Not Quite Sublime In The Schools

I don't want to always harp on the bad stuff in schools. It's just that there's a lot of that at the school from which I'll soon resign. Still, some of it's not so bad. There is the ridiculous and, well, not the sublime, but stuff not quite so ridiculous.

Nine class days remain in the school year. Two districts are sending new kids tomorrow. I'll have each kid four or five times (classes meet every other day). Imagine how much I'll help each one learn. The school just wants these kids gone somewhere, anywhere. I understand, but it's a lousy thing to dump kids that way.

A kid in my class was so passed out I couldn't rouse him for the next class. I asked another student to shake him vigorously. Last week I asked why he comes to school just to pass out. He said, "so I can pass." Oh, well in that case.

He let out a snore at one point and another kid caught my eye. He shook his head. I shrugged and smiled. We know the sleeper is stoned and hungover. We sympathize. Beyond that, I know the sleeper is sure he's a failure. He's trying to escape from that. He's not a bad kid, just in a coma most of the time.

A fellow teacher went on an adventure doing what he most enjoys and came back to school abuzz. His adventure had nothing to do with teaching. I asked, "did you tell everyone there that you hate your job?" He had. "Did you say you're looking for new work?" He shook his head. He hates his job but is afraid to leave. I felt the same for years. He'll figure it out when he figures it out. I hope it's soon.

A friend warned me about my new job: "You won't have summers off." That was my biggest stumbling block, but I stumbled no more than a few seconds. I'll endure the loss. I'm not longing for summer vacation anyway. Instead, I'm eager to dig in. I've needed summers off because I'm so burned out by teaching. Work I want to do may be better than having time off. Ain't that a kick in the pants?

A young teacher asked me about a kid's reading ability. This happens often. Most folks want to know my thoughts so they can tailor instruction for the kid, but she seemed eager to gawk at how dumb the kid is and commiserate over how tough that makes her job. The kid reads at second grade level but has high school exams soon. She wants to feel bad for herself and have me agree with her. I feel for her, but only because she shouldn't be a teacher. It's no use playing at teaching when you don't like kids or yourself. I'm getting out of teaching in part because it's harder to enjoy working with the kids due to the structure and management of the school. Any teacher who doesn't like kids ought to leave. She thinks she just doesn't like these kids, but it's deeper than that. I'm not sure when she'll figure that out.

A teacher down the hall mentioned that no one emptied her garbage Friday. It rotted and ripened over the weekend. She pulled the can out into the hall and mentioned it. Mentioned. She didn't complain or blame anyone. She sprayed room freshener while I hauled the garbage to the dumpster. No fuss, no muss, no problem. I love that in a colleague. I love that in anyone.

I wish I could point to something at school more sublime than that, but I don't believe much of that happens there anymore. It's not all bad, though. There were good kids in every class and we some interesting stuff. There are only nine days of classes left and I'm so excited about my new job, I don't need summer vacation. That right there just might be sublime. It's close enough for me.

Workflowy: A Good Tool

This is not a life hack. I'm not against life hacks per se, but productivity is overrated. I prefer a little inefficiency. I want to describe a tool, not a life hack.

Choose tools carefully. Nicholas Carr writes, "a tool that simply smooths and oils our way, that speeds us to the execution of an impulsion has a deadening effect" (qtd in "Productivity And The Joy Of Doing Things The Hard Way" by Rob Walker). Wendell Berry suggests nine rules for choosing new tools:

1. The new tool should be cheaper than the one it replaces.
2. It should be at least as small in scale as the one it replaces.
3. It should do work that is clearly and demonstrably better than the one it replaces.
4. It should use less energy than the one it replaces.
5. If possible, it should use some form of solar energy, such as that of the body.
6. It should be repairable by a person of ordinary intelligence, provided that he or she has the necessary tools.
7. It should be purchasable and repairable as near to home as possible.
8. It should come from a small, privately-owned shop or store that will take it back for maintenance or repair.
9. It should not replace or disrupt anything good that already exists, and this includes family and community relationships.

My fountain pen, kitchen knives, and coffee grinder have proven to be good tools. Writer: The Internet Typewriter is an excellent distraction-free writing tool for the computer. My running huaraches, turntable, framing hammer, and many others are tools with which I get things done.

Beginning a new job, I need a tool to help me get stuff done. I've rejected Evernote, Google Docs, and OneNote in favor of the ridiculously named Workflowy. It is a good, simple, plain tool that does one thing extremely well instead of trying to do everything.

I came into computing in the eighties with a computer with no hard drive, no mouse, and no graphics. I wrote on a bare-bones editor known as Galahad which is for some reason still available for download. Computing consisted of a blinking cursor on a monochrome screen which is about what Workflowy offers three decades later. It opens to a blank screen on which I simply typed a heading, hit enter, typed the next, and so on.

The first three are job-related. Under Personal I have created two projects by hitting enter to get a new bullet and tabbing so that new bullet becomes a subheading like in an outline. Hitting enter after that created a second subheading.

Both of those projects are broken down into small pieces by hitting enter and tabbing just as before. The resulting structure is intuitive to the point of being obvious.

The subheadings can go on and on and each thing can be struck through on completion. Completed tasks can be hidden or just collapsed out of the way. When I'm done with the amplifier repair I'll mark it done and collapse it's sub-tasks.

A good tool should be simple and intuitive like the iPod with its click wheel or the first car you drove. Those things make sense like pen and paper. We're wired for them. Workflowy feels like that. It makes sense and is useful from the word go.

I've used it for two weeks and want to keep using it. That's a good sign. Workflowy helps me get things done and feels good as I use it. So far, it's a very good tool. Not a life hack but a good tool. I'm all about that.

Problems & What To Do About Them

I spent a while yesterday bleeding. Nothing terrible or unusual. Spring and fall, my nose turns sensitive and bleeds. Yesterday my nose was a bother but cleared up eventually. More problems were to come.

Last night I put a record on my beautiful U-Turn Audio Orbit turntable, connected to a 1977 Kenwood KA-5500 integrated amplifier and Boston Acoustics A70 speakers I bought at Gordon Electronics on Erie Boulevard around 1981. (The record was Sufjan Stevens Illinois for those dying to know.) I was ready to sit with a record, really listen, and feel great. You can guess where this is going.

I turned on the amp and a horrible electrical crack erupted from the right channel speaker and continued. A capacitor in that old amp was discharging willy-nilly. Even with the volume turned down to nothing, cracked loudly enough to terrify the cat who knocked her water bowl onto herself bolting for safety. I shut the amp off and flipped the switch again. Same result. I tried other solutions, but all proved useless and my amp is out of commission until I get it repaired.

Damn it.

I stewed but not too much. Like a bloody nose, it's no big deal. Not like the storm that soon after slammed into the neighborhood. Rain went sideways, pounding the windows, siding, and roof. It's the type of storm that somehow finds its way into our dining room ceiling and runs out of it. Bloody noses are stopped with tissues and patience. Amplifier can be repaired for a hundred bucks. A new roof is in another league. I put a bucket beneath the leak. The storm blew past in half an hour, but lingered in me for hours and invaded my dreams.

I woke thinking about the roof and got good an anxious. Shaking that off for the moment, I considered the amplifier. Thinking about it wasn't enough. I needed to write in order to move from worry toward action. Stating the problem — the amp in the living room is broken so I can't play records — reminded me that only the living room amp is broken. The amp in the kitchen works and can be moved to the living room. I even have a crappy old amp in the storage closet to tide me over in the kitchen. A plan appeared on the page:

1. Take video of the amp malfunctioning to show at the repair shop.
2. Replace the kitchen amp with the crappy old one from the storage closet.
3. Disconnect the living room amp and replace it with the kitchen amp.
4. Play a record and live a life of fulfillment, transcendance, and enlightenment (something like that).
5. Take the living room amp to Ohm Electronics when I have time.

The bloody noses have stopped. The turntable sounds great. Until the next storm, the ceiling isn't leaking. I'll try the amplifier approach with the roof, breaking things down into pieces I can manage. I might be able to turn it into little more than another bother and set to making it better. That's difficult to believe at the moment, but that may have more to do with not having started working the problem than it does with the situation itself. Everything, it turns out, is easier once I begin and almost everything feels simple once I'm done.

I should probably get started. First step, look up some roofers. Have you got any suggestions?

Four Objects, Three Pages

On the desk are four objects and three pages trying to teach me things I struggle to learn. I'm slow and stubborn but keep going. One hopes I'll get there eventually. Where? I'm not sure, but I seem headed toward something.

The first two objects are library books, (Frederic Gros's A Philosophy Of Walking and Wendell Berry's The World Ending Fire. Both are good though neither has me glued to the pages. I want to keep reading but also have the cursed urge to finish them. This pushes me to think past the books and miss out on the experience of reading them. It's just that there are so many other books I want to read. The trouble is, no matter how much I might wish otherwise, I can't finish either book in the next hour. At best (or worst), I'll finish both this week. Four more library books wait on the shelf and at least one will likely be due before I get to it. Opportunity lost! Or something like that.

The next object is a composition book that has failed me as a writers notebook. I used to use these all the time, but the paper is terrible and the covers are made too thin. They are still inexpensive but have grown cheap. I'd retire it but forty blank pages remain and I'm unwilling to waste them. It's not that I'm stuck with the notebook so much as sticking with it to the end which won't come for weeks.

The fourth object is a Uniball Jetstream ballpoint pen. I have a box of them but don't especially enjoy them, but can't stand wasting them. I doubt I'll go through the whole box any time soon, but I've committed to writing this one pen dry. I'm curious how long such a pen lasts but mostly trying to teach myself that I can finish most anything if I keep going. I started the pen with yesterday's morning pages and have written most everything with it. I'll likely be a couple weeks writing it dry. Sigh.

All of this not finishing is discouraging. I want to be done and get where I'm going. These objects are trying to teach me the mistake of such thinking but it's the three pages of paper that are my best teachers. They are this morning's pages, ninety-three lines written in about forty minutes and kept on my desk as a reminder to write this idea, roughed out in them, that some things can't be dispatched in only a few minutes, hours, or even days. But those pages one, two, three aren't the real lesson for me. The lesson is that they aren't pages one, two and three but are instead pages 5,362 through 5,364 since I began this daily practice in 2014.

I began with the idea to write three pages that morning. That's all I could control then. The rest had to wait for the next morning and the next. Had I begun hoping only to reach page 5,364, that would have been foolish and weird. I still have no end number in mind. I let 5,000 pages pass without much notice and will likely do the same at 10,000. If I go twenty years, I'll fill 21,918 pages. At thirty years, it will be 32,877 pages in all. But there's no gain in aiming for those things. It's the process of doing that matters. Just keep going.

I'll finish my books, fill the notebook, write the pen dry. Then there will be more books to read, another notebook to fill, and always more ink. None of it will get done today. I'll have to live with that. Maybe I'll learn from it too.