Tales from the Front Lines

Ever since I was a wee tot, I enjoyed coloring. The smell of new crayons in the traditional crayola box is just intoxicating. The sight of a 64 count box with build in sharpener? Hon-ney! Pass them right over. I glance over pens, markers, paper, but a box of crayons stops me in my tracks. And, I'll have you all know, you are supposed to color INSIDE the lines. Yes, you are. Yes. You non-conformists and free thinkers, line up over on the left. I'll deal with you all later. I would carefully, painstakingly color inside the lines, shading so carefully. I used to have an occassional friend over who would color in a completely HEATHEN manner (no offense to my friends, the heathens). She would not only apply improper pressure, nubbing up the tip, but she would actually tear the paper away from my crayon!!!! and color with the whole STICK, in broad, sweeping gestures. I knew that she would come to no good with her hedonistic tendencies. I think she became some sort of impressionistic ...

No not the group, Mercy Me, who did the incredible "I Can Only Imagine" (fabulous song, btw, do listen if you get the chance), but more of "Mercy! Mercy me!" in a wistful Southern exclamatory manner. I've just graded my students' first tests. Now, I've matured quite a bit as a professor. As a fledgling prof, I took a fiendish delight in grading, wielding my red pencil like a scalpel, slashing through ignorant answers and incomplete essays with all the finnesse and fervor of a Crusader. "wrong, wrong, Wrong!", I'd mutter and shake my head. Now, I've swung the other way. And I ask myself the tough questions as a teacher. Why are they wrong? Did they not study? Did they not listen? or, and most haunting of all, Did I not teach? Communication, I instruct my students, is a two way street. Each party is responsible for their portion of giving or receiving a message. My students did not do well. Not horrible, not a bloodbath, but I know...

I've been repeatedly pestered by folks to start a blog. A what? A Blog?! What the heck? (this portrays my helplessly antiquated notions of technology, I thought blog was initially a made up word. Like fax. Yes, I'm hanging my head in shame) So, here I am, having navigated the inital waters of cyberspace. My life is remarkable, and unremarkable all at the same time. What with children, a husband, a demon beast of a dog, and a burgeoning academic professorship, I've got ALOT on my plate. And plenty of "front lines" to speak from. My basic philosophy, borrowed from someone much cleverer than I, is "If you can't be a inspiring example, be a terrible warning". I've been both, I'm afraid. And, so, perhaps have you.