Instructional Indignancies

Recently I gave my students an exam. The students had spent all semester next to the same people, with whom they likely studied. So, the first thing I did for the exam was rearrange the classroom. I didn’t want people to be comfortable enough to cheat. I also encouraged students to spread out a little bit. Several seats were available in the back of the room.

Three students arrived late. I handed the first one a test and told him to sit in the front because one large gap was available there. I then handed tests to the other two and told them to go to the back of the classroom.

I Hate Mondays

And I owe a debt of gratitude to Jim Davis’ Garfield.

Monday, just over a week ago, I had a series of unfortunate and horrific events. They all started Monday morning when I went to work and forgot to take my benefits documentation with me.

I started a new job at the beginning of last month. As with most companies, they gave me about 30 days to make a decision with regard to my opt-in benefits. However, my wife and I have been incredibly busy this last month. We had not taken any time to consider our options, and, despite an email reminder the Friday before, I forgot to look at the documentation over the weekend and bring it to work Monday morning.

Mini Mort

My earliest mortifying moment came when I was quite young. In fact, I don’t remember the experience, but my mother is rather fond of the retelling of it…

My parents met inside a computer. My dad was tutored Fortran. Three years later, after their marriage and my birth, they still worked in that computer—yes, literally, inside the computer. (And no, this is not a Zoolander reference.)

Back in those days, computers filled entire rooms—rooms that were equipped with false floors in addition to the standard false, tiled ceilings. The floor was tiled to allow workers to get under the computer and fix wiring problems. The tiles had holes in them so that the room’s dedicated air conditioners could pump cool air in through the floor to keep the computer from overheating. The sheer volume of heat that these machines generated required a tremendous cooling capacity, and the consequent flow of cool air generated a lot of noise.

Descriptor Disaster

I have a new job teaching. I get to interact with students and help them learn new topics and ways of thinking. I love it.

Yesterday in class, I held a small discussion on how to design alarm clocks. I was trying to help the students learn how to identify the difference between requirements (what results are needed) and specifications (particular approaches to gain the results).

As part of this discussion, we talked about how the alarm clock needs to wake a person up. This is a requirement. A buzzer, on the other hand, is a specification. Other ways of waking a user up might include a radio, blinking lights, MP3 player, or throwing water on someone.

In the process of generating ideas about potential approaches to waking people up, a student piped up “it could shake the bed.” Great idea! Not wanting to spend much time writing so we could continue to discuss options, I turned around at the whiteboard and wrote a succinct summary:

Kidney Calamity

I hate being a burden to other people and interrupting their daily routines. I regularly feel like a fifth wheel in social situations. I rarely try and spontaneously start a social event because that would mean getting other people to conform to my schedule. And I do not like asking for help unless I absolutely must.

A number of years ago I was preparing to serve a embark on a great journey to Thailand. I had been planning this for months, and was going to be gone for about 2 years.

I was stoked.

Ticking Clocks

My wife and I are exhausted. We work long days and weeks, and we often do not get the requisite hours of sleep.

Last Saturday, she had an teaching appointment at 8 a.m.—30 students all wanting to learn at her feet. On Friday night, we set the alarm to wake us up at a quarter to 7 so that we had plenty of time to get to work.

The alarm sounded, as anticipated. We both got up and did our morning routines, groggy as usual from inadequate rest. I helped get all our stuff into the car so I could drive her to campus and so I could work in the lab for a few hours until she finished.

Moonshine Missteps

October 11, 2010. Evening. I was running a few minutes late, briskly walking down the sidewalk to a nearby building where my beautiful wife was waiting for me so we could carpool home.

While striding down the street, I caught a glimpse of a guy hopping out of the brushes and onto the sidewalk. He then stared off into the distance at what I thought was a car. Then he pointed, with a big grin, and said, “Did you see the eclipse? It’s awesome!”

I blinked, turned, noticed the moon, and said, “No it isn’t.” Richard, you killjoy.