Honorary Sideline Coach...Me?

I received quite an interesting email just a moment ago. Here it is (names removed to protect the ever-so-guilty):

Dear Marcea,

My name is --- and I am a student assistant in Athletics Academic Services and in charge of organizing the Honorary Sideline Coach (HSC) program. We have taken nominations, and you have been nominated as an Honorary Sideline Coach by --- on the Soccer team!

As you know, we are in the midst of another exciting soccer season, and I am happy to extend to you an invitation to experience the excitement first hand as an HSC. This program provides a unique experience for our faculty to be with the team and participate in team activities on the day of the competition. The selection of the faculty to participate comes directly from our student athletes. Your name was submitted by --- because you have positively impacted her experience at UNI.

Umm...Honorary Sideline Coach? Did I miss something? What is this? Somebody please tell me. I am the least athletic or sports-minded person I know. And why have I never heard of anything like this before?  I am teaching a class at UNI on how to teach grammar to K-8 students and I do have one student who is on the soccer team. So this must have to do with her. Dang her for getting me involved! What the heck?

Essentially though, aside from the fact that I have no idea what an Honorary Sideline Coach is or does, here's my quandary -- the class I'm teaching is only a 1 credit hour course, and it's ONLINE!!!  I don't even know these students and they don't know me. I have no clue what they look like or sound like. I know them only from a few keystrokes every week.  As instructor-students, we've interacted a handful of times on our course website, and in terms of this soccer student, I've only corresponded with her via email once or twice. So how in the world could she have nominated me, ME!, to be such a thing?

I suppose I should be honored. Right? After all, it is an HONORARY title.  Or should I be suspicious? Is this some new type of student-instructor hazing?  Will I show up only and be the only one there? Or will I arrive in the midst of some "under-the-cloak-of-darkness" hazing ritual where they demand that I drink beer upside down, build a pyramid out of aluminum cans, and then sprint over hot coals just to get back to my car? (And then end up on someone's Facebook page, naturally.)

Then again, maybe this actually is a good thing -- a fine, upstanding, university-sanctioned event. Perhaps I will get a free T-Shirt or perhaps some pom poms to wave. Maybe all I have to do is show up and I'll be treated as "queen for a day," er "coach for a day." Maybe I can even ask for an official whistle and megaphone!

If I do decide to go, I just hope they wouldn't expect much, especially not (Heaven forbid) coaching!

Rescue Cats? I Don't Think So.

Five years of teaching full time at HCC and I can't believe I still have trouble adjusting to going back to work after the summer. No, I didn't teach on campus this summer, but I did teach two online classes and do a lot of traveling so it's not like I was totally a bum. The worst part of it is that this is like the easiest semester I've had since I started there!

For starters, I am only teaching 5 classes at HCC. The past 4 fall semesters that I've been there, I've had an overload for a total of 6 classes, and usually, that means 6 classes that run for 16 weeks.  This time, I have 5 classes, and 4 of them are 8-week classes, which means I am really only teaching 3 classes at one time. How awesome is that?!?! PLUS...my schedule is so sweet this semester that I am only teaching 4 days a week...yeah, seriously...4 days! I don't have to teach on Fridays for the first time in...well...EVER!

So why, am I so exhausted all the time when I come home? Today, I was done with class at 2:15 -- I stayed until 2:30 to help a student. Then I went back to my office and sat there for a minute thinking of what I should do. After about a minute and two seconds, I decided to go home. Yeah, that's right! I went home! Why? Because I could! I was technically done for the day. So home, I went.

"What did I do at home?" you ask. Exercise? No. Grade papers? No. Load the dishwasher? No. Plop down on the couch and turn on the TV? Yes! I was excited to find Haunted Collector on and was settling into a lazy hour or so before Dr. Phil came on when before I knew it, I was out like a light. Completely, totally, unconsciously asleep. Apparently my phone rang twice and I got two text messages during this time. Keep in mind that the phone was on the arm of the couch directly above my head. Did I hear it? No. Might it have been important? Yes.

Sadly, one of those calls and one of those texts came from Ken, who was stuck at work because the poor chap locked his keys in the car. My fault? No...but I guess I should have been available to go get the guy. Thankfully, he kept calling and I finally woke up. Then, of course, I had to drive to the JD Northeast site in my barely awake stupor.

Thankfully, the house was not on fire. Had the fire alarm gone off, I probably wouldn't have heard it, and I doubt any one of our 3 cats would have been as heroic as those dogs you see on TV rescuing their owners when they are passed out.  Of course, they have no trouble walking all over me and biting me in the face at 3:00 a.m. when they want to be fed, but bother to do a little thing like wake me up in the face of a life-threatening fire or an urgent phone call, no. Thanks, cats.

And so the adjustment to a fall work schedule continues. Hopefully, for myself and the sake of those who may ultimately depend on me to save them by driving spare car keys across town, I will get into this routine and the nap times will either become less frequent or less comatose in nature.

Conversation with a Student

The following conversation took place in the hallway outside my office between 11:45 a.m.-12:00 p.m. today. 

Student: "Mrs. --- is so unfair! She counted me absent today but I was there."

Me: "Why would she count you absent if you were there?"

Student: "I got there early and put my stuff in the classroom. Then I had to run to Financial Aid to do something. When I came back she wouldn't let me sign the attendance sheet."

Me: "How long were you gone?"

Student: " Five minutes."

Me: "Five minutes? Really?

Student: "Maybe a little longer.

Me: "Like what?"

Student: "I got there at 9:30"

Me: "Class started at 9, right? You missed 30 minutes out of a 75 minute class?"

Student: "Yeah."

Me: "So you missed almost the whole first part of class?"

Student: "Yeah."

Me: "You think you should get full credit for that?"

Student: "Yeah. I left my stuff in there, so she knew I was coming back."

Me: "You just left your stuff in there? Dropping your things in there doesn't mean you were there. Your backpack could get credit, but you can't."

Student: "You don't know what I'm sayin'..."

Me: "Yeah, I do. You're sayin' you weren't there, but your backpack was and you're mad that you won't get counted as attending when you weren't actually attending."

Student: "I'm going to complain to my adviser. He's a Dean and he will tell her how things are supposed to be and take care of me. He'll make her add me."

Me: "But you weren't in class the whole time."

Student: "So?"

Me: "So, why should you get full credit for not being there?"

Student: "Uh..."

Me: "Is this going to affect your grade in the class?"

Student: "No."

Me: "So what's the big deal?"

Student: "She can't do that to me."

Me: "What do you mean 'she can't'? She's the teacher. Those are her rules. So, really, you're just mad that you didn't get your way."

Student: "Yeah, well, I guess. So does that mean I shouldn't tell my advisor?"

---

Afterthought:  In my 12 years of college, I don't recall having a lesson or class called, "Dealing with Students' Ever-Changing Perceptions of Reality." 

---

Later, I delighted in this imaginary conversation I could have with my boss...

Boss: "Where were you yesterday? We didn't see you around and you didn't tell us you were going to be gone."

Me: "Oh, I was there. When I got there, I turned the light on in my office and left my bag. Then I had to go to the grocery store to get something for dinner, then take the cats to the vet, and then go home and mow my lawn. But I was there because I left my stuff there."

Boss: "Oh, ok. I guess as long as you dropped your stuff off you should still get paid the full amount for the day even though you completed no work, contributed nothing to the school, and were, in fact, in no way shape or form, where you were supposed to be."

Me: "Yup."

All Things Old Are New Again

I found out today I still have at least one loyal reader! Roger, this blog is dedicated to you!

Today's major project was to move an antique desk from its long-time home at The Farm to it's new place in Waterloo. Starting off at Mom's, we picked up her and her truck, made a quick stop at the brush dump to get rid of some debris, and then headed out to Sheila and Roger's place, aka The Farm. The plan: to pick up Great Grandma Mae Bramblette's (yes, with an 'e' at the end) writing desk and bring it to our house where the entire family can enjoy it more by having it out in the open. 

First off, I think this desk is absolutely amazing!  When I first saw it, I just had this feeling about it. It's almost like I could feel its use over the years. I never knew Great Grandma Bramblette, but I like to think there's something about her attached to this desk. In addition, because there are a lot of pieces in the desk that belonged to Grandpa Dudley Bramblett (no 'e' at the end here), it has a lot of him as part of it too. 

Truth be told, I was so scared to bring it out of the basement at The Farm -- seriously, I was afraid it would fall apart or just plain fall and break into a million pieces. However, Ken, Mom, Sheila and I somehow managed to get it up and out and in the truck. Fifty or so odd bungee cords later and Ken had it secured and we were road-ready. I'm glad to say we made it home safely and in one piece (though, thank you, Roger, for volunteering to drive behind us to pick up any falling pieces...!). It was a slow drive home, but one well worth the extra care.

Once we made it back here, it was a painstakingly slow process of getting it in the front door (only 4 steps) and then sliding it into position in the living room. I spent some time dusting and cleaning it up a bit. I also couldn't wait to put some of the original books back in it as well -- just to see what it would look like. When all was done, all I could say was, "Wow! How beautiful!"  I hope the whole family will agree and we'll have many years enjoying it together.

"Yeah! Bananas -- Sweet!"

I love my Tuesday/Thursday 8:00 a.m. class of Writing 2 students. What a great group! This morning, I didn't have to rush up to campus by 6 a.m. like I normally do in order to get grading done before my 8 a.m. class. I made a stop at the grocery store to pick up a few necessities, and while I was there, I thought, "Might as well bring some treats in for the students." I grabbed some donuts, some mini cherry pastry turnover things, little bottles of Sunny D and then, sort of as an after thought, some bananas in case anyone preferred a lighter fare.

When I got into the classroom, there were 3 or so in there at that time -- thankfully 7 more came shortly after that. They saw the food and were like, "Is that for us?" I said, "Sure, I was at the grocery store and thought I'd grab us some treats." Those students got up from their chairs so fast that I could hardly believe it. The best part was when I took the bananas out of the bag and put them on the table. The only guy in there at that time said, "Yeah! Bananas -- Sweet!" and took two. 

While I chuckled to myself about that in that moment, after thinking about it for a while, I realized that there is probably a lot more to that statement than I initially thought. Bananas -- no big deal, right? Sure, for me growing up, bananas were always around along with apples, grapes, oranges, and of course, more summer strawberries than we could eat -- on shortcake, ice cream, in pies, or in Grandma's jam that we'd freeze and enjoy all year long. It was no big deal and I thought all of that was just part of the package of growing up.

With my students, I'm not so sure. The longer I teach at the community college in my town, the more I notice about the disparity between my upbringing and that of some of my students. I didn't grow up rich. I had two parents and they both worked, and worked hard, but we never were really in need of anything. We didn't have the biggest house ever (6 people in one, two-turned-into-three bedroom-house with one bathroom), didn't have new furniture or new cars and we didn't take vacations to Disney or anything like that, yet we always had what we needed, and in many cases, we were able to get a few things that we didn't need but wanted. When I say "we," I'm referring to my 3 sisters and me because my parents were the kind that were more than generous -- giving first to others and reserving leftovers for themselves, including driving rusty old trucks!

But what about my students? So many of them come from broken homes, the foster system, parents in prison, brothers and cousins killed on the street, having 3 babies by the time they are 19, being arrested themselves, and so forth. I could go on and on. In the midst of all that, did their parents stop to think about buying bananas while at the grocery store? Forget bananas -- what about grapes, strawberries, or even carrots, broccoli or cauliflower? Those things are not cheap, and when your income is low to begin with, compounded by multiple children or even generations of families living together, compounded again by lower educational background affecting one's understanding of the importance of those foods, and so forth and so forth, what importance do bananas have in the grand scheme of things?

Really thinking about this makes me feel so guilty -- guilty for having so much and for not realizing it, guilty for not thinking twice when I grab a bunch of bananas and stick them in my shopping cart and guilty for not understanding how the rest of the world is functioning around me. I've said it many times before: I live in a bubble, a big pink plastic bubble -- a place where there is and generally has been enough money, where college is done and paid for; where our house is comfortable and cared for; where my neighborhood is green and lush with trees, a place where people jog, walk, their dogs, and ride their bikes at any time of the day or night; where I don't have to worry about having the house windows shot out or the cops coming through regularly; where I don't have to closely watch the computer at the grocery store worrying about how high the total will get, where I don't worry about just getting enough gas to be able to make it to work that week (though I do cringe at the cost), and much much more.

And so as I sit here in my office at work typing this (insert here..."where I don't have to do manual labor in the extreme heat/cold for minimum wage"), all I can think now is, "Yeah! Bananas -- sweet!" ...such a simple phrase.

Right?

Find the Squirrel in This Picture

Stucco-It-To-Me-Baby

We met with "first choice roofing guy" -- I have an urge to call him "Bachelor #1" --  a week or so ago. Results of meeting: not good! He presented us with some options regarding the roof, the beams, and the stucco. To make a long story short, he thinks we need to take down all the old wood, take down all the original stucco, replace stucco with Hardie Board (apparently, the latest in stucco replacement), replace wood beams with MiraTec (some sort of composite material), paint both of the aforementioned items, then proceed with the roofing project. Oh, and did I mention that we also have to add in the cost for re-stuccoing (is that a word?) and re-beaming (yeah, I'm pretty sure that isn't a word) the garage.

The Estimated Cost: ~$30,000

I don't know what you're thinking right now, but my first thought involved chest pains and an overwhelming desire to move. We needed to do some hefty thinking on that one. After a half a week of thinking heftily (man, I'm just making up all sorts of words tonight), I shared the latest on the situation with my friend Kelly who had some not-so-great news to report about that particular company. Turns out, they did some work in her town after a bad storm and the majority of the people in town were not pleased with the quality and they said it was completely overpriced! It was so bad that some of them put signs in their yard telling others NOT to ever use this company. Time to rethink Bachelor #1.

I decided to call in "second choice roofing guy" -- aka Bachelor #2 -- to come back and ask us for his opinion about what the other guy said. Bachelor #2 was the first one to notice the rotten wood when he gave us our initial roofing estimate, so I knew he was detailed enough to see what was actually happening up there in roof land.  His initial estimate was very reasonable and he sounded extremely knowledgeable about his craft.  After a week of exchanging emails about the situation, we arranged for him to come over today to reinspect.

Important Side Note: Fast and reliable communication is extremely important to me when in the process of choosing a construction company. Bachelor #1 was good for a while, but I think he tired of my questions as he has not responded to my last query in a week. Bachelor #2 is doing great so far -- a response within 24 hours of each email sent. He's definitely pulling ahead in this aspect of the competition. 

Bachelor # 2 came out this morning and seemed to think that our stucco looked pretty good for being 70 years old. There are areas that obviously could use some paint and places where the stucco and beams meet that could definitely stand to be recaulked (I do know that is a word because he said it about 20 times this morning.) Long story short: he thinks we can take the beams down and replace with the MiraTec and reseal, but he doesn't think the stucco is in that bad of shape to need to be replaced completely. Sigh-of-relief!  He'll return on Monday with some dudes to take measurements and get up on the roof for a better look. Then he'll give us estimates for the cost of redoing the whole thing: one doing all the things #1 wanted us to do -- and with his suggested alternative.

As of now, I'm feeling a lot better about this.  As an added bonus, he told us about different houses in Cedar Falls that he worked on where he installed Hardie Board so that we could see samples of his work. We drove by them tonight and found them highly satisfactory.

And so, we commence with more waiting. Hopefully, this time we will get better news when it comes to estimates. We've come to accept the need for more work than just the roof, but now the question becomes just how much coin will we have to fork out.