Weird

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For lack of a better place, I am sticking this in my OCD category, but I’m not entirely sure it’s OCD-related.

As a kid, I used to lay awake nights wondering — ruminating over — why am I me instead of someone else? Why do I look like I do? Why has genetics conspired just so to create me instead of someone else? All of which leads to the big question: why am I here?

The odds against anyone of us actually getting to the point of being here are pretty astronomical. I would think about that and it would really freak me out.

I was driving down Mount Vernon Hwy. today after having been unsuccessful at finding the SAT testing site where I needed to fill out my I-9 so I can grade SAT essays all locked up. All of a sudden, I wondered why in the hell I was me, and why I looked like I do. I mean, when I am talking to someone, I am not really conscious of how I look. I don’t think about it much. But they associate my appearance with me. It is an integral part of who I am. It’s how they identify I am me instead of someone else. But not me. I don’t identify myself by my appearance. I identify others by theirs. And then I thought how unfair that it is we are judged by our appearances. I mean, I am stuck with gray hair, skinny arms and legs, and glasses. Sure, I could dye my hair, but then I’d have to keep doing it. I’m not sure if there is anything I can do about my arms and legs. I guess I could wear contacts. I have no problems with that. But ultimately, you still look how you look. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t have any major problems with my appearance. I really don’t. The grande caramel Frappuccinos are going to my waist, hips, and thighs, but that’s the price you pay for sucking down fat-laden beverages on a near daily basis (430 calories per drink, 140 calories from fat — oy vey). Of course, I’m convinced they’re laced with pure crack, or I wouldn’t have to have one all the time.

So. Back on task, Ms. Huff.

What I was saying before I digressed over the frozen coffee is that I was driving down the road and the childhood thought about my identity resurfaced. It was like I suddenly popped out of my body, looked at me, and realized I was in that body, and it didn’t seem connected to me at all. It occurred to me that my body wasn’t part of me. I also recall thinking I am always looking out of my eyes, and I don’t see things in any way except mine — not really. So it’s kind of hard to look in the mirror and connect that person with me. I can’t explain this very well, but it was jarring. I really did kind of freak out.

I shouldn’t freaking read The Catcher in the Rye anymore. Holden Caulfield is not someone with whom I’d like to identify.


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Sharing Gifts

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One of the Hebrew teachers approached me several days ago. She is worried about her writing in English and wondered if she could sit in on some of my 9th grade classes (when we’re doing grammar). I said, sure!

This morning, she showed me how to write my name in Hebrew. She also taught me how vowels work. She said that “Dana” isn’t a Hebrew name, by which she meant, I believe, that the long A sound doesn’t exist. Something approximating “Dina” is the closest thing. I can’t tell the letters apart. The Hebrew letters all look the same to me. It doesn’t help that Hebrew runs right to left, either. But I really want to learn it. At least a little bit. It’s a remarkable language.


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Ghosts

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Do you remember when you were a kid, and for the first time, you heard about something really awful happening to someone close to your age? There are two stories I remember from childhood. Maybe because they were never solved.

The first was the disappearance of Beth Miller. She lived in the pretty Colorado mountain town of Idaho Springs. She vanished one day while jogging. In 1994, she was legally declared dead. She’s been missing more than 20 years, now. I remember when we would drive through the mountains, I would look up, searching the caves from my vantage point in the car, and I would try to see if she was in one of them — a cold hand, carelessly flung over a ridge, revealing her resting place; a shock of white-blond hair riffled by a breeze. Because, you see, I was sure she was dead. About 10 years ago, a Florida woman claimed to be Beth Miller, but it was a hoax. A few months ago, investigators announced their intention to test mitochondrial DNA from a hair sample taken from decomposed remains and determine if they belong to Miller.

The other case that I think of every now and then — the one that terrified me most as a child — was the murder of the Bennett family. That happened in my hometown, Aurora, Colorado. It is believed the family were bludgeoned to death with a hammer. The mother, Debra, and older daughter, Melissa, were raped as well. The lone survivor was three-year-old Vanessa, who still lives in Colorado and (thankfully) has no memory of the attack. It was an awful crime. It was hard to feel safe after that. It happened so close to home. It’s kind of morbid, but I have rarely picked up a hammer without thinking about this crime. It is still unsolved, though with the advent of DNA analysis, they may one day be able to match the killer with samples taken from the crime scene.

These two crimes created ghosts in my childhood — an awareness that the world can be very dangerous, and bad guys are not always caught. But the ray of hope is that science has found a way. I wonder how many ghosts like these DNA will finally put to rest.


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Treasure

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I think everyone likes that old pat on the back now and then. I arrived at work very early this morning. I was fixing myself some International Coffee in the teacher’s lounge when Nanci walked in and greeted me. She said she had a very pleasant conference with the parent of one of my students. They were discussing his grades; Nanci was running down the list teacher by teacher. Then, when she mentioned me, my student’s mom said, “Oh, he just loves Mrs. Huff.” Well, gee. I’m fond of that little guy, too. And Nanci said she wanted to share something with me… maybe it was a little unprofessional, but ah, she was just going to go ahead.

You might recall that when I was interviewing for this job, Nanci was very honest and said that she was seriously considering another person. Basically, she had it narrowed down to the two of us. She said this morning that the other candidate was very bubbly and exuberant. Well, that’s Nanci all over. She has boundless energy. Anyway, she told me she sent both of us to Sim. Maybe even the same day. The idea was that she needed his help to decide. She told me that she said she was looking for a good anchor for the English department. She said she had me pegged as quiet. Maybe the first few days or so, students wouldn’t exactly have me figured out. Soon, however, they would realize… how do I say this? I guess that I may seem sort of quiet, but underneath there is this great teacher. She didn’t come out and put it this way, but the gist of what Nanci was saying is that she needed a foil — someone to bring some balance to the department. She may be the principal, but she considers herself an English teacher at heart and always will. So I’m feeling very pleased. Nanci lets slip that the other candidate graduated from Yale (for crying out loud!). “But I chose you, Mrs. Huff,” Nanci added.

She chose me.

I e-mailed her later, thanking her for making my week. She replied that I was becoming “one of [their] treasures.”


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Blogcritics

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You know, I have been writing for Blogcritics for a little over a week. I thought the idea had some merit: a forum for your above-average writer to express his or her opinion about media, music, books, and video. It has become clear to me that the editors will tolerate any sort of poor writing and immature posturing on the part of their writers. I doubt many visitors to the site can possibly take our opinions seriously, considering the writing is rife with grammar/usage/mechanical errors and expletives. It reminds me some days of a drunken frat party, laden with testosterone, and stinking of… well, shit.


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Founding Brothers

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A crossposting of a review I wrote at Blogcritics:

Strolling through the library shelves, I found this double-DVD and remembered I had wanted to see it when the History Channel originally broadcast it. For that reason, along with the added benefit that I might learn something of use to pass on to my students when I teach Revolutionary Literature in a week or so, I borrowed Founding Brothers, the companion to Joseph J. Ellis’s Pulitzer Prize-winning book.

This outstanding documentary examines several of the revolutionaries’ impact on the framing of our country. The familiar history is delivered, along with interesting commentary from historical biographers and professors. I found their insights and tangents into lesser-known history very intriguing. Especially informative was the examination of views on slavery. Thomas Jefferson emerges as an enigmatic figure, full of contradictions: outspoken against the evils of slavery, while owning slaves. I found it interesting that the documentary discussed the scandal involving Jefferson and Sally Hemings, but did not mention the DNA testing done several years ago on Hemings’ descendants that indicates they are most likely also descendants of Jefferson himself.

Benjamin Franklin is conspicuous by his near-absence from the program, which chooses to focus on the first few decades after the Revolutionary War. While he was instrumental in the Revolution, Franklin died in 1790, which this documentary would have us believe did not enable him to make much of a mark on the construction of this new government. However, I did learn much about Alexander Hamilton, who is often glossed over in our American History books in school because he wasn’t president. His impact on America was much greater than I had previously realized. Madison is discussed with regard to his support of Jefferson, but no mention of his presidency itself occurs. Perhaps time constraints prevented such details from inclusion, and I admit that I have not read Ellis’s book, which may have mentioned Franklin and Madison in more detail.

With regard to voice characterization, I must single out Rob Lowe as James Madison. He affected a Southern drawl that sounded completely genuine, and imbued Madison with a humble demeanor that I found enchanting. I also enjoyed Michael York’s rendering of Alexander Hamilton. Clearly, that Shakespearean training has been useful for much more than Austin Powers movies!

The most poignant segment in the series was the discussion of the letters exchanged between John Adams and Thomas Jefferson for the last fourteen years of their lives. They had a remarkable friendship, interrupted for a time by political rivalry. As the the voices of James Woods (Adams) and Peter Coyote (Jefferson) related the exchange that followed upon the death of Adams’ wife of 54 years, Abigail, I was moved to tears. Most history buffs may know that Adams and Jefferson died on the same day — July 4, 1826 — on the 50th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence. Many of you may also remember that Adams’ last words were “Jefferson survives.” While this was not true, Adams could not have known, as Jefferson had died only hours before, asking “Is it the fourth?” The narrator of the series remarked that Adams was “wrong for the moment, but right for the ages.”


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The Scarlet Letter, or Jesus Loves You

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Another short week as we wrap up the Jewish holidays (for now). We had a short week with Rosh Hashanah, a regular week with a half-day on Friday before Yom Kippur, a short week last week for Sukkot, and a short week this week for Shemini Atzeret and Simchat Torah. I have been able to get a lot of long-term planning done. I mean, I am on the ball. I know what I’m doing for basically a couple months down the road.

Because of the holidays, the students had long prayers (tefillah), which meant we missed classes. Today, I only taught one class (although it was a double block). It was a great class. We started off reading Jonathan Edwards’ fiery sermon “Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God,” which made those kids glad they’re not Puritan. I had the excellent opportunity to explain some Christian theology — not proselytize, mind. I don’t do that. It was to explain where these Puritans are coming from and what they believe. The students were very interested and asked great questions. We then discussed the first portion of The Scarlet Letter, by Nathaniel Hawthorne. I think once we started discussing it, they warmed to the book. Hester is really a pretty interesting old gal. Discussion of Puritan (and Christian) theology in general continued. We discussed a bit the ways in which religion is still a part of our laws, and it seemed like the discussion really took off. One student brought up Blue Laws, I mentioned the Ten Commandments and sodomy laws, and before you knew it, we were talking about how religion has impacted education and separation of church and state. I gave my opinion, as I’ve stated here recently, about the perfect appropriateness of requiring religious education when one goes to a religious institution, but the complete imappropriateness otherwise, and of course, there were no dissenters in that classroom. They have actually, most of them, been in a position of feeling uncomfortable about being the only Jew in a room full of Christians — of feeling like “the other.” One student shared a particularly appalling story with me.

She said she went to public school in the 5th grade. Her teacher sat her up front, near her desk. On the corner of her desk, she kept a copy of the New Testament and frequently offered to loan it to my student, should she be interested. She also frequently attempted to get her to borrow the Left Behind series books. Bleh. So my poor student felt very uncomfortable, but also afraid to say any thing lest the teacher hold it against her. In short, she was afraid it would affect her grade. Finally, it became unbearable, and my student went to the principal, who, from what I was told, handled the situation properly. But my, oh my. Can you believe it? Put yourself in someone else’s shoes, those of you who have ever been guilty of trying to force your relgious beliefs (or even lack thereof) on someone. What right have any of us to try to undermine what a parent is teaching his/her child about religion? Don’t we keep saying over and over that something like that is best left to the parents? Actually, it reminded me of a story I read recently in the Atlanta Jewish Times.

So this is why I wrote what I wrote about Marilou Braswell. I’ve had some negative feedback about it. No one who will leave a real name and valid e-mail. I got tired of it and closed comments on that entry. I figure that if someone really wants to tell me off, then they’ll just have to e-mail me. So far all anyone’s really done is basically tell me I’m wrong, that I don’t know the facts (I guess the news and UGA also got the facts wrong, if that’s the case), and insult people involved (Jaclyn Steele and someone named Demon Damon that I don’t even remember — and that was from an actual e-mail). Oh, and they shared with me that I can learn the truth of the matter at helpmarilou.com. I don’t want to be accused of not giving equal time, so check it out if you must, but please God, don’t tell them I sent you. The last thing I need is more anti-Semitic evangelicals telling me I’m wrong, Jaclyn’s going to hell, and I’m disseminating lies for the uneducated masses who, you know, all rely on me for their information, and all that crap.

Actually, I had a great day. I really did.


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Standing By Words

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I don’t allow anonymous comments on this site, but anonymous cowards usually find a way to comment here anyway. Thing is, I don’t have a measure in place that keeps people from posting a fake e-mail address. I require that they leave an e-mail address, but I have no way of forcing someone to provide a real one. Every single time I’ve had a comment wherein someone disagrees with me, they have failed to provide a real, valid e-mail address. I have to wonder why. I’m not really that scary. Why do they fear to back up what they say? They seem to be more interested in playing some silly, schoolyard game of slap and run. That’s just ridiculous. If you have something to say, have the courage to say it and stand by it. I can’t take you seriously if you are too afraid to engage in intellectual debate. I always post my real e-mail address when I make a comment, and to date, the boogie-man has never bitten me. If you believe in something strongly enough to say it, to post it on someone’s site, own up to it and invite discussion. Not to do that is simply cowardice. Frankly, if you hide behind fake names and e-mails, it makes it look like you’re not really sure of yourself, that you feel your position is weak. Stand by your words.


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