About the blog name: "Gently Hew Stone" is a pun on the author's name. Michelangelo said that while carving his statue of David, he envisioned the finished statue inside the block of raw marble and just chiseled away the pieces that weren't part of it. Writing this blog is like that: I picture myself sitting before a hunk of raw possibilities with this keyboard as my chisel, and my labor of love is to reveal the beautiful ideas inside, to hone it to perfection by peeling away layers of ordinary thought and, ultimately, to bring to light the masterpieces just below the surface of it all.
What does this say about our modern age? Las Vegas, like most big cities, is home to:
an Old Spaghetti Factory
a Cheesecake Factory
a Sushi Factory
a Tan Factory
an Ethel M. Chocolate Factory
a “BratWorks” (a kind of mechanized sausage assembly line, it seems)
and even an Arts Factory
Alongside all of these, we also have dozens of office-oriented mini-malls called “business parks.”
So, contemporary urban cityscapes are places where one can find art and junk food at factories, but financial transactions take place in ugly concrete-and-stucco parks. Weird.
I’m resurrecting an installment I used to do, a bite-sized anthology of things I had recently seen or been thinking about in the various areas that interest me. Here are the first five parts of this series: Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V.
ARTS
Like him or not, it’s fun watching Jackson Pollock work:
EDUCATION
“The more computers we have, the more we need shared fairy tales, Greek myths, historical images, and so on….The more specialized and technical our civilization becomes, the harder it is for nonspecialists to participate in the decisions that deeply affect our lives.” –E.D. Hirsch, Cultural Literacy, 1987. (I highly recommend this great article about Hirsch’s new book.)
HUMOR
I’ve used this clip in Forensics and English 102 classes to make a point about the nature of debate and persuasion:
LANGUAGE AND LITERATURE
Something I’ve been impressed by as I pick my way through this masterpiece is how Tolstoy dwells at intervals on both the honor and heroics of conflict as well as the strain and loss. His vision is truly majestic.
“What’s this? Am I falling? My legs are giving way,” thought he, and
fell on his back. He opened his eyes, hoping to see how the struggle of
the Frenchmen with the gunners ended, whether the red-haired gunner had
been killed or not and whether the cannon had been captured or saved.
But he saw nothing. Above him there was now nothing but the sky–the
lofty sky, not clear yet still immeasurably lofty, with gray clouds
gliding slowly across it. “How quiet, peaceful, and solemn; not at all
as I ran,” thought Prince Andrew–”not as we ran, shouting and fighting,
not at all as the gunner and the Frenchman with frightened and angry
faces struggled for the mop: how differently do those clouds glide
across that lofty infinite sky! How was it I did not see that lofty sky
before? And how happy I am to have found it at last! Yes! All is vanity,
all falsehood, except that infinite sky. There is nothing, nothing, but
that. But even it does not exist, there is nothing but quiet and peace.
Thank God!…”
–Leo Tolstoy, War and Peace, Part III, chapter XVI
LIVING WELL
The older I get, the more I enjoy sports. I’ve watched a lot of clips like this:
POLITICS AND SOCIETY
”The moment the idea is admitted into society that property is not as sacred as the laws of God, and that there is not a force of law and public justice to protect it, anarchy and tyranny commence. If `Thou shalt not covet’ and `Thou shalt not steal’ were not commandments of Heaven, they must be made inviolable precepts in every society before it can be civilized or made free.”
–John Adams, “A Defense of the American Constitutions,” 1787
RELIGION
I love this story, which I call “the parable of the kite.” I’ve used it in teaching struggling disciples and my own children:
The second thing that has helped me receive these blessings is the principle of courageous obedience. I am so grateful for God’s gift of laws and commandments. Peace, hope, and direction are outcomes of striving to live the teachings of Jesus and obeying His laws and commandments. The scriptures teach, “Great peace have they which love thy law” (Ps. 119:165). They also teach that “he who doeth the works of righteousness shall receive his reward, even peace in this world, and eternal life in the world to come” (D&C 59:23).
While Brother Pinegar served as president of the Provo Missionary Training Center, as you can imagine, we often talked to the missionaries about the feelings of happiness and peace that accompany courageous obedience to true principles. We talked of the influence of the Holy Ghost that comes to those who are obedient. We encouraged the missionaries to make obedience their quest. I enjoyed telling them the story of the little boy who went to the park with his father to fly a kite.
The boy was very young. It was his first experience with kite flying. His father helped him, and after several attempts the kite was in the air. The boy ran and let out more string, and soon the kite was flying high. The little boy was so excited; the kite was beautiful. Eventually there was no more string left to allow the kite to go higher. The boy said to his father, “Daddy, let’s cut the string and let the kite go; I want to see it go higher and higher.”
His father said, “Son, the kite won’t go higher if we cut the string.”
“Yes, it will,” responded the little boy. “The string is holding the kite down; I can feel it.” The father handed a pocketknife to his son. The boy cut the string. In a matter of seconds the kite was out of control. It darted here and there and finally landed in a broken heap. That was difficult for the boy to understand. He felt certain the string was holding the kite down.
The commandments and laws of God are like the kite string. They lead us and guide us upward. Obedience to these laws gives us peace, hope, and direction.
A boy in an honors class mocked an assignment on Tuesday with his partner, then decided to declare to everyone that “this class is pointless.” I called him on it, and he wasn’t the least bit ashamed or penitent.
I called his mother and she was mortified. She apologized profusely and asked to come in to see me and have him apologize, even asking if she could sit in class with him next time. We met before school Thursday and she read him the riot act. I showed her his work from that day, which was by far the shortest, sloppiest paper from the class. I said I’d like him to do it over, and she assured me it would be done over the weekend, adding that any future work that was of substandard quality would also be revised to my liking.
After this had all been explained, I asked him if he understood. He sat silently until his mother told him to answer with, “Yes, sir.” He sullenly said, “Yes.” She told him again to be more respectful, threatening to smack him if he didn’t. He again responded with attitude, so she reached around and slapped him on the back of the head. This time he said, “Yes, sir.”
She thanked me for my effort and assured me again that he would perform better, in academics and behavior. I have no doubt that he will.
Yesterday afternoon I told my oldest son about the rebooted series V, and how much I enjoyed the original version as a kid. When I explained the plot to him–aliens show up and solve all our problems, pretending to be our friends, so they can win our trust and then eat us–he said, “Hmm. Sounds like that Twilight Zone episode, ‘To Serve Man.’” He’s only ten. I was so proud I could have cried.
**********
After watching the show last night (truly excellent, by the way), I was struck by just how silly, impossible, and outrageous the story was, though. I mean, c’mon, an attractive leader shows up out of nowhere, promising to magically solve our problems with little more than broad bromides about hope and peace, and everybody just goes gaga and falls into line? Why, this leader even has a simpering media quickly trained to jump through hoops! And I refuse to accept that this leader’s minions could be actively recruiting young people to subversively carry on their work.
Seriously, who could ever buy into a story that crazy? Clearly, clearly, this is some pretty far out science fiction. Luckily, nothing like that could ever actually happen in real life.
The bulk of the Declaration of Independence–the entire body section–is devoted to a laundry list of complaints against the failures of British rule, meant to justify to the world why the colonies were revolting. Among the intolerable items that pushed our Founding Fathers over the edge was this:
“He has erected a multitude of new offices, and sent hither swarms of officers to harass our people, and eat out their substance.”
Whoa. Can you imagine that? Being subject to a powerful, sprawling, bureaucratic federal government with infinite departments staffed by busybody stooges with nothing better to do than persecute law-abiding citizens, robbing them of their property? Living in a nation like that would truly be a nightmare. No wonder our forefathers had to rebel against it. I know if I lived in similar circumstances, I’d want to change the system.
I enjoy listening to these two shows on the radio, but they often irritate me. Not the hosts, the callers. I have to wonder about a lot of these callers; if they’ve actually listened to the shows for long, the answers to their questions should be obvious.
Typical Dave Ramsey caller: “I make $500 a year, I have no savings, and I owe a million dollars on my credit cards. Do you think I should get a speed boat?”
Typical Dr. Laura caller: “My live-in boyfriend cheats on me and steals from me, but he says he’ll leave his wife someday. I really, really like him. Should I give him the $1000 I’ve been saving for my kid to go to college?”
What’s even worse than clueless callers are the ones who argue with the host after the advice has been given. Don’t you hate it when people ask for advice and then argue about it if they don’t like it? Then why did you ask? If you only wanted to hear what you’ve already made up your mind to do, then leave me alone.
I just finished The Lost Symbol. Rather than analyze or review it (my thoughts would mostly echo these, anyway), I’m inclined to satirize it:
Using only letters that are also used in Dan Brown’s new novel, the following secret version can be found. Clearly, it’s a purposeful conspiracy!
Chapter 1
Robert Langdon flexed his toned muscles as he mused passionately about the importance of his deep thoughts.
Chapter 2
“That’s it! I figured out the first riddle, based on this obscure clue. You see,” said Langdon, “a ‘taco’ is a kind of food used by certain peoples throughout the world for eating.”
“That’s amazing!” said the detective.
“Wow!” said the beautiful woman.
“Only a genius could have come up with that twist!” said the old friend.
“A super-genius!” said the physically abnormal villain.
The first four weeks of school are over. Some thoughts:
As students transition into using new vocabulary words in their own writing, they seem to have an instinct for using unfamiliar words as adjectives. I find myself reviewing parts of speech much more than I’d like to at the high school level. Most teens need to be reminded that parts of speech are not interchangeable. The first word of our first unit is “adulterate,” the verb meaning “to corrupt or make impure.” Without closer guidance, they’ll just use it like this: “He was a really adulterate guy.” Of course, if they’re talking about Bill Clinton, I guess I could give them half credit.
I usually don’t like open house, the annual night where parents come in to meet their kids’ teachers. I never know what to do up there, not that it ever makes any difference, anyway. Life goes on as if it never happened, and I forget everyone I met as soon as I go home. This year, though, one parent thanked me for assigning a list of options from which students have to choose for their independent reading this quarter. “If you hadn’t assigned these,” she said, “the kids would never read them.” It’s nice enough to get a compliment, but it’s even better when a parent understands the reasoning behind what I do!
Yesterday, a college student called me to say that he’d missed the last two weeks of class because his grandmother died. He offered to bring me a note from his parents. I told him that was unnecessary.
Every year I notice this: before our morning announcements, kids in an honors class will all stand and recite the Pledge of Allegiance together. Kids in non-honors classes rarely will. It’s a very stark, and very absolute, difference. This begs a chicken-or-the-egg question: is a student’s citizenship influenced by their academic performance, or is their academic performance influenced by their citizenship? Or are both, perhaps, shaped by the same factors in the home environment…
Checking books that students had brought to class to read yesterday, one girl showed me a copy of Whitman’s Leaves of Grass that included multiple editions as well as extensive editorial material such as analytical essays, biographical notes, and more. It was huge. It was one of the biggest books I’d seen in a long time.
While the young woman and her friends around her took special note of the pretty purple cover, I blurted out, “Wow! I bet you could kill a walrus with that!”
This seems to be a pretty standard unit of measurement with men–just how large of an animal could be bludgeoned with an object. When deciding between, for example, a pair of step ladders, a man must choose either the one that, hypothetically, could be used to kill a mule or the one that could kill a walrus.
And, of course, this also works as a compliment. Truly, there is no higher praise a man could lavish on the briefcase, bowling ball, or newborn baby of another man than something like, “Dude, you could totally kill a buffalo with that.”
Last Monday as I drove to work for the first day of school, I flipped through radio stations hoping to find a song that might serve as a good omen for the year. The soft adult contemporary station was playing Rod Stewart’s “Forever Young.” Hmmm…nope. The classic rock station was playing The Who’s “Baba O’Riley;” you know, the one that goes, “It’s only teenage wasteland.” Heh heh. Nice.
But a couple of days later the same station was playing “School’s Out For Summer.” Really, classic rock station? On the third day of school? That’s just mean.
*****
My class sizes are pretty bad, just like every one else’s. My smallest class has 36. I have two classes at 45. At least I don’t teach freshmen. Thanks, budget cuts!
*****
In one of the sections of English 101 that I have two nights a week at UNLV, I saw a familiar face. Turns out he’s a kid I had his first year in high school, four years ago. I guess he wasn’t looking forward to another year with me: he dropped the class the next day. I’ll try not to take that one personally!
*****
I got a lot of traffic for a post I wrote last week about my teaching resolutions for the new year. I forgot a very important one: never again will I ever refer to a student aide as “yon servant wench.” Apparently, nobody thinks this is funny except me. But now who will fetch me flagons of grog?
*****
I usually get a sore throat by the end of the first week, but this year I got it by day two. Not a good sign. Must be getting old. I feel much better after the weekend, so we’ll see how it goes today. I look forward to my annual cold by the end of the month. It’s a cruel twist of fate that my easiest month of the year–August–tends to be followed by my hardest–September.
*****
We went to a football game Friday, which was fun, except it was hot and there were teenagers there. I forgot, that’s why I never see popular movies on opening night, too. We moved to the very edge of the stands, where it was much cooler and there was a lot less cussing. I noticed the visitor side, which was sedate and comfortable. The next time we see a football game, it will be when we’re the visiting team!
*****
At the end of the fist week every year, I have every student write a letter about themselves, their goals and opinions for the year, and I seal it up and lock it in a drawer until the last week of school. No matter how much I tell girls not to write that they’ll be with their boyfriends forever, most do, and they end up laughing or crying when they get the letter back in June. This is also a good illustration of transiency around here. Though some kids remember to ask for their letters when they move, most of us forget these for most of the year, and even though I try to track down the kids who are still at our school but in different classes, every June I end up throwing away at least two dozen letters, and a good fourth of the class in June won’t get a letter because they weren’t here the first week of school. Way to be stable, Mom and Dad!
*****
I’ve only scared three kids out of my honors class so far. Must. Try. Harder.
