Of Muses and Musings

Most of us have heard of battle fatigue, especially with the ongoing situation in Iraq. But it’s something that probably should come as common sense: people can only stand to be in battle action for so long. The U.S. Army estimated in WWII that troops could only maintain combat effectiveness for a few weeks on the front line. After that, they were too drained to fight very well (whether it was emotionally, from heavy casualties to the unit, or some combination thereof).

It’s something that can affect regular soldiers and generals as well. While touring a medical tent, General Patton famously hit one of his soldiers who “just couldn’t take it” on the front lines anymore (the soldier was not wounded, but was suffering from battle fatigue). Patton could not stand to see a seeming-healthy soldier sitting in a medical tent among other soldiers who were wounded- some covered in bandages, some with limbs missing (Patton was visibly moved by the sight of these other soldiers). Other commentators at the time reasoned that Patton was probably also suffering from battle fatigue, just like the soldier he had struck.

Clearly, officers can only take so much as well. After so long, how can you keep ordering men to their deaths? How can you continue to fight? There are ways of coping, but eventually it can become too much (Saving Private Ryan, among other books and films, examines this very well).

While it may seem a bit of a stretch, I am feeling somewhat the same way about teaching. After this last semester, I am at the point where it feels like my teaching has suffered too many casualties. Don’t get me wrong, things are still good for the most part. My evaluations from students are fine, students are learning and enjoying the class (or as much as they can for a writing class that they have to take), I’m still wanting to teach, etc. But for part of me just doesn’t… or maybe even can’t… take any more.

Like battle fatigue, it’s an accumulation of things. The vast majority of my students are great, but you have those few outliers every semester. Students that just give up and dropped the class. That obviously don’t care and don’t budge no matter how you try. Worse, students that don’t put in effort and take it out on you (a random evaluation from a student that says “I got bad grades because the teacher hated me” and “I thought I worked hard and did well, but he just graded me low”). Worse are students with a major grudge- I’ve only had 3-4 over the years, but they grind you down, making you forget you even had good students (one called me the “department’s bitch” for some reason… another this semester said I was somehow “disrespectful,” and then hilariously/depressingly called me an “asshole”).

They’re not the norm, and I know the reason for their dislike: they don’t like writing; they don’t want to learn it; they don’t want to work; and they certainly don’t want to be pushed to do better, as I do for all of my students in my classes. Instead, they want a solid string of A’s for no work, and they will take their wrath out on any teacher that gets in their way.

Normally, I can shrug it off- maybe even laugh at the childishness (being called an asshole and then disrespectful in the same section of an evaluation is just too silly… if it wasn’t also depressing, I would laugh every time I thought of it. That comment is made funnier/worse since this student thought research was “too hard,” even though I helped her find 100+ articles on the glass ceiling in business, and all she had to do was read them. I even had her click into an article and told her to start reading… to which she repeatedly said “this is too hard.” ). Normally, I can focus on the good students, the ones who show up, try, and make it all worthwhile. But there is a big chunk of me that just can’t shake it, and it’s worrying me. I don’t want to burn out, the teacher’s version of battle fatigue, but I don’t know that I can stop it either.

This might be over-dramatizing things a bit. I’m still going to go to school this summer and next fall, and teach. But there is just too much worry to ignore right now.

Before my rant, here are three examples for you to consider.

1. Jessica and I could not leave our parking space on Sunday because our neighbors were parked so close to us. On Saturday evening, we parked near to the right line, as our neighbor on the left had two tires intruding into our space. The next day, she was half in our space, half in hers, and maybe an inch from scraping sideview mirrors with us. The original culprit was the man parked next to her, who was half in her space, half in his. All this meant we couldn’t get the doors on either side of the car open and physically get in the car.

We contacted building management, and after and HOUR AND A HALF of rigamarole (the man had no GAS in his car, the woman took so long to move her car that we had to call management again), we were finally able to leave. *I must apologize for the lack of pictures on this one… we talked about it but never took any*

2. Today, in the twelfth week of the semester, a student asked about how she is supposed to lay out her paper (where to put her header, etc.). She had received a handout telling her just how to do that from me in the second week, but since it wasn’t the same as MLA formatting, and she wasn’t sure which she was supposed to do. She acknowledged she “should have asked sooner” but still wanted to know.

3. Three weeks after having conferences with students about a past paper, and two weeks since those papers were turned in, I realized that two students had not turned in that same paper (I handed back those papers today, slightly delayed because of Minnesota’s wonderful mid-April blizzard). Their question, “weren’t we supposed to conference with you first?” “Yes, three weeks ago,” I replied. Three weeks, and this is the first peep I’ve heard from them on this issue.

I could provide more ridiculous examples, but you get the idea. And while all of the above are college-age people (it’s almost enough to make me question my job choice, heh), these… stupidities/lazities are not limited to any one age group.

What is it with people not helping themselves? With not being proactive? For example one, why were we the ones calling building management, and not our neighbor on the left? The man had been half parked in her spot since the evening before, and she had said and done nothing. Instead, she chose to continue the problem, to the point where we couldn’t even get into our car. The whole thing was so silly that on the one hand, it had me cracking up from its unbelievable stupidity, and on the other, completely depressed. I hope an axe murderer never comes to my apartment, because any screams for help would be ignored (if one of my neighbors can’t do something for themselves, they’re certainly not going to for someone else).

And my other students… are just indicative of what I see every semester. Sitting and not understanding, but not asking anything, either. Letting weeks of conferences, due dates, and working on a next paper go by, but never asking whether they should be getting a previous paper in.

It’s no wonder we have 21 year-olds trying to slam 21 drinks in 1-2 hours on their 21st birthday and supposedly only doing it because of peer pressure (or so the parents would love to believe). Or that people can’t think a little for themselves before committing to a mortgage they can’t afford. Or that men are stereotyped as being not able to control themselves when it comes to women. …I could really attack those, but I will wait.

But seriously, why won’t people help themselves?

It’s not often that I would use the word “opportunity” to talk about a movie. Especially a movie landscape that lets such bottom feeders as The Hottie and the Nottie to, ummm, grace our local movie theaters. Be that as it may, I’m using it. So look out people!

*ahem*

All Neal-goofiness aside, Once really is a rare movie-going opportunity. I could throw a plethora of other adjectives at it as well, like unique, different, triumphant, refreshing, real, hopeful… but… I’ll stop before I get too carried away. Too late, I know, but this movie does rate a large amount of enthusiasm.

Once isn’t quite a musical (though its songs are certainly one of a kind), and it certainly isn’t quite the love story that advertisers and the Oscars want it to be. What it is, is raw potential. Opportunity. Life has its inertia and we find ourselves in the same place, not quite where we want it to be. But there is the chance to come together, to grow, to create, to convert—and change to raw action and energy. It is here where Once gains its excellence. And what an amazing opportunity it is to see it in action.

It is, I think, a temptation we all feel. To be cool, to be hip. To matter. It’s a feeling that I don’t think is uncommon to teachers, either.

This may seem a bit ridiculous at first, but no matter how nerdy or out of it some of your past teachers may have been, there is still a drive within them to matter, to be intriguing. To be cool, if you will. After all, who really wants to stand in front of a bunch of sleeping or disinterested students? Some may have become so burnt out as to not care, and others may be too out of it to notice, but if you really care about your teaching (even if just a little), it’s a feeling you have had.

So in some respects, I cannot be too surprised at what Joseph Ellis did. For those of you who do not know, Joseph Ellis is a Pulitzer Prize winning author, whose books and thoughts on the American Revolution and our “Founding Fathers” are well-known and respected (I myself have read and enjoyed most of his books). However, in the year in which he won his Pulitzer, Ellis was suspended from teaching at Mt. Holyoke College where he taught. The reason? He lied. He told untruths. In a class he taught about America and Vietnam, he stated that he fought in Vietnam and was a peace activist afterwards. In reality, he taught history at West Point during the war.

Why did he do it? It certainly seems insane for someone who is acknowledged as being a first-rate historian, writer, and teacher. It seems all the more so when you consider how much truthfulness and honesty is valued, if not found to be of absolute necessity as a scholar and a teacher. For without honesty and integrity, how can we trust what a writer or a teacher is saying (especially an “investigator” of history)? Yet it is these things Ellis put on the line with his dishonesty. And while I do not know the man, I can work from the facts and attempt to make a well-formulated opinion as to why he may have done it (much as Ellis does in his examinations of George Washington, John Adams, etc.). I honestly think Ellis did it because he wanted to matter to his students. He wanted to be cool.

And this is even more ironic (above and beyond the fact that he put his reputation as a scholar on the line) when you consider that one of his books–written and researched a decade and more before his suspension–examines the life of John Adams, the second President of the United States. One of the central tenets in the book and of Adams’s philosophy for life and politics is that all human motivation comes from the desire to be “observed, considered, esteemed, praised, beloved and admired by his fellows…” To Adams, any pursuits or results in life come about from the this singular need: wealth is not the cause, nor governmental corruption or strength, but the drive for distinction. The need, again, to be cool.

So on the one hand, Ellis has played into Adams’s philosophy and shown what a real temptation this is for all of us. But on the other, I really have to ask: what happened? Ellis supposedly mastered this concept to write about it, yet he still did not learn from it. What does this say about the hope of teaching to students? For teachers? For humanity itself? It’s enough to make me despair, especially given my usual end of the semester stress and doldrums.

It would be even worse, however, if I believed like Adams and thought the most we could do against this impulse was to maintain self-discipline and create governments that effectively managed and controlled this impulse. If that were all we could do, I would have to give up on life here and now, despite some of the merits our government can have. Because if success like that had by two singular men like John Adams and Joseph Ellis wasn’t enough for them, how can any accomplishment made solely on our part be enough for us? However, I can be thankful, looking on this heavy side of darkness, that that isn’t all we have to depend on. That there are such opposing things as grace. No matter how small things like that may seem at times in the world.

My wife is the most amazing woman in the world, for she has purchased me the best candy bar in the world: the Mars bar. And not just any nutty Mars bars, either. Tasty, chocolatey, wonderful Mars bars from the United Kingdom!

Why the UK, you say? Because they make it without nuts, and it’s better: the formulation is richer and… FANTASTIC! Some may say that they’re just like Three Musketeers or Milky Way (which the UK Mars Bar was originally made to emulate), but they haven’t tasted the difference. And besides, who wouldn’t want their bar to tell them its weight in grams, or tell you how much “energy” it has (I like “energy” much more than “calories.” It makes you feel like you’re preparing to be Superman or something, even though you’re just working on padding out your waistline)?

Oh, and being from the UK seems to be the deciding factor. Because I’ve been given Mars bars from Australia, and they’re not as good. Heh, you might as well just have a Milky Way, if you can stomach it (heh, just kidding, Milky Ways are good too, if not AS good).

Now, I know that some of you might prefer a good ‘ole Snickers. And perhaps a crazy couple that love those Charleston Chews. And while I can appreciate other candy bars, they just can’t stand up to the UK Milky Way. Sorry!

There are some people who like vinegar (I could throw in a couple of other adjectives to describe them, but I’ll hold back). Like my wife, for instance. When my mother-in-law was trying to make her stop sucking her thumb as a child, she put vinegar on her thumb. Boy, did that ever backfire, because Jessica loved it.

So it came as no surprise that Jessica said, “Mmmmmm, that smells good,” when she opened up some vinegar while making an apple pie for Thanksgiving. And it came as even less surprise that I replied, “Dang, that’s nasty.” To my mind, vinegar just reeks. It’s acrid, it’s nasty, it makes me feel like Jerry does when he opens up the door and sees Newman on the other side. Yeah, it’s that bad.

This is troubling, because the apple pie we made is so good. The apple, cinnamon, sugar, butter, and even vinegar all come together so nicely and in such a tasty manner. But it’s much like being given a gift by your worst enemy. Do you trust it? In this case, it was worth the trust, so vinegar and I are in a temporary truce. Temporary, I say, because I am still convinced that vinegar is up to no good. No good I say! *shakes fist*

Thanksgiving food? Darn good stuff. Thanksgiving dishes? Evil incarnate.

The worst are the little buggers like tablespoons and teaspoons (especially with ours since they’re on a little ring with a bunch of other measuring spoons). You think you’ve scrubbed around each one of them and gotten all the gunk off, only to find some more later. And some more. Gah.

And while having a dishwasher is a wonderful thing, you can only put so much in there. At least we have enough good leftovers to outlast all the dirty dishes. Mmmmm, completely homemade apple pie.

It’s a wish we could all have with many things. For a small amount of my students, they wish they could not attend a class for the first half of a semester and still pass it (or party all the time and do well in college, heh). Sadly, it just doesn’t work.

Nor does it work for Phillip Pullman. For those of you not in the know, Phillip Pullman is a British author whose “Dark Materials” book trilogy is about to have its movie debut, called The Golden Compass. The movie is garnering a bit of attention, and not just because an A-list star like Nicole Kidman is starring in the movie. It’s gaining this attention in part because there is a wonderful bit of creativity and imagination in the story, but also because there are many who deem the books to be anti-religion, and more specifically, anti-Christian.

But according to Pullman this week on The Today Show this is all so much bluster and authoritarianism (note the link to the video feed of his interview with Al Roker on the upper right: the link is entitled “Pullman on the ‘Compass’ Controversy”) on the part of those who would like us to read his books in a certain way.

That’s what Pullman is saying now for the national U.S. News media. But he has said elsewhere (and there is no doubt on this score) that he is an atheist. But that’s not so bad, right? Just because you’re an atheist and have written a book doesn’t mean that the book is anti-Christian. But he also told the Sydney Morning Herald that “My books are about killing God” (drawn from here at snopes.com as I couldn’t find a direct link to the Herald article, but Snopes is a fairly good myth buster site)

So which is it? Pullman certainly can’t have this both ways: the position is untenable. This means that we will simply have to “hit the books” and see what they say. As Pullman believes that the “democracy of reading” should be able to figure things out for themselves (despite his willingness to say that you should find love, compassion, and courage in his books, as he intended for us to see those. Without noting whether he intended us to see things about religion, I might add: I rather think the man should be a politician), that’s what we need to do. I accomplished this myself when I read these books this summer (without knowing there was a controversy over these books or knowing a movie was coming out).

Within the books, we can see evidence for his contention that he is simply against religious authoritarianism. In all honesty, this is what we mostly see of religion in the first book (the least anti-religion of the three books), and while that is a touchy subject, any honest person has to agree that it has usually been a bad thing in human history when religion and politics has mixed.

But then he goes further. There is more mention of religion than this anti-authoritarian aspect in the three books. We go on to see that the God throughout all worlds/dimensions (the “Dark Materials” trilogy makes use of the theory of multiple dimensions or worlds) is actually a power hungry entity that did not create anything. He just came first and pretended that he did create the world to all the beings that came after him, using this to prove his lordship over them. There are angels who rebelled against this falsehood and were cast out. And ironically, God (referred to as the Authority in the books) gets old and senile, so he is made into a figurehead by another angel who continues his evil, authoritarian ways. This is coupled with direct connections to the Christian church of our dimension (a woman who rejected her vows as a nun refutes Christianity and calls it a “compelling mistake”) and more direct comments on religion itself. There is a lot more that can be added to this list of evidence, but I will spare you a huge list of details. That is certainly enough to show a clear atheistic message and one that at the least rejects religion. It is also easy to see that the religion shown has enough feeling of Christianity to make these books anti-Christian.

It seemed clear to me what Pullman was up to after reading through all three of his books late this summer. He leaves little doubt to it, making his waffling on the Today show on Friday much more egregious (it’s one thing to write the books that way, another to cloud the issue in hopes of getting more to read your books or see your movie, the only reason I can see for him doing this). But I won’t be authoritarian on the subject: read it for yourself, with eyes open, and see what it says. Moreover, determine for yourself if this is a book your child can handle or one you think is good. But most of all, know what you see and think it through: because it can’t be both ways.

*Added note* I had high hopes for these books, as there is a lot of creativity and imagination in them, which could have made for a great story (and almost did, in some ways). The books just couldn’t follow through on this promise, however. Aside from the comments on religion and the blatant agenda concerning it, Pullman goes both ways on a lot of things in his books. Two characters are very much like the Satan of Paradise Lost: very evil yet somehow supposed to be heroes as well. Religious themes are used to counter religion. Spirituality is shown as part and parcel of who we are, yet our physical nature is also rejoiced. And beyond this, many ideas and characters aren’t completely followed through on. The result is a confused mess that doesn’t work very well: if it weren’t for the spurts of imagination and sensationalistic agenda, I suspect these books would have gone nowhere fast.

I still leave your decision up to you, but I did want to make it clear on where I stand: that I do believe these books have an anti-religious message, but also that they don’t work very well as stories. In other words, I’m not trying to have my cake and eat it too, unlike Phillip Pullman.

In your papers:

“One reason why this topic is right for me is that being a male and knowing that, for the most part.”

(Heh, if you’re not quite secure in your manhood, I’m not sure I’m going to buy the argument you’re espousing in your paper… just saying)

When you’re walking a few yards in front of your teacher:

“I HATE this class. I have to force myself to come to class whenever we have it.”

(Ouch, man. And I work for hours to grade and do all the things I need to do to get ready for class. *sniffs* How I hate thee, cruel, cruel students and world!)

These are both quite true, by the way. After hearing the student say that she hated the class, I said “You know, you shouldn’t say that when your teacher is walking right behind you.” Hehe, the look on her face was priceless.

It turns out, of course, that she doesn’t feel like she’s good at writing and that she’s not doing as well in the class as she would like. And this is the FIRST I had heard about it. It took my overhearing this comment in the hall for something to be done, when she could have been going to me for help in the first place.

It’s probably one of the most frustrating things students can do: not ask questions or request help. I’m hoping this situation is now turning around, as I helped her with her recently with preparing our next paper. But we’ll see.

Students. *shakes his head and chuckles ruefully*

Well, I set myself a regular publishing schedule for these writings in my previous post, and a little more than two weeks later, I am very off of that. That’s what I get for being so silly as to propose I publish regularly, I suppose.

At any rate, here is my next little writing. It’s mostly focused on answering the question of who Galadriel is (the elf queen that assists Frodo and the Fellowship after their journey through Moria), but I rather wish it went further now. You will have to read through for yourself, but I also believe she is a reminder of what we can be, good and bad (not just good). By showing her temptation, Tolkien reminds us that each of us can do much: for good and for bad. How great our deeds are may change given our location and ability, but it is always up to us where things add up in the end.

I also see this writing as something of a response to another common criticism made of Tolkien. My teacher, in a fit of truthfulness or maybe British wit/sarcasm (it’s sometimes hard to be sure, as it is with Tolkien), accused the women in Lord of the Rings of being “as flat as pancakes.” I rather like to think that I refute that idea with this writing, but once again, you’ll have to read through and see if you agree.

Who is Galadriel?

Galadriel is a bit of a mystery in The Lord of the Rings. She isn’t a warrior, but she holds Sauron and the world at bay. She touts her husband Celeborn’s wisdom, but we see much more of her wisdom in the book. She isn’t a counselor by her own admission, yet the knowledge and gifts she gives helps the Fellowship more than almost all the wise counsel they have received thus far.

Adding to her mystery is an element of danger. There is a respect and awe given to her—according to her power—and that power at times seems to lead to danger. She almost seems a snake in the garden, tempting the Fellowship with easier ways and even more knowledge: one could even say that her mirror is like the apple of good and evil. “For it shows things that were, and things that are, and things that yet may be.” She also admits that seeing, and therefore knowing things is perilous . Boromir feels this as well, as he identifies her power to “see” things, and perceives an evil bent to it: just as the reader has been allowed to up to this point. Aragorn, who is not new to her power as we and the rest of the Fellowship are, gainsays him, saying there is no evil in her or the Land of Lorien.

This is eventually born out by the rest of the events in Lorien: she gives her gifts, and more importantly, rejects her own temptation when she refuses to take the ring, despite her wanting to. Therefore, rather than being evil, she is an indication of what good, wisdom, and knowledge can be. Powerful, forceful, and capable, without usurpation or grasping, as is evident in any evil seen in the books: be it in Boromir’s temporary fall, Saruman, or Sauron himself.

More than that, however, Galadriel is another “helper” in the book. While the other helpers offer external help—for the most part—Galadriel helps the Fellowship by giving them the knowledge of themselves. She shows them their weaknesses: allowing them to turn them into strengths, or at least not to go forward blindly. In essence, she is a wisdom giver; the Fellowship know more of themselves and are able to handle future problems better because of her gifts: both the physical objects, and those of knowledge and wisdom. This is shown consistently throughout the books, from choices and actions after Lorien to Shelob’s lair, and even all the way back to the Shire, when the quest is seemingly done. Wisdom gives strength to any deeds, be they great or small, and it may be passed on. Through her actions and their repercussions, it is clear that Galadriel is a symbol or indication of the very height of what lesser beings—be they elves, men, or hobbits—can attain through good and wisdom.