I recently friended my cousin on Facebook, and while I was viewing his profile I noticed that he had joined a group supporting Newt Gingrich for president in 2008.
I also joined this group, but I felt like it deserved an explanation.
I am fully aware that this is unlikely. I know all the reasons why this can never be. But, if I am honest, I must admit to the world that I do hope he becomes president. I've read several of his writings and I've heard him speak on numerous occasions. On the whole, I agree with him.
I'm ready for an intellectual president. (He just has to be one I agree with.) And, I'm tired of just rooting for the best-of-the-inadequate-front-runners.
So, here's to a little idealism and hoping for the best.
Monday, February 5, 2007
Sunday, February 4, 2007
Heckling: Finding Friends in the Crowd
I've never been much of a heckler at sporting events. My idea of a great live sporting event is a lot closer to a spring training game than a playoff football game. Or was.
I have some friends who come from a tradition of heckling. We've been going to various UCF sporting events where I've come to appreciate it as a kind of art form that requires practice, discipline, and perseverance.
UCF has very nearly completed it's new 10,000 seat basketball arena on campus, but for the remainder of this season, the UCF basketball team will play in it's current arena, which is much smaller. One of the interesting things about it is that there are no seats behind either basket. There are, however, walkways with railing on the second story just behind the basket. And, if you are willing to stand or lean for the whole game, there isn't a better seat in the house. You are literally right on top of the players.
Which brings us back to heckling. From this vantage point, the players can hear everything you shout, even when the place is pretty loud. For me, attendance has been transformed from an exercise in observation to one of participation. The things I say can be heard by the players (they are human beings remember) and can have an effect. Perhaps I'll write in another post my thoughts about the proper way to heckle, which are still developing.
But, standing behind the railing above the basket is a pretty noticeable place to be, especially if you are shouting various comments the whole game. And so I've noticed that people will suddenly appear behind us, tap us on the shoulder, and say "hi". They never did that when I was just clapping in the seats.
I have some friends who come from a tradition of heckling. We've been going to various UCF sporting events where I've come to appreciate it as a kind of art form that requires practice, discipline, and perseverance.
UCF has very nearly completed it's new 10,000 seat basketball arena on campus, but for the remainder of this season, the UCF basketball team will play in it's current arena, which is much smaller. One of the interesting things about it is that there are no seats behind either basket. There are, however, walkways with railing on the second story just behind the basket. And, if you are willing to stand or lean for the whole game, there isn't a better seat in the house. You are literally right on top of the players.
Which brings us back to heckling. From this vantage point, the players can hear everything you shout, even when the place is pretty loud. For me, attendance has been transformed from an exercise in observation to one of participation. The things I say can be heard by the players (they are human beings remember) and can have an effect. Perhaps I'll write in another post my thoughts about the proper way to heckle, which are still developing.
But, standing behind the railing above the basket is a pretty noticeable place to be, especially if you are shouting various comments the whole game. And so I've noticed that people will suddenly appear behind us, tap us on the shoulder, and say "hi". They never did that when I was just clapping in the seats.
Tutor Take Two
Last Friday, as will hopefully become my custom, I ventured back to UHS for another tutoring session. I skipped a week because the previous teacher, who I thought I had done a really good job for, and who told me he was glad to have me, and who said he would email me about the next good time to come, has not returned my emails. (Perhaps I wasn't as helpful as it seemed.)
Thankfully, there is another teacher who wanted some help for an Algebra I class at the ninth grade center (the campus where I went to middle school). I was late getting there, which was bad since the teacher I was helping actually had a substitute on Friday, and said she could only hang around for a few minutes in the morning before she had to go. By the time I rolled in, only the substitute was left.
If you seem to remember that days with a substitute teacher were days of lawlessness and chaos, you are remembering correctly. The substitute might as well not have been there. After asking the class if any one needed help (which predictably was answered by blank stares), I was about to abort the mission and just go to work to try again next week. But as I was starting for the door the real teacher arrived for one last check of her classroom.
Suddenly, there was order. Two students were instructed, not asked, to go to the media center, where I thought we had a productive session. I got a permanent badge and everything.
I did completely miss the bell, and so had to try and wrangle a pass for the students so they wouldn't get in trouble in their next classes. This is sort of fun.
Thankfully, there is another teacher who wanted some help for an Algebra I class at the ninth grade center (the campus where I went to middle school). I was late getting there, which was bad since the teacher I was helping actually had a substitute on Friday, and said she could only hang around for a few minutes in the morning before she had to go. By the time I rolled in, only the substitute was left.
If you seem to remember that days with a substitute teacher were days of lawlessness and chaos, you are remembering correctly. The substitute might as well not have been there. After asking the class if any one needed help (which predictably was answered by blank stares), I was about to abort the mission and just go to work to try again next week. But as I was starting for the door the real teacher arrived for one last check of her classroom.
Suddenly, there was order. Two students were instructed, not asked, to go to the media center, where I thought we had a productive session. I got a permanent badge and everything.
I did completely miss the bell, and so had to try and wrangle a pass for the students so they wouldn't get in trouble in their next classes. This is sort of fun.
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