A short one, in light of recent posts.
Friday marked the last day for some of my students because those lucky buggers start school this coming Monday. I think it's a great credit to the Hawaii DOE and whoever had the brilliant idea of starting the school year in mid-July. I remember back in my day when public school started late August/early September, mid September if you were starting Kindergarten. I'm sad to see some of them go, but I leave them knowing that I've enriched their lives and showed them the wonder of science. Or at least entertained them for a few hours a week. Good enough.
Let's talk about Friday. Friday was a rather easy day because a large chunk of the day was scheduled for this guy from the zoo who came to talk to the kids about animals. His name was Uncle Jason, and he commanded the kids attention rather masterfully. I was honestly impressed. But I think it was in large part because he sounded like Andy Samberg on Parks and Recreation. I think it's because Uncle Jason is used to teaching a large group of kids outdoors at the zoo above the din of animal noises, and hasn't discovered his inside teaching voice. Regardless, it was my first hour of this job where I could just sit and watch someone else be in charge. It was a nice change of pace.
Due to the interruption of the zoo presentation, I only taught the three oldest groups that day. I've all but given up on the Mythbusters idea with all the groups except E, who seem to be the only ones able to grasp what a myth is. Which is fine, because it means less things I have to buy, and less of my paycheck I need to spend.
Having given up on the mythbusters idea with D and C groups, I scrambled for a replacement lesson. So I settled on giving them the myth that "You can't fold a paper in half 8 times".
Let the games begin.
I must say I am amazed by the ineptitude of some of these children. I thought this would be too simple, that they would realize that you can't do it with a normal 8.5x11 paper. But an inordinate amount of time was spent teaching them what "fold in half" means.
When I first gave them the assignment, I had no less than half the class come up to me with a paper they had folded into 8 sections (not folded in half 8 times). The other half would come up to me with a paper they had folded 8 times, but they had rolled a half inch lip up. Not half. Not even close. I'm not quite sure what this experiment had to do with science, but it kept them busy. If I had to justify it, I would say that it taught them the rigor of scientific testing, of precise definitions, and fine motor skills, all of which they could stand to learn.
There are two more days of this program left, plus some kind of carnival day I've been left out of the loop on. I have a hazy idea of what I'm doing on each of those days, though at this point I'm just trying to get to the finish.
This does mean, however, that come Wednesday night, I'll be jobless, aimless, and listless. I need something to do. I need projects to invest myself in, to obsess over, and to blog about. I have a few I've been planning since the beginning of the summer. But I'd sincerely appreciate some suggestions for projects to do with the remainder of my summer (a little over a month). Doesn't have to be science related, but it can be. Seriously people, when I get bored, horrible, horrible things happen, like this diddy.
Monday, July 12, 2010
Friday, July 09, 2010
I Fancy Myself A Modern Day Robin Hood
I've done a lot for these kids and for this job. Money, time have all been doled out in copious amounts to educate these kids. Through all the crudola these putzes have given me, I still find myself wanting to give more. Like a mother bird gathering food for her fledglings, I can hear their unspoken bleating cries calling out for further stimulation. The need to give unto them is so strong I would do anything for them. I would even steal for them.
I continued my sound unit with the remaining kids who did not get it yesterday. I decided to nix the whole letting them make the Screaming Cup thing, since I was beginning to hear the shrieking everywhere I went (I actually saw one of my students at the market, and he snuck up behind me and did the cup thing. Not cool, dude. But I probably would have done the same thing). Previously, I had just given them a simple drinking straw to play with, but I felt like stepping it up.
You can make a slide trombone version of the reed straw by taking a Slurpee straw as the reed, and a Big Gulp straw (which is just slightly larger) as the slide. It works remarkably well, and has always been one of my favorite experiments.
When I usually do it, I only need a few for myself and a friend or two, so grabbing an extra straw as I walk out of 7-11 isn't a big deal. But when you have to acquire straws for 40 something straws, it becomes a bit of a logistical issue.
My sister drove me to work that day and stopped of at 7-11 with me. I had planned this maneuver out the night before, and after synchronizing watches, the operation commenced.
I sent my sister down one side of the store where the food is, as a distraction, to buy something for lunch. Meanwhiles, I snuck around the other end to where the Slurpee and soda machines were. I first raided the Slurpee straws, grabbing everyone they had and stuffing them in my pockets. I next moved to the Big Gulp station, and grabbed as many straws as I could. One of those two handed jobs (ha). As I met my sister at the counter (since it would look suspicious if I walked in and didn't buy anything), I realized a complication. I was trying to hide my pilfered straws below the level of the counter, but that was rather difficult since I had to hold the bundle with two hands, hunched over to keep the straws at the appropriate level. I became self-conscious of my suspicious posture and I began to panic. So I tried some inconspicuous whistling. But in my panic I had forgotten I don't know how to whistle. So as I stood at the counter, spitting more than anything else, I turned and realized that there was a mirror right behind me, revealing to the cashier what I was hiding. The jig was up. I straightened up, waved my bundle of straws at the cashier, and rushed out of the store before anything could be said.
The children are beginning to sense that school is beginning to wind down, as each day they are becoming more and more unmanageable. I think they've been squished together to long, as the forced interaction with their peers is starting to strain their relations and cause tension. Today was a day of drama. Many hurt feelings, much crying. Several kids were pulled from my class throughout the day to go through some conflict resolution stuff. The ones who weren't, I had to deal with myself.
I don't really know how to deal with most crying children. As an example, I had C group in the afternoon, and I had them cut something, so one of my kids, S-----, was using the scissors. At one point in the class, one of the kids came over and pulled on my shirt, and told me that S----- was crying. I asked her what was wrong, and she said F---- was being mean to her. I caled Faith over and asked her what was going on. Apparently F---- came over to her and asked "can I have the scissors to give back to Mr. Sakimoto" (by F----'s recounting). It didn't sound right, but since S----- wouldn't say a word, I had to assume Faith was telling the truth. But knowing how S----- and a lot of these kids are, it wasn't impossible. For a lot of these cases, my first instinct is to just tell the kids to suck it up. Some of them are so damn sensitive, that I have a hard time imagining them functioning in the real world. Some of them just need to grow a pair.
I also want to throw things at most of them. These kids have no retention, at all. I'm not talking about the material, but simple instructions. I tell them everyday "if we cannot get through the class without interruptions, we will not do the experiment" to which they all perk up and straighten up. I tell them "if you keep talking, we will run out of time, and you will just sit at your desk for the rest of the time, while everyone else does the experiment". This usually gets them to quiet down. Until the minute had moves another tick, or I start to talk, which they take as a sign to start talking as well. And it's impossible to get their attention. I flash the lights on and off, I yell, sometimes I just sit there until the talking stops. I really want to throw things at some of them, because more often than not, it is a few brats who can't keep quiet, who can't keep still, and who are ruining it for the rest of the students.
I feel bad about large group discipline. I always hated being punished as a group in school because the offender was never me. I was always quiet, respectful and well behaved, yet I would have to sit in the cafeteria at recess with my classmates because Chris couldn't stop himself from throwing food. And I can see the same frustration with some of my better kids. One girl, A----, is at times a little rambunctious, but always quiets down and pays attention the first time I ask her. But her classmates cannot. And I see the selfsame pain, frustration and fear that she won't get to do the experiment. I've learned ways to sort out the good ones and make sure they are rewarded for their outstanding behavior, but as the day wears on, and I become more stressed, agitated, and aggravated, it become harder and harder. And so it goes as it goes.
I've been told many many times before that children have an amazing, unhindered and unfettered creativity (watching too many TED talks). But I have yet to see it.
I decided to do something ambitious with my older kids with the last few days of this program. I love the show Mythbusters. Sure, it lacks the rigor of true scientific testing, and I find many faults with their methodology, but I love their spirit, and it's some of the best television out there. And I had tested the waters before pitching this idea. I had talked to many of the kids and asked if they had seen the show and knew what it was about, and many of them said yes, and seemed really excited to do a Mythbusters like experiment. So we went ahead with it.
The first day I decided I would just introduce the project, and have them brainstorm and come up with original ideas for myths. It was a struggle getting them to understand what a myth was. I tried to explain as best as I could, and gave many examples (like "you can catch more flies with honey than vinegar"), and I explained that it had to be something we could test and find out an answer to, but at the end of the brainstorming, many of the kids came up to me with lists like:
As a closing thought, I have a suggestion for school systems across the country. Kids need to be trained in fine motor skills. So many of them have the hardest time folding paper in half, cutting with scissors, tying knots, passing string through a huge hole. I know they're young and uncoordinated, but many of them are simply hopeless without an adult. And so many are unwilling to try. They tell me it's too hard. And when I tell them they just need to give it a try, they become mad, or sad, and start crying. I can't deal with this. I need to start associating with people my own age for a bit.
And with that rantification down, I give you my shirt pocket:
I continued my sound unit with the remaining kids who did not get it yesterday. I decided to nix the whole letting them make the Screaming Cup thing, since I was beginning to hear the shrieking everywhere I went (I actually saw one of my students at the market, and he snuck up behind me and did the cup thing. Not cool, dude. But I probably would have done the same thing). Previously, I had just given them a simple drinking straw to play with, but I felt like stepping it up.
You can make a slide trombone version of the reed straw by taking a Slurpee straw as the reed, and a Big Gulp straw (which is just slightly larger) as the slide. It works remarkably well, and has always been one of my favorite experiments.
When I usually do it, I only need a few for myself and a friend or two, so grabbing an extra straw as I walk out of 7-11 isn't a big deal. But when you have to acquire straws for 40 something straws, it becomes a bit of a logistical issue.
My sister drove me to work that day and stopped of at 7-11 with me. I had planned this maneuver out the night before, and after synchronizing watches, the operation commenced.
I sent my sister down one side of the store where the food is, as a distraction, to buy something for lunch. Meanwhiles, I snuck around the other end to where the Slurpee and soda machines were. I first raided the Slurpee straws, grabbing everyone they had and stuffing them in my pockets. I next moved to the Big Gulp station, and grabbed as many straws as I could. One of those two handed jobs (ha). As I met my sister at the counter (since it would look suspicious if I walked in and didn't buy anything), I realized a complication. I was trying to hide my pilfered straws below the level of the counter, but that was rather difficult since I had to hold the bundle with two hands, hunched over to keep the straws at the appropriate level. I became self-conscious of my suspicious posture and I began to panic. So I tried some inconspicuous whistling. But in my panic I had forgotten I don't know how to whistle. So as I stood at the counter, spitting more than anything else, I turned and realized that there was a mirror right behind me, revealing to the cashier what I was hiding. The jig was up. I straightened up, waved my bundle of straws at the cashier, and rushed out of the store before anything could be said.
The children are beginning to sense that school is beginning to wind down, as each day they are becoming more and more unmanageable. I think they've been squished together to long, as the forced interaction with their peers is starting to strain their relations and cause tension. Today was a day of drama. Many hurt feelings, much crying. Several kids were pulled from my class throughout the day to go through some conflict resolution stuff. The ones who weren't, I had to deal with myself.
I don't really know how to deal with most crying children. As an example, I had C group in the afternoon, and I had them cut something, so one of my kids, S-----, was using the scissors. At one point in the class, one of the kids came over and pulled on my shirt, and told me that S----- was crying. I asked her what was wrong, and she said F---- was being mean to her. I caled Faith over and asked her what was going on. Apparently F---- came over to her and asked "can I have the scissors to give back to Mr. Sakimoto" (by F----'s recounting). It didn't sound right, but since S----- wouldn't say a word, I had to assume Faith was telling the truth. But knowing how S----- and a lot of these kids are, it wasn't impossible. For a lot of these cases, my first instinct is to just tell the kids to suck it up. Some of them are so damn sensitive, that I have a hard time imagining them functioning in the real world. Some of them just need to grow a pair.
I also want to throw things at most of them. These kids have no retention, at all. I'm not talking about the material, but simple instructions. I tell them everyday "if we cannot get through the class without interruptions, we will not do the experiment" to which they all perk up and straighten up. I tell them "if you keep talking, we will run out of time, and you will just sit at your desk for the rest of the time, while everyone else does the experiment". This usually gets them to quiet down. Until the minute had moves another tick, or I start to talk, which they take as a sign to start talking as well. And it's impossible to get their attention. I flash the lights on and off, I yell, sometimes I just sit there until the talking stops. I really want to throw things at some of them, because more often than not, it is a few brats who can't keep quiet, who can't keep still, and who are ruining it for the rest of the students.
I feel bad about large group discipline. I always hated being punished as a group in school because the offender was never me. I was always quiet, respectful and well behaved, yet I would have to sit in the cafeteria at recess with my classmates because Chris couldn't stop himself from throwing food. And I can see the same frustration with some of my better kids. One girl, A----, is at times a little rambunctious, but always quiets down and pays attention the first time I ask her. But her classmates cannot. And I see the selfsame pain, frustration and fear that she won't get to do the experiment. I've learned ways to sort out the good ones and make sure they are rewarded for their outstanding behavior, but as the day wears on, and I become more stressed, agitated, and aggravated, it become harder and harder. And so it goes as it goes.
I've been told many many times before that children have an amazing, unhindered and unfettered creativity (watching too many TED talks). But I have yet to see it.
I decided to do something ambitious with my older kids with the last few days of this program. I love the show Mythbusters. Sure, it lacks the rigor of true scientific testing, and I find many faults with their methodology, but I love their spirit, and it's some of the best television out there. And I had tested the waters before pitching this idea. I had talked to many of the kids and asked if they had seen the show and knew what it was about, and many of them said yes, and seemed really excited to do a Mythbusters like experiment. So we went ahead with it.
The first day I decided I would just introduce the project, and have them brainstorm and come up with original ideas for myths. It was a struggle getting them to understand what a myth was. I tried to explain as best as I could, and gave many examples (like "you can catch more flies with honey than vinegar"), and I explained that it had to be something we could test and find out an answer to, but at the end of the brainstorming, many of the kids came up to me with lists like:
- Egyptians
- Zeus
- Zombie
- What if you went to the beach with your family and saw a bird?
- Is it true that I saw you at the market yesterday?
- Do you sleep better with the lights on or off?
- Can you get sick from a dream (some of my kids claim this happens regularly)?
- Which catches more flies: Jackson Chameleon or a Frog?
- Which is dirtier: A fly or a cockroach?
- Can an average man lick his armpit?
- Does a dream catcher actually catch bad dreams?
- Does a gnat live better in water or Playdough (WTF?)
- Which will wear down faster: tennis shoes or high heels?
- Fire starting methods.
- Age at first white hair.
- Can you stand on 100 paper cups (I actually like this one).
- Can you count to 1000 in a minute?
As a closing thought, I have a suggestion for school systems across the country. Kids need to be trained in fine motor skills. So many of them have the hardest time folding paper in half, cutting with scissors, tying knots, passing string through a huge hole. I know they're young and uncoordinated, but many of them are simply hopeless without an adult. And so many are unwilling to try. They tell me it's too hard. And when I tell them they just need to give it a try, they become mad, or sad, and start crying. I can't deal with this. I need to start associating with people my own age for a bit.
And with that rantification down, I give you my shirt pocket:
: Many many Big Gulp straws, many many Slurpee straws, my ID, a pair of scissors, a homopolar motor, a Nature Valley Honey Oat bar, three pencils, two dry erase pens, one of those sweet high end erasers (confiscated), a paper airplane (confiscated), a paper clip necklace (confiscated. They were my paper clips), a slide trombone reed straw thing (confiscated. I warned them not to play with it in other classes), an eraser shaped like an Unagi-don (I kind of just wanted it).
Three more days of teaching, and a Field day type thing on the last day. The end is almost in sight, and I'm feeling groovy.
And if you've actually taken the time to read my inane ramblings and incessant rantings, thank you. I can't imagine people actually read this blog, let alone these obscenely long posts. And since very few will reach this point: baba booey baba booey baba booey baba booey.
Three more days of teaching, and a Field day type thing on the last day. The end is almost in sight, and I'm feeling groovy.
And if you've actually taken the time to read my inane ramblings and incessant rantings, thank you. I can't imagine people actually read this blog, let alone these obscenely long posts. And since very few will reach this point: baba booey baba booey baba booey baba booey.
Thursday, July 08, 2010
The Other Teachers Hate Me
And with good reason.
Today we covered sound. I thought the best way to do this would be to make noise making things. However, since I'm still a young'n, a fresh-faced rather sophomoric teacher, I did not anticipate what sort of problem giving 90 kids noise making toys would create. And these weren't soft, clacking things. They were loud, roaring things.
One thing we made was a straw oboe. You cut the end of the straw off into an isosceles triangle, producing two triangular tabs, simulating an oboe reed. You blow on it, and it makes noise that sounds very much like what a bassoon reed alone sound like.
Pair this with another noise maker, and I was just asking for it. We made what's called a Screaming Cup (I should have been warned by the fact that it's called a Screaming Cup).
Ah, what a horrible cacophony today was. And some of the teachers weren't happy. But the kids had fun, I got paid, and no one died. And in all honesty, that's all that really matters.
Here's today's shirt pocket:
I've learned that if I leave anything out (i.e. not in my shirt pocket) the kids will take it and waste it. That's why I have: a packet of about 60 yellow straws, a pen, a pair of scissors, a packet of a balloons, A Nature Valley Oat and Honey granola bar, A Chex Mix Granola bar, and my ID.
I'm doing the sound unit with the rest of the kids today. I'd also like to do a Mythbusters-esque unit with the older kids, which we would start planning for today. We'll see how it goes. As usual.
Today we covered sound. I thought the best way to do this would be to make noise making things. However, since I'm still a young'n, a fresh-faced rather sophomoric teacher, I did not anticipate what sort of problem giving 90 kids noise making toys would create. And these weren't soft, clacking things. They were loud, roaring things.
One thing we made was a straw oboe. You cut the end of the straw off into an isosceles triangle, producing two triangular tabs, simulating an oboe reed. You blow on it, and it makes noise that sounds very much like what a bassoon reed alone sound like.
Pair this with another noise maker, and I was just asking for it. We made what's called a Screaming Cup (I should have been warned by the fact that it's called a Screaming Cup).
Ah, what a horrible cacophony today was. And some of the teachers weren't happy. But the kids had fun, I got paid, and no one died. And in all honesty, that's all that really matters.
Here's today's shirt pocket:
I'm doing the sound unit with the rest of the kids today. I'd also like to do a Mythbusters-esque unit with the older kids, which we would start planning for today. We'll see how it goes. As usual.
"So We Beat On...
...boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past" -The Great Gatsby, F. Scott Fitzgerald.
Although I don't approve of many of Mr. Fitzgerald's life choices (the same goes for his wife's. Read A Moveable Feast by Hemingway and you'll see why), he is a brilliant writer and I've often taken stuff from him.
So, 5 days left in this program. A little over a week. And then I'm free. But let's not get ahead of ourselves. Let us recap.
Tuesday we covered Electicity/Circuits.
Electricity:
Tuesday we did basics of circuit building namely: how do you make a light bulb light up with a bulb, a battery, and a single wire? I realize I'm pushing these kids beyond some of their limits, as I remember doing this experiment in 6th grade myself, though there's no point in teaching if I don't push their limits and expand their comfort circles.
An interesting thing about my day: As the day progresses, the children get progressively younger. I start with the oldest kids right after lunch, and end with the youngest ones. This is slightly problematic in that since I'm teaching the same material for each class, I have to scale the lesson appropriately. Starting with the oldest ones is easy, as I can generally explain the content as I understand it on a basic level. But I have a hard time gauging how much I have to simplify for the younger kids. For the older kids, I made an analogy that a circuit is like going to the market, where the market is the battery and the bulb is your home, and you need a car (electron) to carry the charge (food) along the road (wire) back to your home. To explain why you need to connect a second wire to the negative terminal, I told them it's like a one way street, and you can't just go back along the same wire. I thought this analogy would work well with the little ones, but I failed to take into account a few things. First, some little kids don't know what a battery is. The concept of a one-way street was also lost on them.
But the lesson went well overall. A lot of the kids burned themselves because they don't listen to directions. I spent a good 10 minutes going over what a short circuit was and why you should never make one. I explained that it would burn them. Yet, not 2 minutes after I finish explaining what not to do, I hear a "ouch". Which prompts the other kids to short their circuits just to see what it feels like. At the end, everyone was able to light their bulb, which is all I was looking for.
So I have Zachary Litman to thank for showing me the coolest thing I've seen in a long time. It's called a homopolar motor, and after taking much much physics over the years, I know why it works. But who cares, here's the one I made:
Although I don't approve of many of Mr. Fitzgerald's life choices (the same goes for his wife's. Read A Moveable Feast by Hemingway and you'll see why), he is a brilliant writer and I've often taken stuff from him.
So, 5 days left in this program. A little over a week. And then I'm free. But let's not get ahead of ourselves. Let us recap.
Tuesday we covered Electicity/Circuits.
Electricity:
Tuesday we did basics of circuit building namely: how do you make a light bulb light up with a bulb, a battery, and a single wire? I realize I'm pushing these kids beyond some of their limits, as I remember doing this experiment in 6th grade myself, though there's no point in teaching if I don't push their limits and expand their comfort circles.
An interesting thing about my day: As the day progresses, the children get progressively younger. I start with the oldest kids right after lunch, and end with the youngest ones. This is slightly problematic in that since I'm teaching the same material for each class, I have to scale the lesson appropriately. Starting with the oldest ones is easy, as I can generally explain the content as I understand it on a basic level. But I have a hard time gauging how much I have to simplify for the younger kids. For the older kids, I made an analogy that a circuit is like going to the market, where the market is the battery and the bulb is your home, and you need a car (electron) to carry the charge (food) along the road (wire) back to your home. To explain why you need to connect a second wire to the negative terminal, I told them it's like a one way street, and you can't just go back along the same wire. I thought this analogy would work well with the little ones, but I failed to take into account a few things. First, some little kids don't know what a battery is. The concept of a one-way street was also lost on them.
But the lesson went well overall. A lot of the kids burned themselves because they don't listen to directions. I spent a good 10 minutes going over what a short circuit was and why you should never make one. I explained that it would burn them. Yet, not 2 minutes after I finish explaining what not to do, I hear a "ouch". Which prompts the other kids to short their circuits just to see what it feels like. At the end, everyone was able to light their bulb, which is all I was looking for.
So I have Zachary Litman to thank for showing me the coolest thing I've seen in a long time. It's called a homopolar motor, and after taking much much physics over the years, I know why it works. But who cares, here's the one I made:
This is one of the few things that truly impressed me. Part of it is its simplicity, and part of it is how well it works. A neodymium magnet (I bought mine at Wal-mart. It was in the crafts section), a AA battery, and a loop of copper wire. I showed this to the kids and it blew their minds. I think one of the coolest details I noticed is that the wire must be copper wire. Why you might ask? Well, copper is diamagnetic (one of the many things I learned from the 2nd semester of PChem Lab. That, and how awesome lasers are), meaning there won't be any drag from its interaction with the magnets. I originally tried it with a paperclip loop, and it did not work at all. These little details fascinate me.
One thing that never fails to amuse me is that the little kids aren't always the ones that are most impressed by the experiments. A lot of the times, its the junior leaders who are the most thrilled to come to my class. All the junior leaders are High School students, but they act like little kids when they see some of the experiments. The homopolar motor was a big hit with a bunch of them. I also know one of the leaders, Jody, was fascinated by my inherited traits lesson. Who said only the little kids were there to learn?
Here's my shirt pocket from that day:
Be not fooled by this simple, unassuming shirt pocket. Like an iceberg, 8/9ths of the stuff is hidden below. In this shirt pocket, should you care to dig, you would have found: 7 AA batteries, 5 2,4V 0.2A light bulbs, a loop of copper wire, a pair of wire stripping pliers, and 8 neodymium button magnets, and a Nature Valley Oat and Honey Granola bar.
A note about the above shirt. This shirt is rather busy. But I don't really have a problem about it, since I don't usually care what I look like (since I can't really see myself unless I look in a mirror). But what is terribly embarrassing is going into Long's Drug Store and discovering that you are wearing the same shirt as the employees. What makes it worse is being asked where the Polydent is by little old ladies.
And the countdown begins.
One thing that never fails to amuse me is that the little kids aren't always the ones that are most impressed by the experiments. A lot of the times, its the junior leaders who are the most thrilled to come to my class. All the junior leaders are High School students, but they act like little kids when they see some of the experiments. The homopolar motor was a big hit with a bunch of them. I also know one of the leaders, Jody, was fascinated by my inherited traits lesson. Who said only the little kids were there to learn?
Here's my shirt pocket from that day:
A note about the above shirt. This shirt is rather busy. But I don't really have a problem about it, since I don't usually care what I look like (since I can't really see myself unless I look in a mirror). But what is terribly embarrassing is going into Long's Drug Store and discovering that you are wearing the same shirt as the employees. What makes it worse is being asked where the Polydent is by little old ladies.
And the countdown begins.
Wednesday, July 07, 2010
A Long One, Filled With Much Introspection
After a much needed three day weekend, I'm coming to terms with the fact that there are only 8 more days left in this program. Sorry, scratch that. I'm overjoyed that there are only 8 more days left in this program. Sure I'll miss teaching their sweaty little, tear-streaked faces, but such thoughts are saved for a retrospective evaluation a month down the road. For now, we must continue teaching.
These three days has given me time for a rare activity these days: thinking. I'd have never thought I'd have to budget my time for thinking, but such is the case of this modern work-a-day lifestyle. Let us begin.
Throughout my life, noticeably in high school, I've been a dabbler. A Renaissance man. A Jack of all Trades, but a Master of None. The latter part of the final idiom had never really bothered me until I got to college. I had always thought that my versatility, and the breadth of my experiences was what had gotten me into Yale. But as I began to interact with my fellows, and more importantly, take classes and tests, my opinion began to turn. I began to see that my dabbling had denied me extensive depth in any one subject. My first rather rude awakening to this fact was taking Perspectives on Science (and Engineering, since engineers are second class citizens. Freshman Orgo also provided a bit of a shock, but that's a whole 'nother story). I had always enjoyed science, though I had never really pursued it in an extracurricular manner. I went to class, got my A, and that was the extent of my science exposure. Meanwhile, I would fill my time auditioning for plays, playing in bands, reading whatever I could find and MOCK COMBAT! with my Military History Club (Offically called the Reenactors' and Military Historians' Society, or ReMiHS, but it's quite a mouthful):
(I'm the tall white guy in the back).
But it never even crossed my mind to explore science beyond class. I do realize the irony of who I am now and what I'm doing with my life, but there's time to remark on the peculiarity of my life later. Coming into Perspectives on Science (a program I only got in off the waitlist. I was actually deciding between Directed Studies and Perspectives, but after the DS registration passed, I figured the decision was made for me) armed with a motley assortment of AP Chem and Physics knowledge, I was vastly overwhelmed. And it showed in a rather unseemly way.
I came to reflect upon my predicament as I've been fond of doing in such times. I decided that I would commit myself wholly unto Science, as my selection of courses had unwittingly steered myself that way. Music was my one concession, my one exception to this rule, as I don't like quitting things, like Concert Band, and figured I might as well just keep playing.
I bring this up because I recent went back and reread Plato's The Republic, inspired by all this Mr. Devlin talk. One of the big, over arching points Plato/Socrates makes is about specialization. Every man has an arete, sort of like a life purpose, very similar to the concept of dharma in Hinduism. Some people's arete demands they become politicians, others demand they become garbage men. There was no shame in being a garbage man, as long as that's what you were meant to do. But one thing that Plato/Socrates makes clear is that multi-tasking, and despecializing was a bad thing. Would you rather go to the man who is solely committed to being a doctor, or the one who's a doctor half the time, and a used car salesman the other half of the time?
When I first came across this in high school, I found this rather distressing, and a little perplexing. I had devoted my life in a way quite orthogonal to this notion of arete. And upon arriving in college, it appeared that specialization was the way to go.
This 4th of July weekend, I visited the Farmer's Market at Kapiolani Community College, a haven for such specialists. Some stalls only sold jars of honey, others only sold tomatoes. And the food was amazing. Sure they only sold one type of produce, but the tomatoes were some of the best I've ever tasted. I also visited an orchid breeder, and bought a little friend:
His name, I'm told, is "Nobby". The tag reads that it's across between what sounds like racehorses: Be Glad x Mahogany Leopard = P. Nobby's Little Candy. But I digress.
And for a while this specialization in science thing has worked. My grades have been slowly but surely improving, and I've carved a cozy niche amongst my scientist friends, whom I cherish in a way I never thought I would. But since this is a story, there has to be some conflict, rising action and the rest.
I first became acutely aware of it at the end of the summer of 2009, after serving my time in New Haven doing membrane research with an Environmental Engineering lab. In this lab, I spent 9 hour work days reading papers, making, testing and improving membranes for osmotic processes. Very specialized.
But I was understimulated, and deeply dissatisfied with my life. I loved my research, thought it was genuinely exciting and interesting. But it was incessant. My day to day life lacked a natural rhythm to break up the monotony. This atonal existence was not working. I deeply missed doing non-science things. I missed singing and acting. I missed spending hours in the kitchen baking and trying to get out of washing my dishes. I missed watching hours and hours of Band of Brothers, getting lost in the story telling and the drama of WWII.
And now that I'm beginning to ramble (and become self-aware. OOOOHHH.), I'll come to my conclusion. I've realized can't be a specialist. Socrates would hate my existence.
But I can't help being a Jack of all Trades, dabbling a little bit in every creative medium, academic discipline, and hobby circle. I'm still bothered by the Master of None bit, but I'm learning to live with it (in the same way that I've come to accept I actually have to study for tests now that I'm in college, and that even if I work my ass off, I'll still come out slightly below average). And I'm finding others out there like me. Those people who told me that you'd have to pick one thing and stick with it at Yale were wrong. I went to Yale because I couldn't just pick one. And there are hundreds other like me, fellow dabblers.
And as I approach the inevitable end of my run as "Mr. Science", I'm searching for something to fill the rest of my summer with. My first instinct was to find something science-y to do, like breed orchids (which sounds really fun), or learn programming. And I'll probably end up doing something like that either way. But I need to balance it out with something completely unrelated. So far, I've had the wit to balance my science teaching with a late night hobby (not pr0n): music. Composing, playing and recording a crappy collection of things that catch my ear has in part saved my sanity from the horrors of this job. And to those of you who facilitated such a distraction, I thank you from the bottom of my heart.
So, my fellow dabblers of the world: I may have strayed from the path, forgotten who I am, and lost my way. I may have forgotten how to keep myself happy. I may have forgotten everything I learned from Emerson, Thoreau, and Whitman. I may have affected a persona I was never meant to assume. But I'm back. And baby, it's going to be good. Real good.
These three days has given me time for a rare activity these days: thinking. I'd have never thought I'd have to budget my time for thinking, but such is the case of this modern work-a-day lifestyle. Let us begin.
Throughout my life, noticeably in high school, I've been a dabbler. A Renaissance man. A Jack of all Trades, but a Master of None. The latter part of the final idiom had never really bothered me until I got to college. I had always thought that my versatility, and the breadth of my experiences was what had gotten me into Yale. But as I began to interact with my fellows, and more importantly, take classes and tests, my opinion began to turn. I began to see that my dabbling had denied me extensive depth in any one subject. My first rather rude awakening to this fact was taking Perspectives on Science (and Engineering, since engineers are second class citizens. Freshman Orgo also provided a bit of a shock, but that's a whole 'nother story). I had always enjoyed science, though I had never really pursued it in an extracurricular manner. I went to class, got my A, and that was the extent of my science exposure. Meanwhile, I would fill my time auditioning for plays, playing in bands, reading whatever I could find and MOCK COMBAT! with my Military History Club (Offically called the Reenactors' and Military Historians' Society, or ReMiHS, but it's quite a mouthful):
But it never even crossed my mind to explore science beyond class. I do realize the irony of who I am now and what I'm doing with my life, but there's time to remark on the peculiarity of my life later. Coming into Perspectives on Science (a program I only got in off the waitlist. I was actually deciding between Directed Studies and Perspectives, but after the DS registration passed, I figured the decision was made for me) armed with a motley assortment of AP Chem and Physics knowledge, I was vastly overwhelmed. And it showed in a rather unseemly way.
I came to reflect upon my predicament as I've been fond of doing in such times. I decided that I would commit myself wholly unto Science, as my selection of courses had unwittingly steered myself that way. Music was my one concession, my one exception to this rule, as I don't like quitting things, like Concert Band, and figured I might as well just keep playing.
I bring this up because I recent went back and reread Plato's The Republic, inspired by all this Mr. Devlin talk. One of the big, over arching points Plato/Socrates makes is about specialization. Every man has an arete, sort of like a life purpose, very similar to the concept of dharma in Hinduism. Some people's arete demands they become politicians, others demand they become garbage men. There was no shame in being a garbage man, as long as that's what you were meant to do. But one thing that Plato/Socrates makes clear is that multi-tasking, and despecializing was a bad thing. Would you rather go to the man who is solely committed to being a doctor, or the one who's a doctor half the time, and a used car salesman the other half of the time?
When I first came across this in high school, I found this rather distressing, and a little perplexing. I had devoted my life in a way quite orthogonal to this notion of arete. And upon arriving in college, it appeared that specialization was the way to go.
This 4th of July weekend, I visited the Farmer's Market at Kapiolani Community College, a haven for such specialists. Some stalls only sold jars of honey, others only sold tomatoes. And the food was amazing. Sure they only sold one type of produce, but the tomatoes were some of the best I've ever tasted. I also visited an orchid breeder, and bought a little friend:
And for a while this specialization in science thing has worked. My grades have been slowly but surely improving, and I've carved a cozy niche amongst my scientist friends, whom I cherish in a way I never thought I would. But since this is a story, there has to be some conflict, rising action and the rest.
I first became acutely aware of it at the end of the summer of 2009, after serving my time in New Haven doing membrane research with an Environmental Engineering lab. In this lab, I spent 9 hour work days reading papers, making, testing and improving membranes for osmotic processes. Very specialized.
But I was understimulated, and deeply dissatisfied with my life. I loved my research, thought it was genuinely exciting and interesting. But it was incessant. My day to day life lacked a natural rhythm to break up the monotony. This atonal existence was not working. I deeply missed doing non-science things. I missed singing and acting. I missed spending hours in the kitchen baking and trying to get out of washing my dishes. I missed watching hours and hours of Band of Brothers, getting lost in the story telling and the drama of WWII.
And now that I'm beginning to ramble (and become self-aware. OOOOHHH.), I'll come to my conclusion. I've realized can't be a specialist. Socrates would hate my existence.
But I can't help being a Jack of all Trades, dabbling a little bit in every creative medium, academic discipline, and hobby circle. I'm still bothered by the Master of None bit, but I'm learning to live with it (in the same way that I've come to accept I actually have to study for tests now that I'm in college, and that even if I work my ass off, I'll still come out slightly below average). And I'm finding others out there like me. Those people who told me that you'd have to pick one thing and stick with it at Yale were wrong. I went to Yale because I couldn't just pick one. And there are hundreds other like me, fellow dabblers.
And as I approach the inevitable end of my run as "Mr. Science", I'm searching for something to fill the rest of my summer with. My first instinct was to find something science-y to do, like breed orchids (which sounds really fun), or learn programming. And I'll probably end up doing something like that either way. But I need to balance it out with something completely unrelated. So far, I've had the wit to balance my science teaching with a late night hobby (not pr0n): music. Composing, playing and recording a crappy collection of things that catch my ear has in part saved my sanity from the horrors of this job. And to those of you who facilitated such a distraction, I thank you from the bottom of my heart.
So, my fellow dabblers of the world: I may have strayed from the path, forgotten who I am, and lost my way. I may have forgotten how to keep myself happy. I may have forgotten everything I learned from Emerson, Thoreau, and Whitman. I may have affected a persona I was never meant to assume. But I'm back. And baby, it's going to be good. Real good.
Saturday, July 03, 2010
Hamlet, Act I, Scene iv, 87-91
There was something terribly wrong about today. It started as a trace feeling felt on the fringes of my subconscious and slowly crawled it's way into the forefront of my mind. But still, I could not pinpoint the source of this discomfort, this aberration from the State of Nature. Yes, even the fuzzy woodland creatures that scamper across the telephone lines and glide ever so precariously through the urban canopy could tell something was off kilter. But the source of this abnormality eluded me.
Then I looked down.
And saw these:
Shoes.
Shoes and Socks.
A horrid combination to be sure, the very antithesis of my island lifestyle. So confining, so restrictive. A hot, stuffy prison designed to coddle our once proud, strong, and functional feet, leaving soft, tender, fleshy bags sewn to the bottom of our legs.
But that's not it, my friends. Even with the discovery of this oddity, I could still sense a peculiarity, something that didn't sit right with me.
I felt it in my gut. No, not my gut, that's not quite right. It was more of a burning in my chest. A lingering, wanton fire, smoldering just left of center (where most people mistakenly think their heart is). I'd imagine it's the same feeling that headless chickens, or cockroaches must feel at the moment of decapitation. A distinct sense of loss, longing, and separation.
I looked in the mirror and noticed something terribly wrong:
No shirt pocket. No collar. No lapel. No buttons. A T-shirt.
An explanation to my slovenly, dejected and defeated dress? Field Trip.
The morning teachers arranged for a field trip into Chinatown for a walking tour (quick note. The tour organization, the Chinese Heritage something something, is run by my relatives, a collection of Aunts and Cousins. Considering my entire family is Japanese, this is rather confusing. But, cross-culturalism is always a good thing. But still, really?). And as a good teacher, employee, and son, I volunteered to help chaperon one of the groups, since I was the only one available on the payroll and able to legally be in charge of a group.
I love walking around Chinatown. Sure, it's dirty and kind of dangerous to wander around, but the food is fantastic and dirt cheap. Look fun noodles for less than a dollar a roll. Ma Tai Su, Pork Hash, and Manapua all for a few cents a piece. Needless to say, I had a very good lunch that day.
One of the most interesting things I noted with some delight was the transliteration of Hawaiian street names into Mandarin (which most Chinese in Hawaii don't speak, since most came from Guangdong a generation or two ago, and therefore speak Cantonese).
Here we have North Pauahi Street (named after Bernice Pauahi Bishop, part of the old Hawaiian royalty, and a Philanthropist who threw a lot of money into education.) The transliteration reads: Pu3Wa2Xi1Jie1(Bei3).
Also:
Here we have Mauna Kea St (most likely named after one of the 5 volcanoes that make up the island of Hawaii {the Big Island, as it is called}. The other 4 are: Mauna Loa, Kohala, Hualalai, Kilauea). The translation reads: Mo2Na4Gei1Ya1Jie1.
Aside from one heat induced bloody nose in one of my kids, the day went rather well. No one got lost, no one got hurt. No broken merchandise had to be paid for. Many samples were had.
I also found a candy I haven't had in a long time. I technically started learning Chinese in 3rd grade, when Mr. Wong (Huang2 Lao3shi1) would come once a week and teach us language and cultural things. He was pretty cheap (pake {pah-KAY), as locals call it), and so would reward us with virtual prizes (pieces of paper with pictures of cake, candy, and cookies on it) I suppose we were meant to collect. But on the rare occasion he would actually give us something material, he would reward us with Haw Flakes:
Not a roll of Haw Flakes, but a single wafer (think Chinese Neco Wafers). Regardless, I used to love them, though people's opinions differ greatly on the matter. The characters read Shan1Zha1Bing3, which translates to Hawthorne Berry Cakes.
This field trip was also one of my proudest moments as a teacher. We were waiting by the canal for the bus to come, and one of my students runs up to me and tells me: "Mr. Sakimoto! Come here! Look! It's a crab and it's camouflaging! Look! It's the same color as the rock, so it's hard to see! Camouflage!" Terribly, terribly proud.
After an amazing lunch back at school (Char Hung Sut, amazing Ma Tai Su, so-so manapua(cha1shao1bao1, for you Mainland types)), I was very full and very sleepy. But I had to actually start teaching, so no time for a nap.
Today we covered inherited traits, through the guise of a bingo game. I gave them a lot, but some of the more interesting ones include:
-Hitchhiker's thumb
-Widow's peak
-When you clasp your hands, which thumb is on top, right or left?
-Same for crossing arms
-Is your 2nd toe longer than your big toe
-Hair color
-Eye color
-Can you do the Vulcan sign?
-Tongue rolling (which I've read actually has no genetic basis. Oh, well)
-Which is taller, your pointer or ring finger?
So here's the thing about the last one on that list. I can easily tell that my ring finger is longer than my pointer finger. And both hands are the same way. But apparently determining such things are not easy for everybody. One of my kids had the pointer longer on one hand, and the ring finger longer on the other hand.
And some people have freakish hands altogether. One of my students, M-----, came up to me, and told me she had both (or neither) taller. I didn't believe her and asked her to show me. If she held her hand with palm away from her, her ring finger was taller:
But if she rotated her palm towards her, it switched:
Her pointer was now longer than her ring finger! This blew my mind. I must have asked her to show me a dozen times. Pretty awesome, as evidenced by the amused looks on my students' faces. But still very perplexing, as evidenced by my sister's confuzzled look in the back. I'd have to guess that it has something to do with how your musculature and tendons are interconnected, and turning your wrist/elbow tugs and pushes your fingers forward and back. Made my day.
Three day weekend, since it would be a shame to waste such a fun holiday as 4th of July on a weekend. I've been tinkering around with an electronics kit I got as a kid, since we'll be covering electricity, circuits, and magnetism next week. This kit is pretty sweet, now that I'm older, have taken physics classes, and know what all these things are. Aside from a motley assortment of capacitors, resistors, LED's, bulbs, transistors, diodes, photovoltaic cells, and transformers, it also comes with a reed switch, which I'm going to have a lot of fun with. After PChem Lab and Physics with Shankar, I think I can make some pretty nifty circuits. Hopefully.
Then I looked down.
And saw these:
Shoes.
Shoes and Socks.
A horrid combination to be sure, the very antithesis of my island lifestyle. So confining, so restrictive. A hot, stuffy prison designed to coddle our once proud, strong, and functional feet, leaving soft, tender, fleshy bags sewn to the bottom of our legs.
But that's not it, my friends. Even with the discovery of this oddity, I could still sense a peculiarity, something that didn't sit right with me.
I felt it in my gut. No, not my gut, that's not quite right. It was more of a burning in my chest. A lingering, wanton fire, smoldering just left of center (where most people mistakenly think their heart is). I'd imagine it's the same feeling that headless chickens, or cockroaches must feel at the moment of decapitation. A distinct sense of loss, longing, and separation.
I looked in the mirror and noticed something terribly wrong:
No shirt pocket. No collar. No lapel. No buttons. A T-shirt.
An explanation to my slovenly, dejected and defeated dress? Field Trip.
The morning teachers arranged for a field trip into Chinatown for a walking tour (quick note. The tour organization, the Chinese Heritage something something, is run by my relatives, a collection of Aunts and Cousins. Considering my entire family is Japanese, this is rather confusing. But, cross-culturalism is always a good thing. But still, really?). And as a good teacher, employee, and son, I volunteered to help chaperon one of the groups, since I was the only one available on the payroll and able to legally be in charge of a group.
I love walking around Chinatown. Sure, it's dirty and kind of dangerous to wander around, but the food is fantastic and dirt cheap. Look fun noodles for less than a dollar a roll. Ma Tai Su, Pork Hash, and Manapua all for a few cents a piece. Needless to say, I had a very good lunch that day.
One of the most interesting things I noted with some delight was the transliteration of Hawaiian street names into Mandarin (which most Chinese in Hawaii don't speak, since most came from Guangdong a generation or two ago, and therefore speak Cantonese).
Also:
Aside from one heat induced bloody nose in one of my kids, the day went rather well. No one got lost, no one got hurt. No broken merchandise had to be paid for. Many samples were had.
I also found a candy I haven't had in a long time. I technically started learning Chinese in 3rd grade, when Mr. Wong (Huang2 Lao3shi1) would come once a week and teach us language and cultural things. He was pretty cheap (pake {pah-KAY), as locals call it), and so would reward us with virtual prizes (pieces of paper with pictures of cake, candy, and cookies on it) I suppose we were meant to collect. But on the rare occasion he would actually give us something material, he would reward us with Haw Flakes:
This field trip was also one of my proudest moments as a teacher. We were waiting by the canal for the bus to come, and one of my students runs up to me and tells me: "Mr. Sakimoto! Come here! Look! It's a crab and it's camouflaging! Look! It's the same color as the rock, so it's hard to see! Camouflage!" Terribly, terribly proud.
After an amazing lunch back at school (Char Hung Sut, amazing Ma Tai Su, so-so manapua(cha1shao1bao1, for you Mainland types)), I was very full and very sleepy. But I had to actually start teaching, so no time for a nap.
Today we covered inherited traits, through the guise of a bingo game. I gave them a lot, but some of the more interesting ones include:
-Hitchhiker's thumb
-Widow's peak
-When you clasp your hands, which thumb is on top, right or left?
-Same for crossing arms
-Is your 2nd toe longer than your big toe
-Hair color
-Eye color
-Can you do the Vulcan sign?
-Tongue rolling (which I've read actually has no genetic basis. Oh, well)
-Which is taller, your pointer or ring finger?
So here's the thing about the last one on that list. I can easily tell that my ring finger is longer than my pointer finger. And both hands are the same way. But apparently determining such things are not easy for everybody. One of my kids had the pointer longer on one hand, and the ring finger longer on the other hand.
And some people have freakish hands altogether. One of my students, M-----, came up to me, and told me she had both (or neither) taller. I didn't believe her and asked her to show me. If she held her hand with palm away from her, her ring finger was taller:
But if she rotated her palm towards her, it switched:
Three day weekend, since it would be a shame to waste such a fun holiday as 4th of July on a weekend. I've been tinkering around with an electronics kit I got as a kid, since we'll be covering electricity, circuits, and magnetism next week. This kit is pretty sweet, now that I'm older, have taken physics classes, and know what all these things are. Aside from a motley assortment of capacitors, resistors, LED's, bulbs, transistors, diodes, photovoltaic cells, and transformers, it also comes with a reed switch, which I'm going to have a lot of fun with. After PChem Lab and Physics with Shankar, I think I can make some pretty nifty circuits. Hopefully.
Winner Winner Chicken Dinner
And we have a winner for Baby Bunsen Burners' 2nd Contest!
Congratulations to recruiter Anthony Hsu, and the recruitee, Andy Tien.
As per the contest, both will receive a special Science related prize, most likely from Think Geek, which has many awesome things.
What I need from the contest winners is for you to email me* your shipping addresses so that I can send you your prize. Since I know people are all over the place this summer, send me whatever address you'll be at for the next two weeks or so, or else you may never get it.
Also, once you get your prize, if you could take a picture of yourself enjoying your prize, I would like to post it on the blog. Thanks.
*There's a Send Message feature through my blogger profile. Try use this.
Congratulations to recruiter Anthony Hsu, and the recruitee, Andy Tien.
As per the contest, both will receive a special Science related prize, most likely from Think Geek, which has many awesome things.
What I need from the contest winners is for you to email me* your shipping addresses so that I can send you your prize. Since I know people are all over the place this summer, send me whatever address you'll be at for the next two weeks or so, or else you may never get it.
Also, once you get your prize, if you could take a picture of yourself enjoying your prize, I would like to post it on the blog. Thanks.
*There's a Send Message feature through my blogger profile. Try use this.
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