kimmel (enough to TOTALLY call that Matt Damon was hiding in Ben Affleck's suit), and then head to my room. Early morning tutoring, and I have a blog post to write. Not going to have energy to submit any summaries or billing through WyzAnt tonight.
It was a long, long day. But I laughed a lot. I genuinely enjoyed most of it. I know it's unsustainable -- even if I don't work nearly this hard any other day of the week. But it was a good day.
Showing posts with label life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label life. Show all posts
Monday, February 29, 2016
Saturday, January 25, 2014
Failures in Secular Humanist Duty
There are times I can't help but wonder if I have failed in my Christian secular humanist duty.
I'm at Panera. There was a hunched, old white man sitting in a booth. He was bent; even walking, he bends over at almost a 90 degree angle. He reminded me of Edourad Manet's The Ragpicker. Like the subject of that painting, he was hunched over enough to obscure the face. Anonymous, old, solitary. He had a combover, oily but not filthy.
Initially, I couldn't tell if he was muttering, or praying, or having a medical episode. His mouth was moving, but I know that the occasional motion of the lips and mouth is a property of older people, especially those with dentures. He looked disheveled, but not quite homeless.
Perhaps I would've thought nothing of it, except for the possible medical angle. But I noticed he has a small suitcase with him. He also had a small backpack. If he wasn't homeless, he was some distance from home, in a restaurant, alone.
I would like to say that I approached him immediately. But I didn't. I hesitated. And then I distracted myself by working on a lesson summary.
Next to us were two middle-aged, middle-class women discussing a Christian book. They were discussing, if I recall, a story about hiring 100,000 Israelites to fight a battle. A subsequent search reveals that it's 2 Chronicles 25. And I couldn't help thinking "Pharisees!" in my head. "Here is a child of the God you believe, and you are too trapped in your false faith of personal salvation for you to live the life of service that is true faith!"
But was I any better? Why should I hold Christians to a higher standard than myself?
Eventually, I did approach him. I apologized for disturbing him.
"I'm sorry to disturb you sir. I don't know if you were praying or napping... but... is everythign alright?"
"We..."
"We... we can exchange..."
I thought he was going to say stories.
"We can switch seats in a second. I know you want to plug in your computer."
My first reaction, sadly, was to explain that there were no power outlets there. Fortunately, I caught myself and said,
"No no. I'm fine. I just... I just wanted to see if you were okay."
He replied, "I'm fine."
"Sorry for disturbing you."
I went back to my computer, a bit ashamed and embarassed. Maybe he thought I judged him just because he was old and bent. I confess that I was shocked that his words were clear and articulate. No slur, no quavering of the voice, other than initially. Maybe I had injured his pride.
He sat there for another ten minutes, hands clasped in a sort of prayer or murmur, occasionally moving his mouth. Then he bussed his plates, then left. I bid him farewell, and he responded with a short goodbye.
I watched him go. I thought about getting up and opening the door for him. But what if that was more patronization? He managed fine.
After I saw him disappear, slowly, around a corner, I looked back at his seat. There was a dark stain on the part of the cloth backing where he had been sitting. It wasn't just Maybe he had been there a while. Maybe he had been sweating a great deal. Maybe his clothes were filthy. I thought about touching it to determine which it would be. But then I realized how ridiculous, and possibly weird, that might be.
But I did take a picture. It wasn't just an impression on the seat.
Sometimes, we try to do the right thing. But it almost never turns out the way we think it should. Maybe if I had phrased it as a request for company, instead of an inquiry into his status. I think Mr. Rogers would've done that; he had a way of making people feel that he needed something from them. Pope Francis appears to do that as well.
And now, I realize something.
Acts of kindness are often characterized as acts from a superior to an inferior.
Maybe we couch it in different, kinder words, but it often presumes a difference in power, ability, or resources. Even as we celebrate them, we implicitly define things like generosity and grace in a way that diminishes the recipient. That's not the intention, of course, but it's deeply entwined in our appreciation of kind acts.
Here was someone who maybe resisted that, who didn't want pity or help, and didn't need it. Even if he did, maybe the way I communicated my offer was a bit too paternalistic, and while kind and open, with a touch of sanctimony.
It's like when I was feeding the homeless. I thought I would go out and help them. But as it turns out, I didn't save them. I couldn't. I had a lot of conversations. I saw some drunken ugliness. I heard these young kids talk politics, and silently judged the guys who had boom boxes but no food. I overheard them talking about their social security checks, and spending it on either necessities or booze. I heard about how things got rougher after the shooting of a police officer at the nearby courthouse, how the police, who had been more relaxed, were now drawing their guns on the homeless.
Through it all, I don't know if I made a damn of difference in their lives. The narrative is supposed to go that they made a difference in mine. But to be honest, the only thing I learned is that it's damn hard to make a difference in anyone's life. I'm more selfish than I was before I volunteered, but that could be to age, or other things in the last ten years.
Whatever good it did me, the experience has competed with, and lost to, a host of other influences that shaped my present character.
So today, I find that I am more inarticulate than I had realized.
And judgmental. I judged those poor women sitting a couple feet away. Maybe they had already asked. Maybe they just have different personal that I, a single, young male, don't appreciate. They were simply working together on their own spiritual betterment; perhaps they didn't notice him. They weren't Pharisees. I was the Pharisee.
Who have I helped lately? At least one woman was helping the other develop as a Christian. Who had I helped lately, except for pay, or because I was asked to?
I'm still judging. The couple sitting there after he left didn't bus their plates. And I have to stop myself into weaving it into some romantic narrative about the dignity of age and/or poverty and the lack of respect of the decently off Boomers. It's not data, and it's not the point. Leave it, Ryan.
And he did that which was right in the sight of the Lord, but not with a perfect heart. -2 Chron 25:2
I'm glad I spoke with him, however briefly. I gained no great insight into him. I didn't help him. And I learned that I'm a pretty flawed person.
And I did end up thinking a bit more about acts of kindness than I had expected. And maybe, next time, I'll both communicate it better, and be more mindful about what I offer, and what I ask. Even when I offer help, tangible or not, I am implicitly asking for a person's trust, a person's time, a person's courtesy.
That's a lot.
I'm at Panera. There was a hunched, old white man sitting in a booth. He was bent; even walking, he bends over at almost a 90 degree angle. He reminded me of Edourad Manet's The Ragpicker. Like the subject of that painting, he was hunched over enough to obscure the face. Anonymous, old, solitary. He had a combover, oily but not filthy.
Initially, I couldn't tell if he was muttering, or praying, or having a medical episode. His mouth was moving, but I know that the occasional motion of the lips and mouth is a property of older people, especially those with dentures. He looked disheveled, but not quite homeless.
Perhaps I would've thought nothing of it, except for the possible medical angle. But I noticed he has a small suitcase with him. He also had a small backpack. If he wasn't homeless, he was some distance from home, in a restaurant, alone.
I would like to say that I approached him immediately. But I didn't. I hesitated. And then I distracted myself by working on a lesson summary.
Next to us were two middle-aged, middle-class women discussing a Christian book. They were discussing, if I recall, a story about hiring 100,000 Israelites to fight a battle. A subsequent search reveals that it's 2 Chronicles 25. And I couldn't help thinking "Pharisees!" in my head. "Here is a child of the God you believe, and you are too trapped in your false faith of personal salvation for you to live the life of service that is true faith!"
But was I any better? Why should I hold Christians to a higher standard than myself?
Eventually, I did approach him. I apologized for disturbing him.
"I'm sorry to disturb you sir. I don't know if you were praying or napping... but... is everythign alright?"
"We..."
"We... we can exchange..."
I thought he was going to say stories.
"We can switch seats in a second. I know you want to plug in your computer."
My first reaction, sadly, was to explain that there were no power outlets there. Fortunately, I caught myself and said,
"No no. I'm fine. I just... I just wanted to see if you were okay."
He replied, "I'm fine."
"Sorry for disturbing you."
I went back to my computer, a bit ashamed and embarassed. Maybe he thought I judged him just because he was old and bent. I confess that I was shocked that his words were clear and articulate. No slur, no quavering of the voice, other than initially. Maybe I had injured his pride.
He sat there for another ten minutes, hands clasped in a sort of prayer or murmur, occasionally moving his mouth. Then he bussed his plates, then left. I bid him farewell, and he responded with a short goodbye.
I watched him go. I thought about getting up and opening the door for him. But what if that was more patronization? He managed fine.
After I saw him disappear, slowly, around a corner, I looked back at his seat. There was a dark stain on the part of the cloth backing where he had been sitting. It wasn't just Maybe he had been there a while. Maybe he had been sweating a great deal. Maybe his clothes were filthy. I thought about touching it to determine which it would be. But then I realized how ridiculous, and possibly weird, that might be.
But I did take a picture. It wasn't just an impression on the seat.
Sometimes, we try to do the right thing. But it almost never turns out the way we think it should. Maybe if I had phrased it as a request for company, instead of an inquiry into his status. I think Mr. Rogers would've done that; he had a way of making people feel that he needed something from them. Pope Francis appears to do that as well.
And now, I realize something.
Acts of kindness are often characterized as acts from a superior to an inferior.
Maybe we couch it in different, kinder words, but it often presumes a difference in power, ability, or resources. Even as we celebrate them, we implicitly define things like generosity and grace in a way that diminishes the recipient. That's not the intention, of course, but it's deeply entwined in our appreciation of kind acts.
Here was someone who maybe resisted that, who didn't want pity or help, and didn't need it. Even if he did, maybe the way I communicated my offer was a bit too paternalistic, and while kind and open, with a touch of sanctimony.
It's like when I was feeding the homeless. I thought I would go out and help them. But as it turns out, I didn't save them. I couldn't. I had a lot of conversations. I saw some drunken ugliness. I heard these young kids talk politics, and silently judged the guys who had boom boxes but no food. I overheard them talking about their social security checks, and spending it on either necessities or booze. I heard about how things got rougher after the shooting of a police officer at the nearby courthouse, how the police, who had been more relaxed, were now drawing their guns on the homeless.
Through it all, I don't know if I made a damn of difference in their lives. The narrative is supposed to go that they made a difference in mine. But to be honest, the only thing I learned is that it's damn hard to make a difference in anyone's life. I'm more selfish than I was before I volunteered, but that could be to age, or other things in the last ten years.
Whatever good it did me, the experience has competed with, and lost to, a host of other influences that shaped my present character.
So today, I find that I am more inarticulate than I had realized.
And judgmental. I judged those poor women sitting a couple feet away. Maybe they had already asked. Maybe they just have different personal that I, a single, young male, don't appreciate. They were simply working together on their own spiritual betterment; perhaps they didn't notice him. They weren't Pharisees. I was the Pharisee.
Who have I helped lately? At least one woman was helping the other develop as a Christian. Who had I helped lately, except for pay, or because I was asked to?
I'm still judging. The couple sitting there after he left didn't bus their plates. And I have to stop myself into weaving it into some romantic narrative about the dignity of age and/or poverty and the lack of respect of the decently off Boomers. It's not data, and it's not the point. Leave it, Ryan.
And he did that which was right in the sight of the Lord, but not with a perfect heart. -2 Chron 25:2
I'm glad I spoke with him, however briefly. I gained no great insight into him. I didn't help him. And I learned that I'm a pretty flawed person.
And I did end up thinking a bit more about acts of kindness than I had expected. And maybe, next time, I'll both communicate it better, and be more mindful about what I offer, and what I ask. Even when I offer help, tangible or not, I am implicitly asking for a person's trust, a person's time, a person's courtesy.
That's a lot.
Thursday, January 16, 2014
The Cornell Folder
I have a Cornell leather folder. It’s one of those interview
folders sold in a student store. It was probably never meant to see such heavy
use – I use it to hold my notes for tutoring. It’s a bit torn and ragged and
beat up, and I suppose that’s appropriately symbolic. My time there was quite
painful.
I don’t know why I keep it. Or I do, and I am afraid of the
reason. There’s something possibly pathetic about clinging to this vestige of
respectability, to a past that never was as impressive as is pretended. But it’s
something that I excuse by saying that it impresses parents.
A few days ago, I was at a Starbucks. I had a few minutes before
a tutoring session nearby, and planned on logging on to Facebook for a few
minutes. I remember thinking in the parking lot- should I bring the folder? For
whatever reason, it was a question, and for whatever reason, I answered in the
affirmative.
I sat down, and powered up my computer. A man nearby noticed my folder, and asked me about it.
“Cornell? Did you go there?”
I answered that yes, I had gone there as a graduate student. Thinking the conversation was over, I went back to my computer.
“What did you study?”
Reflexively, I told him “astrophysics”. And I’ve done this enough to know that when I say “astrophysics”, I intend it as a conversation-stopper. I say “astronomy” or “space science” when I wish, consciously or unconsciously, for the conversation to continue.
“What’s that?”
I explained to him that it involved studying the stars, using physics. He sounded impressed, and claimed that that was far beyond him, though he did mention that he was a civil engineer.
He asked me what I did now. It’s a sore topic; I know I’ve fallen far down the social and economic hierarchy. But I did the best I could to muster my dignity and reply that I tutor students full-time.
He returns to the topic of Cornell, and elite schools. He mentions his cousins, graduates of Stanford and Princeton, respectively. I act appropriately impressed, and perk up a bit when he mentions his high school age nephew. Maybe there’s a tutoring job here.
I sat down, and powered up my computer. A man nearby noticed my folder, and asked me about it.
“Cornell? Did you go there?”
I answered that yes, I had gone there as a graduate student. Thinking the conversation was over, I went back to my computer.
“What did you study?”
Reflexively, I told him “astrophysics”. And I’ve done this enough to know that when I say “astrophysics”, I intend it as a conversation-stopper. I say “astronomy” or “space science” when I wish, consciously or unconsciously, for the conversation to continue.
“What’s that?”
I explained to him that it involved studying the stars, using physics. He sounded impressed, and claimed that that was far beyond him, though he did mention that he was a civil engineer.
He asked me what I did now. It’s a sore topic; I know I’ve fallen far down the social and economic hierarchy. But I did the best I could to muster my dignity and reply that I tutor students full-time.
He returns to the topic of Cornell, and elite schools. He mentions his cousins, graduates of Stanford and Princeton, respectively. I act appropriately impressed, and perk up a bit when he mentions his high school age nephew. Maybe there’s a tutoring job here.
We talk a bit more, my interest now focused more by greed
and humanity. But it wasn’t completely cynical salesmanship; I had told myself
at some point earlier in the day that I needed to engage more with people, and
here was an opportunity. I remember feeling like a sociopath as I was thinking
these things.
We spoke more. I found out he was 48, and hadn’t worked for a couple years because of cancer. He was currently undergoing chemotherapy.
At some point, I ask him if he’s changed anything about how he lived life because of cancer. I didn’t mean the practical and routine, or lifestyle changes due to physical limitations. I didn’t mean that, and he didn’t hear that.
“My brother has always said that I had a temper. I was angry a lot. Now, I try to be more calm.”
I would’ve never guessed that this was an angry guy, though he had plenty to be angry about. He had cancer. He lost his job. He didn’t have any kids to help him. He was sitting in a coffeeshop, on a Wednesday afternoon, while others were living, working, picking up their children, and not dying of cancer.
I told him that he seemed like he had a good heart, and that he was a better person now. I don’t know if it came off as trite, or hackneyed. But it seemed to fit, and the compliment, as is customary I suppose, evoked a response that combined polite dismissal with understated hope that it was true.
I had to excuse myself. I expected that tutoring and the rest of the day would fall into place, as it should if this were an allegory. But it was a chaotic mess of difficult students and long hours on the road between appointments. Life may give you these moments, but it rarely strings them together for you. You have to fight to extract perspective.
I don’t think he would’ve spoken with me had I not had that folder. I would’ve been just another guy in business casual on his laptop.
We spoke more. I found out he was 48, and hadn’t worked for a couple years because of cancer. He was currently undergoing chemotherapy.
At some point, I ask him if he’s changed anything about how he lived life because of cancer. I didn’t mean the practical and routine, or lifestyle changes due to physical limitations. I didn’t mean that, and he didn’t hear that.
“My brother has always said that I had a temper. I was angry a lot. Now, I try to be more calm.”
I would’ve never guessed that this was an angry guy, though he had plenty to be angry about. He had cancer. He lost his job. He didn’t have any kids to help him. He was sitting in a coffeeshop, on a Wednesday afternoon, while others were living, working, picking up their children, and not dying of cancer.
I told him that he seemed like he had a good heart, and that he was a better person now. I don’t know if it came off as trite, or hackneyed. But it seemed to fit, and the compliment, as is customary I suppose, evoked a response that combined polite dismissal with understated hope that it was true.
I had to excuse myself. I expected that tutoring and the rest of the day would fall into place, as it should if this were an allegory. But it was a chaotic mess of difficult students and long hours on the road between appointments. Life may give you these moments, but it rarely strings them together for you. You have to fight to extract perspective.
I don’t think he would’ve spoken with me had I not had that folder. I would’ve been just another guy in business casual on his laptop.
There’s some irony here; brand-name institutions like
Cornell build their reputation on exclusivity, not inclusiveness. But that
itself provides us something to talk about. It gave this man an opening to talk
with a stranger. For a brief moment, both of us felt less alone.
Saturday, March 3, 2012
Ten of my malleable perspectives on the world
I am not looking forward to a discussion with a family friend about religion. He is a devout Christian; I am a recently converted agnostic/atheist. (I'm still most comfortable somewhere between what I believe each term means.) Functionally, I guess I'm a bit of a Unitarian - I help out and occasionally attend my family church. Granted, it's a pretty liberal denomination (United Church of Christ), which, in practice, means that biblical literalism is low on the priority list, assuming it even appears.
But this post isn't about my journey to and from Christianity (or Buddhism for that matter...). I decided to just throw out a few things I perceive of the world around me, and open myself up to the challenge of refining or rejecting these conceived notions. So have at it - I'll offer them as points with an economy of explanation.
1. Keynesian economics is mainstream economics, supported by considerable evidence and pretty basic economic logic. It runs into practical issues only because of the ratchet effect of government spending, which is a political problem, but should be addressed after economic recovery has stablized, and not during the process.
2. I personally know too many great people of faith to reject the value of faith in America and in the world, even as I don't personally count myself among believers. I still attend church occasionally because it provides a community I haven't been able to find elsewhere.
3. US foreign policy has been sabotaged by our messianic perspective on our mission in the world, stemming from Woodrow Wilson and a general cultural heritage born of relative peace, prosperity and stability within our borders. There is room to temper this with a bit of realism, and still be a reasonably decent member of the community of nations.
4. Birth order plays a very large role in personality. A lot of things that were previously confounding about my family and friends became more understandable when I started viewing things through that lens.
5. In extreme cases (bipolar disorder, schizophrenia, etc.), prescription drugs are necessary and life-saving. But antidepressants are not really useful. However, they are somewhat habit forming, in that the withdrawal period is horrible.
6. It is possible to make a joke about anything. Anything. However, most of us lack the ability to either execute or appreciate such a joke. The possibility helps us heal and move on; the recognition of our limitations in that facility keep us from being complete jackasses.
7. The European Union is not arthritic because of its models of the welfare state. It has problems because of a structure that gives veto power to each member and the divergence of culture and interests within the community. Centralization and effective execution of Europe-wide domestic economic reforms and effective foreign policy will require an external threat. The Soviet Union is gone, and America, while criticized, is never seen as a credible threat. Therefore, barring a dramatic change, we have witnessed the peak of EU power for our lifetimes.
8. Anthropogenic global warming is almost self-evident in its correctness given a fairly basic level of physics - or it is according to my understanding of the science. If you studied and understood quantum mechanics, you would understand why carbon dioxide and water vapor are relatively opaque in the infrared (rotational modes). This means it doesn't radiate away nicely - it gets somewhat trapped and leads to a higher temperature than if the atmosphere were transparent. If you understand where the oil came from, and appreciate some basic conservation of mass (with corrections for chemical reactions), then it makes sense that industrialization and deforestation are tied with an increase in CO2. Therefore, if burning fossil fuels, making concrete, and cutting down trees releases lots of CO2 and restricts its reuptake, and if CO2 is opaque in the infrared, and if that leads to higher surface temperatures and different weather patterns, then what the hell is the controversy?
9. Even so, we will not be able to stop global warming and climate change. Mitigation efforts will be needed. A lot of people will die, indirectly, because of this. It will be a tragedy, but spread out over so much time, and with enough other sources of blame (war, persistent poverty, greed, bad luck, religion) that the tragedy will be diluted into accepted normality. But mitigation companies will be well poised to be a spectacular growth field.
10. Australia's lifestyle, civil structure, and comedy are among the finest in the world. A shame it is also characterized by an intense hatred of boat people and aboriginals. I could consider living there for a large chunk of my life.
11. Engineers and lawyers make particularly difficult friends/partners, because the rules-based thinking contaminates area of lifestyle that are not well negotiated by rules-based systems (or at least rules-based systems with relatively complex levels of subordinate and superodinate "goods" - which I've never seen implemented particularly effectively by anyone).
12. Most social changes in civil rights are generational. People don't change their minds quickly, if at all. Laws and customs change when old people die.
13. I can't count.
But this post isn't about my journey to and from Christianity (or Buddhism for that matter...). I decided to just throw out a few things I perceive of the world around me, and open myself up to the challenge of refining or rejecting these conceived notions. So have at it - I'll offer them as points with an economy of explanation.
1. Keynesian economics is mainstream economics, supported by considerable evidence and pretty basic economic logic. It runs into practical issues only because of the ratchet effect of government spending, which is a political problem, but should be addressed after economic recovery has stablized, and not during the process.
2. I personally know too many great people of faith to reject the value of faith in America and in the world, even as I don't personally count myself among believers. I still attend church occasionally because it provides a community I haven't been able to find elsewhere.
3. US foreign policy has been sabotaged by our messianic perspective on our mission in the world, stemming from Woodrow Wilson and a general cultural heritage born of relative peace, prosperity and stability within our borders. There is room to temper this with a bit of realism, and still be a reasonably decent member of the community of nations.
4. Birth order plays a very large role in personality. A lot of things that were previously confounding about my family and friends became more understandable when I started viewing things through that lens.
5. In extreme cases (bipolar disorder, schizophrenia, etc.), prescription drugs are necessary and life-saving. But antidepressants are not really useful. However, they are somewhat habit forming, in that the withdrawal period is horrible.
6. It is possible to make a joke about anything. Anything. However, most of us lack the ability to either execute or appreciate such a joke. The possibility helps us heal and move on; the recognition of our limitations in that facility keep us from being complete jackasses.
7. The European Union is not arthritic because of its models of the welfare state. It has problems because of a structure that gives veto power to each member and the divergence of culture and interests within the community. Centralization and effective execution of Europe-wide domestic economic reforms and effective foreign policy will require an external threat. The Soviet Union is gone, and America, while criticized, is never seen as a credible threat. Therefore, barring a dramatic change, we have witnessed the peak of EU power for our lifetimes.
8. Anthropogenic global warming is almost self-evident in its correctness given a fairly basic level of physics - or it is according to my understanding of the science. If you studied and understood quantum mechanics, you would understand why carbon dioxide and water vapor are relatively opaque in the infrared (rotational modes). This means it doesn't radiate away nicely - it gets somewhat trapped and leads to a higher temperature than if the atmosphere were transparent. If you understand where the oil came from, and appreciate some basic conservation of mass (with corrections for chemical reactions), then it makes sense that industrialization and deforestation are tied with an increase in CO2. Therefore, if burning fossil fuels, making concrete, and cutting down trees releases lots of CO2 and restricts its reuptake, and if CO2 is opaque in the infrared, and if that leads to higher surface temperatures and different weather patterns, then what the hell is the controversy?
9. Even so, we will not be able to stop global warming and climate change. Mitigation efforts will be needed. A lot of people will die, indirectly, because of this. It will be a tragedy, but spread out over so much time, and with enough other sources of blame (war, persistent poverty, greed, bad luck, religion) that the tragedy will be diluted into accepted normality. But mitigation companies will be well poised to be a spectacular growth field.
10. Australia's lifestyle, civil structure, and comedy are among the finest in the world. A shame it is also characterized by an intense hatred of boat people and aboriginals. I could consider living there for a large chunk of my life.
11. Engineers and lawyers make particularly difficult friends/partners, because the rules-based thinking contaminates area of lifestyle that are not well negotiated by rules-based systems (or at least rules-based systems with relatively complex levels of subordinate and superodinate "goods" - which I've never seen implemented particularly effectively by anyone).
12. Most social changes in civil rights are generational. People don't change their minds quickly, if at all. Laws and customs change when old people die.
13. I can't count.
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Help for a friend seeking entrance into USMC Officer Candidate Program
Today I am appealing to you to help me find a way for a friend to successfully join the United States Marine Corps Officer Candidate Program.
I knew James in elementary school. He’d always been athletic, and a leader. From what I’ve learned about his cross-fit training, he’s continued that today. He’s come a long way from the guy who busted my chops because of lackluster performance on the flag football field. :) He’s lost a lot of weight, gotten fit, and helped inspire and train a lot of his friends. I believe he enjoys the respect and admiration of his colleagues and clients, and that both are well deserved.
I knew James in elementary school. He’d always been athletic, and a leader. From what I’ve learned about his cross-fit training, he’s continued that today. He’s come a long way from the guy who busted my chops because of lackluster performance on the flag football field. :) He’s lost a lot of weight, gotten fit, and helped inspire and train a lot of his friends. I believe he enjoys the respect and admiration of his colleagues and clients, and that both are well deserved.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Resurrected Facebook Post 5: True Story
True story:
I went with my cousin Renee to the mall. While she was trying on some clothes, I decided to try my hand at being French.
As you may know, I had originally intended to be French for Halloween. My costume was to consist of a horizontally striped shirt, a beret, and a cigarette (and possibly some French bread). I would also have a delightfully crappy French accent, and say only one phrase - "Life eees sheeet".
That ended up not happening. At the time, I worked with a French postdoc, Frantz, whom I adored. (He's also 6'10" and an expert in Aikido.)
I don't know where I am.
I went with my cousin Renee to the mall. While she was trying on some clothes, I decided to try my hand at being French.
As you may know, I had originally intended to be French for Halloween. My costume was to consist of a horizontally striped shirt, a beret, and a cigarette (and possibly some French bread). I would also have a delightfully crappy French accent, and say only one phrase - "Life eees sheeet".
That ended up not happening. At the time, I worked with a French postdoc, Frantz, whom I adored. (He's also 6'10" and an expert in Aikido.)
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