“Interning” as a teaching assistant

Let me throw out a (ahem) hypothetical situation. . .

Say (again, just for the sake of this entirely hypothetical situation) that this week I took over the department’s internship program.  Pretend I have the power to approve or reject any internship that would earn a student academic credit from the history department.

Say a Master’s student contacts me and says she wants to “do an internship in” a colleague’s large-enrollment class.  By which she means basically be a TA, do grading, etc.  (We don’t have Ph.D. students, nor do we have standard TAships; grad students pretty much just work as readers/graders in my department, and we only have a handful of those positions each year.)

The student would not, I imagine, be paid for this “internship.”  In fact, she’d be paying for the internship credits.

My questions:

  • Should students “pay to play” as TAs?*
  • What does the willingness of both professor and student to set up this “internship” say about the present and future of our department, especially considering many prospective grad students already turn us down for schools with better offers?
  • Is this really a history internship?  That is–is this historical practice?  Would such an internship be better run through the education department? If so, should we be letting other departments oversee internships in our classrooms?
  • Should an M.A. student earn graduate-level academic credit for grading papers?
  • If the student has done this same “internship” before, should the student be able to repeat it for academic credit?
  • If it came out that this internship-supervising professor is on the student’s thesis committee, and has done this before, and has worked this same student way beyond the internship’s allotted hours, what would you do when the student contacted you for internship approval?  (Remember–you’re a very junior professor.  Imagine, too, that you’ve talked with other colleagues about this, and they’re divided about this internship’s appropriateness.)
  • What if, hypothetically speaking, it emerged that these large-enrollment classes supported by “interning” TAs allowed all the tenure-line folks in the department to teach fewer classes each year?  Would that affect how you approached your colleagues, if you were going to do so?

Your (hypothetical) thoughts?

 

*I think you know my answer to this question. After all, I received medical and dental insurance, tuition/fee remission, and a salary as a TA at both institutions where I was a graduate student.  Still, I’d like to hear your opinion.

When difficult letters become easy

It may not always be apparent from this blog, but when I put my mind and heart to it, I can write quite well.  I usually overcome writer’s block pretty quickly, too.

But not this time.

I’ve been trying for months to write a letter to my grandmother because I want to thank her for everything she’s done for me.  (I did tell her last time I saw her how grateful I am for her love and support, but I wanted to put something in writing so that she can refer to it when she’s feeling down.)  I wrote countless drafts of this letter but never sent one.

Until tonight.  I learned that she has very little time left—days or weeks—and that she’s so weak that she can’t sit up to read, and probably can’t even hold a letter. She isn’t taking phone calls. I asked my mom if she would read something aloud to her, and Mom agreed.

So I had to keep it short. I was amazed, really, that when it really counted, I was able to finish the note.  I’m pretty satisfied with it for now, but doubtless in a few weeks I’ll think of something else I should have said.

The letter is just over one page, and it comprises paragraphs of gratitude and bullet points of happy memories.

As I wrote the letter, I realized a couple of things.

I wrote to her,

I have pinned up on my bulletin board at work the photo of you that was printed in the newspaper—the one where you’re emptying sand from your shoes. It makes me smile every day. I wish I could have known you then as well as now; how fun it would have been to be young together!

And I do wish such a thing. Over the past decade, Grandma has been telling me she’s been seeing long-dead friends and relatives in her dreams, and that while she finds the experience a bit unsettling, she enjoys spending time with them again. I hope I get dream visitations not only from Grandma as I know and knew her, but from young Dorothy as well.  She looks fun, no?

The other thing I realized is that I need to get back to reading poetry regularly again, as of course even lines I thought I knew well shift and deepen as I age.  I was looking for some scrap of poetry that spoke to the way I feel, and I found it in Walt Whitman’s “Crossing Brooklyn Ferry.”  I included these lines from it in my letter to my grandmother.  She’s taken to praying lately—even though I never knew her to be a religious person—so I hope she finds in them some little bit of happy eternity, some understanding that she has had an enduring influence on me.

We use you, and do not cast you aside—we plant you permanently within us;
We fathom you not—we love you—there is perfection in you also;
You furnish your parts toward eternity;
Great or small, you furnish your parts toward the soul.

Whatever you believe, I’d appreciate it if you’d send some kind thoughts in her direction.  She could use some relief, some peace.

Grandma and her most recent great-granddaughter, a few months back.

Love this

Regular readers know I’m not a big fan of shows of patriotism and that I’m uneasy about certain kinds of Christianity in public contexts, but I found this really touching:

 

On Lecture Capture

This past week I received an e-mail alerting me that, because I teach in a particular classroom, I can have access to lecture capture this fall.  The e-mail, from the campus’s tech folks, reported that of students with access to this technology, 70 percent watched at least one capture per week, and 78 percent of students said they would like more classes to use lecture capture.  The lectures get posted to iTunesU and also to Blackboard.

Those of you who know me well know that I have been an evangelist for the use of certain kinds of technology in higher ed–particularly blogs, wikis, c0llaborative mapping, and certain uses of mobile devices–but I’m deeply uneasy with lecture capture technology because I think it’s a step backward from the best uses of technology for instruction.*

Lecturing and lecture capture are by their nature unidirectional. Yes, both lecturing and lecture capture could be made interactive–lecturing by peppering the class period with questions and activities, and lecture capture by adding some kind of commenting or discussion function wherever the audio and video are posted.  I have yet to see anyone use institutionally sponsored lecture capture in this way.

The lectures can be shared most easily within corporate repositories–Blackboard and iTunesU–rather than to open-source, not-for-profit educational repositories.  Yes, iTunesU has some fabulous stuff on it, but I’m not ready to share there.

It’s also too easy for the university to repurpose content in online courses that could be adjunctified. I’m not sure what the policy is at my current institution, but I signed away a lot of intellectual property rights at my last one.  In an age where people seem to think that education is just a matter of “delivering content” that translates into mad workplace skillz, I’m uneasy about providing the university with any multimedia content that could be aggregated into a enormous-enrollment course taught by a grossly underpaid and underinsured Ph.D.

There also may be a misunderstanding or miscommunication on the part of tech folks and their student workers that faculty should be driving this bus. A colleague was teaching in a classroom where a student was in charge of running the technology. She was going to review answers to a quiz they had taken in class, and she asked the student worker to turn off the lecture capture for that time period.  The student refused, saying she’d need to check with her boss.  Because the lectures can be posted automatically, the instructor wasn’t certain she’d have the opportunity to edit out that portion of the class (nor should she have to, I might add–the lecture capture should be at the instructor’s request).

There definitely was a gap in understanding between me and the technologist with whom I communicated about lecture capture. I asked if the system could capture students’ portions of class discussion, and I was told that the system captures only the instructor’s audio, and thus–and I’m quoting here–“we train faculty to REPEAT all questions before answering them, so that they are on the capture.”

This assumes, of course, that students–and not instructors–are asking the majority of the questions.  (It also assumes instructors can be “trained,” which made me LOL, since one of my previous job titles–one I don’t think I’ve ever admitted to–was actually “faculty technology trainer” and even then I knew going in that faculty are not easily housebroken.  This faculty member, I assure you, does not sit. lie down. roll over.)

Lecture capture is about delivering content

I do understand the utility of lecture capture.  As faculty are asked to teach increasingly larger courses, lecturing seems more “natural”–because how could one have a live conversation with 200+ students? (Trust me–it can be done!)  As more courses offer online sections, it’s efficient for faculty members to repurpose in-class lectures for their online students–and it ensures all students receive the same content.

But again, this entire form of course presentation is predicated on a belief that higher education is about acquiring content knowledge and not about encouraging critical or creative thinking.  See, in my Women and the West course I could in a lecture repeat and reinforce what my students have already read in some textbook about 19th-century women’s contributions to, for example, early business development in California (they ran boardinghouses during the Gold Rush–surprise!)–and then test students on that knowledge. . .

What were the three most common forms of women’s entrepreneurship in mid-nineteenth-century California?

. . .Or I could provide them with primary-source materials by, say, Theodosia Burr Shepherd and her daughter Myrtle Shepherd Francis–pioneers of horticultural entrepreneurship in California and cultivators of plants that students likely have growing in their neighbors’ yards or have seen at Home Depot**–and ask them larger historiographical questions.

  • Why might women have been early pioneers of California’s floricultural and horticultural industries?
  • What challenges do you think faced women entrepreneurs between 1865 and 1900?
  • Why, in “The Woman in Floral Culture,” does Shepherd suggest women’s clothing is the greatest encumbrance to their entrepreneurial success in floriculture? Based on your knowledge of the era, do you concur? Why or why not?
  • Why might have nineteenth-century California provided more fertile ground for women entrepreneurs (and scientists!) than states east of the Mississippi?
  • Why are early women entrepreneurs not better represented in today’s history textbooks, especially considering we live in an era that celebrates the entrepreneurial spirit?

The answers to those kinds of questions are unlikely to be cleanly and clearly articulated, either by me or by my students.  And lecture capture is, it seems, all about decisive articulation of disciplinary facts.  (And I so do not do disciplinary facts.)

Lecture capture wish list

I do occasionally “lecture” in five- to seven-minute chunks that students might find useful to revisit.  So. . . What would have to be in place for me to use lecture capture?  (Maybe some of these options exist, but I’m sure others do not.)

1.) Ways to record multiple, simultaneous small-group discussion by students–and a simple way for me to provide some kind of feedback on those discussions, perhaps using video or audio.  (The name of the lecture capture system–Echo360–would imply that technology exists to capture and play back all audio in the classroom, yes? Alas, not yet.)

2.) Ways to annotate the classroom-generated audio and video with text, so that if I wanted to share a link related to a certain moment in the video, I could.

3.) Fully accessible–the software should generate an automatic transcript that I can edit when I find transcription errors.

4.) Video and audio must be fully, and easily, editable by me.

5.) A setting that ensures only I, and no one else, can upload the videos.

6.) A choice of how open I’d like to make the videos–that is, I’d like to make them easy to upload to YouTube so that I can embed them on a (publicly accessible) class blog.  Other instructors would likely prefer Blackboard, but since I only use Blackboard to calculate grades (and I hope to use Excel for that in the future, but I’m innumerate, so I rely on an LMS) and share an occasional document, I don’t want any of my content uploaded to Blackboard.

What about you?

Have you found a satisfactory way to use lecture capture–one that is more about achieving your desired learning objectives rather than student convenience and efficiency of content delivery?  I’d love to hear about it. . .

* Granted, my unease with lecture capture is rooted in a deep distrust of lecturing as a teaching tool.  A select few do it well, and a select few students learn best from lectures–but after working as a teaching consultant for a few years, I observed that most people don’t lecture well, and most students retain next to nothing from the average lecture.

** Doubled, fluted, frilled, ruffled, and pinked petunias! Blue morning glory (Ipomoea ‘Heavenly Blue’)!  Eschscholzia californica ‘Golden West’!

Becoming active

Photo by Richard Yuan, and used under a Creative Commons license

I joined the student rec center yesterday, and today I went to work out in a fitness center for maybe the third time in my life.

I’ve never enjoyed exercising inside, but then again I’ve tended to live in places where I can ride my bike comfortably year-round.  When I previously lived in places with crappy winter weather (Hello, Iowa!), I’ve tended to have to walk a lot in winter anyway because either I didn’t have a car or I lived close enough to campus that I wasn’t allowed to purchase a parking permit and the bus route didn’t come close enough to my apartment to make riding it worthwhile, so I had to walk a lot.

Not so here.  We live five miles from campus, and because I commute with Lucas, my part of Boise isn’t the most bicycle-friendly, and (let’s face it) I’ve been focused more on work than on staying healthy, I haven’t been riding my bike as much as I should.

But my recent bout with pneumonia, plus the fact that my weight has for a couple years been hovering 0.1-0.3 points above the “normal” BMI range for my height, has made me realize I need to maintain better health.  For me this means mostly cardiovascular health, but I ought to toss in some strength training, too.

It’s been inspiring to see my friend Jeff Mather really dive into his explorations of athleticism and healthful living.  For Jeff, that means untangling what it means to be an active person with diabetes, how to overcome mental blocks as well as physical ones with regards to endurance and certain kinds of exercise (e.g. open water swimming), and how to keep track of a variety of health indicators (he’s writing an iPhone app).

I’m nowhere near as ambitious as Jeff, and I don’t face the same magnitude of obstacle he does–I’m fortunate that my own variety of autoimmune challenge has been under control for almost 20 years now–but I’m ready to take some little steps back toward the relatively fit form I enjoyed prior to Lucas’s entrance on the family scene.  I’m also realizing that I’m not the dieting type, so whatever weight loss I want to achieve, I’ll need to do it through burning calories rather than drastically reducing their intake.

Accordingly, this morning I erged vigorously for 2100 meters, then walked (and even ran) on the treadmill for half an hour, then tried out some weight machines for another fifteen minutes or so. This evening I gardened for about an hour and a half, digging holes and hauling soil and setting stakes.  The result? I’m feeling very virtuous.

I’m trying out various workout routines now so that I can (a) establish the habit of exercising and (b) figure out which one will work best with my schedule and avoid the heaviest traffic at the rec center.

How do you fit exercise into your day? And how do you keep yourself motivated? What recommendations do you have for someone just getting back into exercising after a long hiatus? And if you’re an academic, do you exercise at your campus rec center–and if so, how do you navigate sweating (and swimming) near, and sharing a locker room with, your students?

Nine

Nine years ago today, Fang and I vowed that we would support one another for better or worse, for richer or poorer, through sickness and health.

Challenges not mentioned specifically:

  • survival of a fledgling, and therefore dysfunctional, graduate program
  • loss of a beloved dog, and adoption and relinquishment of a troubled one
  • fifteen months without consistent sleep, courtesy of our infant son
  • tens of thousands of dollars of dentistry, and the accompanying pain and debt
  • a move to Idaho
  • losing tens of thousands of dollars in yearly income–twice
  • the rapid decline of Fang’s industry
  • moving far from family and friends–twice
  • between us, writing and editing a dissertation, a 900-page screenplay, around 800 pages of novel, and a couple thousand blog posts
  • $50,000 of daycare costs and preschool tuition (see the pattern? more “for poorer” than “for richer”)
  • depression, anxiety, scoliosis, shoulder surgery, root canals, bone grafts, skin cancer
  • Fang losing access to a crucial prescription drug, because it’s legal there but not here

Most of those challenges arose in just the past few years.

And yet somehow we’re not constantly at each other’s throats.

Somehow we maintain, at least for Lucas, a semblance of normal family life.

It hasn’t been easy.  It hasn’t always been fun.  The past year in particular has sucked for Fang.

And yet I adore Fang for what he has preserved at his core–an indefatigable Fangness, an acceptance of our joint errancy, and an insistence on finding the humor in it.  A total dedication to fostering the creative spirit in himself, in me, and most importantly in Lucas.

I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat.

Sweetie, here’s to a (much) better year than the last.  Here’s to better stories.  Here’s to (literally) brighter smiles (and soon).

Happy anniversary.

A Pulitzer Prize winner comes out as undocumented

This is a really powerful video.  There are millions of stories similar to this one, only attached to less prominent names.

You can read the rest of Vargas’s story at Define American.

Sesame Street and radical acceptance

Cross-posted at The Multicultural Toybox

I grew up with Sesame Street. As a child, I loved the colorful sketches and songs, and pretty much any scene that had a Muppet in it, but especially if it featured my then-favorite, lovable, furry old Grover. (Today I’m more of a Cookie Monster fan.)

These days, when I watch Sesame Street with my 5-year-old, I enjoy it for a completely different reason: its gospel of radical acceptance. Long before Lady Gaga had her hit “Born This Way,” Sesame Street preached both self-acceptance and acceptance of others, no matter what their attributes or quirks.

I think this is, at heart, what troubles conservative critics of the show. Here’s the latest attack on Sesame Street; it’s expressed during a panel moderated by Sean Hannity, and it aired on FOX on June 1:

Ben Shapiro comments on Sesame Street

I was especially interested in these bits of the conversation:

Ben Shapiro, author of Primetime Propaganda: I talked to one of the guys who was originally at Children’s Television Workshop originally, and he said that the whole purpose of Sesame Street was to cater to black and Hispanic youths who don’t have reading literature in the house. There’s kind of this soft bigotry of low expectations that’s automatically associated with Sesame Street. If you go on the Sesame Street website, it talked about ‘when you’re bringing up your child, make sure that you use gender neutral language. Make sure that you give your boys dolls and make sure that you give your girls firetrucks.

Ah, there’s so much to unpack here, isn’t there? First, it’s too easy to dismiss a desire to cater to underprivileged children of color as a “soft bigotry of low expectations.” If we look at the actual history of Sesame Street‘s founding, we find the show was the first to be structured entirely on sound educational research.

Sesame Street was (and is) driven by data, not sentiment

For anyone interested in the history of television, in children’s informal learning, or just in the story of how the first children’s educational television developed, I highly recommend G is for Growing: Thirty Years of Research on Children and Sesame Street.* In the first essay in the book, Edward Palmer (an early member of the Children’s Television Workshop staff) and Shalom Fisch tell the story of how CTW and Sesame Street came to be, and they emphasize how thoroughly the show relied on research rather than on some liberal agenda or sentiment:

What distinguished Sesame Street (and, to a lesser degree, the contemporaneous Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood) was the combination of narrowly focused and expertly planned educational curriculum, its attempt to forge the most effective possible methods of televised teaching, and its accountability to bring about rigorously measured educational results.

That isn’t to say that Sesame Street isn’t a product of a particular historical era; it very much is, and Palmer and Fisch explain how the confluence of the Civil Rights movement, greater government interest in and funding of education, and the rapid growth of public broadcasting led to the development of the first show of its kind. Specifically, they write,

CTW’s sole initial mandate was to create, broadcast, promote, and evaluate an experimental educational television series of 130 hour-long programs that would seek to advance the school readiness of 3- to 5-year-old children, with special emphasis on the needs of youngsters from low-income and minority backgrounds.

Palmer and Fisch cite research studies of the era, including those by Benjamin Bloom (1964), Carl Bereiter (1966), and Martin Deutch (1965), which taken together showed that:

  • greater than fifty percent of “a child’s lifetime intellectual capacity” is formed by age 5;
  • beginning in first grade, low-income children of color tested substantially lower than their white, middle-class peers;
  • this education deficit continued to grow after first grade; and
  • upon achievement of a basic level of literacy, children’s and adults’ opportunities for employment, as well as other opportunities, are vastly expanded.

CTW, Palmer and Fisch explain, “could not determine which group of children would cross that line [of literacy achievement] first, [but] it could—and did—aim to ensure that the maximum number possible would do so.” With 97 percent of households in the U.S. owning a TV, and most of them within the broadcast range of a public television station, CTW had the opportunity to improve the educational levels of millions of preschool children.

Sesame Street was not founded, as Ben Shapiro claims in his book and in his interview with Hannity, on low expectations and bigotry. It was founded, rather, on sound research into children’s learning, and its charge was to improve the educational readiness of all children (since children of all backgrounds would be in the broadcast area of the show), but with a special interest in providing additional support to children whose parents were unable, for whatever reason, to provide them with a first-class preschool education. The long-term goal was to help people rise out of poverty by giving children the early start they needed to develop as much intellectual capacity as they could by age 5.

But wait. . . there’s more

From the Hannity interview:

Sean Hannity: The values of young people today scare me. Cause we’re robbing them at easrlier and earlier ages of their childhood. They know more, they do more.

Kirsten Haglund: It’s very concerning. They have an access to more media at a younger age than at any other time of our nation’s history. And what you’re also seeing is more parents at work, away from their children, not monitoring what they look at. . .

Hannity: I grew up watching Green Acres and Andy Griffith.

Shapiro: Yeah, before the shift. That was before the shift.

“The shift”? The shift from portrayals of an era that existed only in white American nostalgia to. . . what? Television diversified its content and practices so quickly during the four decades following the first broadcast of Sesame Street that I’m not really sure what “the shift” signifies, other than “not rural or suburban whiteness.”

The interview continued with comments about how artists (including those involved in television production) are more liberal than the rest of a society. (I don’t buy that, but I’ll let it stand.) I immediately thought of how totalitarian regimes try to purge intellectuals and artists from their states. Ken Blackwell, however, identified a different target of such governments.

Ken Blackwell: If you look at any big government regime, any authoritarian, totalitarian regime, they attack two basic intermediary institutions–the family and the church. And that’s what’s happening in our culture right now. And it sets up an appetite for governmental largesse, government becomes the family. . .

Yes, because helping 3- to 5-year-old children establish greater intellectual capacity, with the long-term goal of ending cycles of urban poverty, is clearly an attempt to replace the child’s actual family with Big Brother.

The next couple of excerpts, however, deliver the coup de grâce:

Hannity: Liberals. . .feel like they can circumvent the values of parents when they go to school, teaching ’em things that they themselves are teaching the opposite of. They don’t do the basics, reading, writing, and math. . .

If liberals don’t like the basics–reading, writing, and math–why has the Obama administration embraced so much of No Child Left Behind, which focuses on reading and math? Why is the administration, along with conservative congresspeople, trying to defund programs like the Teaching American History grants that strengthen the teaching of history in K-12? Apparently Hannity thinks teachers are having kids watch video productions of the Communist Manifesto and whatever Judith Butler has written lately.

Haglund: But it’s a basic difference in worldview, in that usually liberals and people on the left, secular humanists, believe that human nature is ultimately good. Whereas conservatives believe it’s not. . .

Did you catch that last bit? Let me quote Haglund again: It’s a basic difference in worldview, in that usually liberals and people on the left, secular humanists, believe that human nature is ultimately good. Whereas conservatives believe it’s not. . .

I would go further and say that, in my observations of television pundits, bloggers, newspaper columnists, conservatives believe that humans who are unlike themselves are especially possessed of a nature that is ultimately not good. These pundits are not going to accept as moral or worthy of a broadcast platform anyone whose vision of the U.S. differs from their own. These unacceptable people clearly are the ones who are responsible for “the shift” in television, for the move away from Andy Griffith and toward Sesame Street. (Never mind all the corporations that conservatives court are the ones putting the real crap on TV.)

These folks could benefit from a good dose of radical acceptance, and particularly acceptance of the people whose lives have been made better by Sesame Street, who relied on the program to give them a crucial intellectual start in life. It’s time to sit Shapiro, Hannity, Haglund, Blackwell, and others of their ilk down in front of a season of Sesame Street. They need to learn to listen, to trust, and to have empathy. And I suspect Elmo, Abby Cadaby, Grover, Cookie Monster, Ernie, Bert, Big Bird, Telly, Rosita, Snuffie, Baby Bear, Oscar, Zoe, Alan, Chris, Maria, Luis, Leela, Bob, and all the other cast and crew of Sesame Street could help them learn the kind of empathy and radical acceptance of others that might make for a more productive civil discourse.

Fang’s Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Era

Fang has had a hard week.  And month.  And year.

But this last week was a bitch.

First, there was my pneumonia, which required him to step up to do all the parenting.

Second, he found a new dentist–one he really likes.  However, after years of well-meaning dentists who used a Pickett’s Charge strategy in the battle to save his teeth, Dr. W leveled with him: it would be waste to throw any more reinforcements onto that slippery slope.  She said that sooner, rather than later, he’ll need to get all his upper teeth pulled and replaced with dentures.  We had been hoping to go the implant route, but at around $3,000 per tooth, and with Fang’s bones likely weakened by the same thing that ruined his teeth, it’s more than we can afford and the implants might eventually be rejected by his body.

Third, he learned that the mole he had removed and biopsied is cancerous.

Fourth, he’s having that “two ships passing in the night” communications problem with a new freelance client.  He speaks web, and she speaks academic journal, and neither of them seems to know a single word in the other’s language.

Fifth, he did some volunteer work for Really Cool Activist Nonprofit, and they seemed enthusiastic about having him take some photos at Boise’s Pride event on Saturday, but then–even though they’re really good about contacting volunteers–they didn’t follow up with him to get him a photographer’s lanyard so that he move around more freely at the event.  He didn’t want to be Persistent and Slightly Creepy Guy Who Seems To Have A Predilection for Photographing Underdressed Drag Queens.  I’m thinking that in all the event planning, RCAN just forgot to contact Fang; Fang thinks he didn’t pass their political litmus test, and since he’s been a supporter of the national RCAN for years, he was pretty depressed.

Sixth, when he finally did feel the tiniest bit of contentment on Saturday and was messing around with my phone, texting a mutual friend of ours, I was snapped at him, and that took the bloom off the evening, even though it was super awesome roller derby night with family friends.

Seventh, his best friend for life had some really crappy stuff happen, and Fang’s absorbing some of that sadness.

Eighth, he took out an ad in Craigslist for other beginning guitarists to play with, and he didn’t get any responses.

Ninth, he’s far from family and friends, and he’s feeling that distance especially acutely right now.  He works from home, so it’s not as if he’s running into a bunch of potential new friends.

Tenth, another doctor told him he needs to stop eating just about everything he likes.

I’m sure there’s stuff I’m leaving out.

But throughout it all, Fang has been an awesome father to Lucas.  He listens.  He translates the world for the boy.  He’s teaching him to ride a bike.  He’s encouraging him to be adventurous, to try new things.  He’s taking him to movies, buying him comic books, and ensuring his fluency in the Marvel superhero canon.  He applies sunblock liberally.

This from a man who spent the first 14 months of his life in an old-school Catholic orphanage, who was abused physically and emotionally as a child and teen, who had to endure an adolescence in working-class Tucson, who dropped out of college after a semester, who became addicted in his teens, 20s, and the first half of his 30s to just about everything.  On paper, this is not the profile of an ideal candidate for Father of The Decade.

And yet he is.  Despite all the inner demons he wrestles with day in and day out, he’s an amazing dad.  Lucas has no idea, really, that Fang is depressed and frustrated.  Quite the opposite–Lucas calls him “silly.”

So while Fang may feel as if he’s fallen into yet another unlucky streak of gloom and doom, I’m feeling exceptionally fortunate to have found such an awesome dad for our son.

Thanks, Sweetie.  It’ll get better.

Psssst. . . I’d really appreciate some yaying and cheerleading for Fang in the comments, as I know he checks The Clutter Museum regularly.  The guy could use some cheering up.

A little gift from Google

Check it out–if you type the word gay, followed by a space, into Google’s search box, Google gives you a splash of color to the far right:

It reminded me a bit of the tilt search term Easter egg.