For those of you who went to college, unless you were some sort of wonder child, you had to take a freshman composition class. It was hell. I never realized there were so many grammar rules, syntax constructions, parts of speech, and punctuation guidelines they never taught me in high school, or maybe they did and I just did not pay attention (but I don’t think they did). Today I still fight the problem that the way I talk should not be the way I write.
Somehow I muddled through, and even ended up teaching English in high school for a few years, before they fired me on a trumped up “reduction in force” scheme. The truth was I made the mistake of taking on the superintendant, otherwise known as Boss Hogg of Grant County, over a contract dispute. The dispute was we had a contract for the district to pay me to coach baseball and he was not paying. My big mistake was to think I ought to be paid, and so I took him on and won. The next year, even after they offered and I signed a tenured contract, I found myself “laid off.”
All things considered, they did me a favor, because I hated teaching. Not only was I not very good at it but I had utter contempt for the people who ran the schools and the fraud they were perpetrating on the trusting public in general. Trust me when I tell you that paying for our public schools is like buying penny stocks; you can invest billions but will only get back pennies in return.
Parents in our society are as much to blame as the many ticks and leaches that are educators and administrators in our public school systems. For too many parents, school is the place they can send their children for up to 12 hours a day (if the kid plays sports) and not have to be bothered by actually raising the child themselves. To be fair, many mothers and fathers both work in jobs and careers; they need to work to support the family at some subsistence level to which they have become accustomed or aspire. They cannot work and at the same time be at home to raise and school their children. On the other hand, it becomes very convenient to put the kid on the bus, or drop him at the front door of the school, and let the teachers and administrators deal with him all day. Raising a child is hard work that lasts 24 hours a day for about 18 years. Far too many parents duck as much of this time as they can by dumping it onto the schools. We have the most expensive childcare system in the world.
Rich folks do it, too, by sending their kids to private and military schools. Somehow, though, they seem to demand and get a better return on their investment in most cases. Not so in public schools. My first father in law was an English teacher for several decades following his stint in WWII. I know he had a poor opinion of most of his fellow teachers and the schools in which he taught. He told me once that smart students learned in spite of everything that schools did to hinder them, while all the others who were not so smart were just grist for the mill.
I must take a second here to be fair and acknowledge that there are a large number of good, caring and effective teachers. It is easy in any school to single out one or two that are clearly incompetent or ineffective or simply gave up. Once you get past plucking these low hanging rotten fruit, however, it becomes much more difficult to say that the majority of the teachers are no good. What make our schools so bad are the way the entire system is set up and the attitudes of the people running them.
Blame, if you must, all of the 20th century education theorists, who could not have done a worse job of getting it all wrong. Also, blame our society to the extent that we want the schools to raise our kids, but we do not really want them to discipline them or even hold them accountable. Who wants to see their precious Johnny told he is a failure, even if Johnny is a lazy drug saturated loser? That is the point: nobody is allowed to admit and treat Johnny for what he really is, so we all pretend that something else is the cause. Naturally, the teachers do not want to have their salaries and performance ratings tied to Johnny’s success on tests. So now, we have this vicious little closed loop going where failure breeds failure that causes yet more failure, but everyone involved is calling it success.
Our school systems are a reflection of a more far spread and insipid problem. We do not want to hold people responsible for their own success or failure. We, and I mean a large portion of our society, don’t like the idea that some people will fail, or have miserable lives, or live in poverty, or be unhappy because they just cannot compete very well. We have begun to think that competition is bad. We do not like the idea that a person fails because he does not have the ability. We do not like the idea that a fellow achieves little or nothing because he does not have the intelligence, cleverness, skill, willingness to work hard or accept responsibility for his own results. Rather, many have started thinking that the fault is competition itself. It is the cause of unhappiness and lack of success. If there were no competition, no one would fail! Progressives and liberals love this idea.
Our geniuses in charge of the education system of this country truly believe that competition is bad. Except for sports, of course. Sport is the only place where our students should compete. Indeed, we substitute all that intellectual competition with athletic endeavors. That is so because, and you will love this part, sports are optional! If you do not want to play sports because you are uncoordinated, unskilled, clumsy, slow, fat, or lazy, then you do not have to do so. The competition of sports is, in other words, completely voluntary. The individual can opt out of sports and so opt out of the competition.
But real life? Hey, nobody can opt out of that. Therefore, we have to make it fair for all, which means we have to eliminate competition in all those things that we cannot opt out of, like going to school and getting grades. Life, you see, is not voluntary, not like sports, right?
Our public schools and our leading educational theorists have been going down this path for decades. I don’t want to beat this horse anymore, lest it die, but you can take my word for it that this is the basic philosophy of our school systems in America today. Just as importantly, it is proving quite convenient for the educators and administrators, too. Why do you think they are so fired up against standards testing and having their appraisals and pay tied to student results? It is not just that they are afraid of what Johnny’s results will do to them. Rather, they do not want to have to compete with each other for their salaries like the rest of us in America do.
Enough.
For the last 8 years or so I have been slowly teaching myself basic computer programming. Frankly, I am a hack, and probably do not have any skill at all. However, I have learned how to write Visual Basic for Applications code for Microsoft Excel, Word and Access. I created and currently administer several large databases that are independent applications in their own right. I’m not saying they would stand up to close scrutiny by real programmers, but they are in use by a couple of hundred people, have saved hundreds of thousands of dollars, provide something that was not available before their creation, eased the work load of many, and function just fine. I am a little proud of them.
The thing about writing programming code is that it will not allow a single error. Get one comma wrong and it will not run. Misspell a single word and it will crash. Substitute a parenthesis for a bracket and it goes into an endless loop and you cannot make it stop short of turning the computer off. Think about that. Every bit of syntax, grammar, spelling and punctuation must be perfect. You cannot make a single error, or it will not work. How many syntax, punctuation, grammar or spelling errors have I committed in this rant so far? If the same sort of software programming standard were applied in my college freshmen composition class, I would have failed. I probably still would.
In programming the first hurdle you have to pass (I have never taken a class, but I bet this is the way it goes) is your code must run and it must produce what it is supposed to produce. In the most basic example, used in all the beginning books I have read, the output should read, “Hello, World!” If it says “Hell Whorl”, you failed. If nothing showed up on the screen, you really blew it!
Once you get to the “Hello, World!” part, then we need to look to see if you got there in the most efficient way possible. This is where I would fail if an expert looked at my code. I am likely to take 12 lines to do something that can be done in three. In terms of CPU cycles, memory usage, and so on, three lines is much better than 12. If it were a football game, my team would lose with the score 27 to 7 in favor of a real programmer. In the real world, CPU cycles and memory usage cost money. Big money. Good programmers, the ones who can write the most efficient code, are highly sought after.
Wow. Amazing how that ugly competition thing just reared its head.
We have all read about those kids who can hack a video game, or the school network system, or their cell phone. They can write amazing software for all sorts of things, some vicious like viruses that shut down the planet and others that are improvements on the originals. My son went to school and was friends with several kids who could do this stuff.
The thing is, they did not gain this knowledge or learn these skills in any class they ever took in public school. Instead, they taught themselves and each other. My first father in law was right: they did this in spite of the school. I wonder how well these kids are going to do in real life. I like their chances.
Friday, June 11, 2010
Thursday, June 3, 2010
The Unperfect Game Redux
As I wrote last night immediately following the game, I was angry. Me and millions of others, too, no doubt.
As history making as the blown call will be, I think I am almost as surprised by the events reported after the game. It appears that the umpire who blew the call was genuinely upset once he saw the replays. He agreed, on the record, that he got it wrong. He even asked permission of the team to talk to the pitcher, Gallaraga, which he did and apologized to him for his mistake.
I don't think I can ever remember a major league umpire admitting a mistake, much less apologizing to the player affected by it.
As I wrote last night, the umpire—his last name is Joyce—will go down in history as the man who stole the perfect game. One hopes that history will also recall that he was a big enough man to admit the error immediately and to appear to the reporters to be distraught about it.
Yankees manager, Joe Girardi, suggested that perhaps the league should look at the play and reverse the call. The effect would be to reinstate the perfect game. His point is that it would not affect the outcome of the game, but would be the right thing to do. It would mean that the 28th and next batter, Trevor Crowe, who grounded out, would lose his official at bat, which I suspect he would be most happy to pretend never happened. However, Jason Donald, who was called safe at first was credited with a hit, and that would be turned into an out; statistically he would be hurt by the reversal since it would lower his batting average as opposed to it being raised by the call.
I’m not sure how I feel about this suggestion. Part of me says the league should do it. Gallaraga earned it and deserves it. Donald should be out and not have credit for a hit he didn't earn. On the other hand, I’m not a big fan of rewriting history. As the saying goes, what is done is done.
No matter what, there are going to be asterisks all over this game.
As history making as the blown call will be, I think I am almost as surprised by the events reported after the game. It appears that the umpire who blew the call was genuinely upset once he saw the replays. He agreed, on the record, that he got it wrong. He even asked permission of the team to talk to the pitcher, Gallaraga, which he did and apologized to him for his mistake.
I don't think I can ever remember a major league umpire admitting a mistake, much less apologizing to the player affected by it.
As I wrote last night, the umpire—his last name is Joyce—will go down in history as the man who stole the perfect game. One hopes that history will also recall that he was a big enough man to admit the error immediately and to appear to the reporters to be distraught about it.
Yankees manager, Joe Girardi, suggested that perhaps the league should look at the play and reverse the call. The effect would be to reinstate the perfect game. His point is that it would not affect the outcome of the game, but would be the right thing to do. It would mean that the 28th and next batter, Trevor Crowe, who grounded out, would lose his official at bat, which I suspect he would be most happy to pretend never happened. However, Jason Donald, who was called safe at first was credited with a hit, and that would be turned into an out; statistically he would be hurt by the reversal since it would lower his batting average as opposed to it being raised by the call.
I’m not sure how I feel about this suggestion. Part of me says the league should do it. Gallaraga earned it and deserves it. Donald should be out and not have credit for a hit he didn't earn. On the other hand, I’m not a big fan of rewriting history. As the saying goes, what is done is done.
No matter what, there are going to be asterisks all over this game.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
The Unperfect Game
This is just a quick post. It relates to my first post on this blog about using instant replay to verify, and in some cases, replace umpires and referees.
Armando Galarraga just pitched a perfect game. 27 up and 27 down. Except that an umpire robbed him of it by calling the 27th batter safe at first when that batter, according to all the replay angles, was clearly out. What a crock of shit!
I watched the game live and saw it all go down in real time. I was a baseball player in my younger years, and even did some umpire work. I know that the speed of the game and even the pop-pop of the play at first can be hard to call. But, this wasn't hard. The ump just blew it. Period.
I don't want to sound like a conspiracy nut, or anything like that. But, as I watched the coaches and players of the Tigers arguing the call, I thought I saw a look on the face of the umpire that said,"I am the law. I am never wrong. You have no right to question me."
Of course, all of America is going to question him. And, anyone who watches the replays will conclude that he flat blew it. He did.
Naturally, many of those who comment will question the umpire's integrity. There will inevitably be questions about his stake in the outcome, or, much worse, his own ego demanding that he break up what would be only the 21st perfect game in the entire history of major league baseball, or a span of more than 100 years. The question many will ask is did he think he was more important than history in the making, and, even if it meant that he had to make a bad call, at least he would get the attention and not some hot shot young pitcher. "Take that youngster! You think you're so all that, well now you know differently."
The worst part of the whole ordeal is that if baseball had a replay system in place, they could have corrected this terrible, back asswards, ego induced call.
Still, I have to feel sorry, a little bit, for the umpire. He is going to go down into baseball history as the ump who blew the perfect game. I thought I heard that he had been doing umpiring in the majors for 20 years. Well, guess what, no one is going to remember him for the 20 years he got the calls right, if he ever did. They are going to remember him as the guy who got the one call that made history wrong.
If the attitude I thought I saw on his face afterward is correct, he deserves all the villification he's going to get. Umpires are like judges. Once you put them above everyone else, and make their calls final, they pretty much better be perfect, or else.
Armando Galarraga just pitched a perfect game. 27 up and 27 down. Except that an umpire robbed him of it by calling the 27th batter safe at first when that batter, according to all the replay angles, was clearly out. What a crock of shit!
I watched the game live and saw it all go down in real time. I was a baseball player in my younger years, and even did some umpire work. I know that the speed of the game and even the pop-pop of the play at first can be hard to call. But, this wasn't hard. The ump just blew it. Period.
I don't want to sound like a conspiracy nut, or anything like that. But, as I watched the coaches and players of the Tigers arguing the call, I thought I saw a look on the face of the umpire that said,"I am the law. I am never wrong. You have no right to question me."
Of course, all of America is going to question him. And, anyone who watches the replays will conclude that he flat blew it. He did.
Naturally, many of those who comment will question the umpire's integrity. There will inevitably be questions about his stake in the outcome, or, much worse, his own ego demanding that he break up what would be only the 21st perfect game in the entire history of major league baseball, or a span of more than 100 years. The question many will ask is did he think he was more important than history in the making, and, even if it meant that he had to make a bad call, at least he would get the attention and not some hot shot young pitcher. "Take that youngster! You think you're so all that, well now you know differently."
The worst part of the whole ordeal is that if baseball had a replay system in place, they could have corrected this terrible, back asswards, ego induced call.
Still, I have to feel sorry, a little bit, for the umpire. He is going to go down into baseball history as the ump who blew the perfect game. I thought I heard that he had been doing umpiring in the majors for 20 years. Well, guess what, no one is going to remember him for the 20 years he got the calls right, if he ever did. They are going to remember him as the guy who got the one call that made history wrong.
If the attitude I thought I saw on his face afterward is correct, he deserves all the villification he's going to get. Umpires are like judges. Once you put them above everyone else, and make their calls final, they pretty much better be perfect, or else.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
A Letter to My Nephew
Several years ago my nephew, who was in the Army Reserves, was being deployed to Afghanistan. I couldn't make the trip from Ohio to Oregon to attend his going away party. They asked me if I could write up some memory that he might take with him instead. I did that very thing. I was thinking about it the other day, and thought you might find it entertaining. So here is the "memory" I wrote for my nephew David.
I’m not sure what you write to a man who is about to go off to a foreign land to serve his country in war. I suppose the obvious thing to say is keep your head down and do the right thing. But, what sort of memories can I supply that lends support to this idea? There is one that I still enjoy remembering.
I remember a boy of 11 or so sitting in a boat with his father and uncle (me) as his grandfather steered them down the Owyhee river near Leslie Gulch. We were headed to the next canyon to hunt for chukars, a wild partridge that lives in the desert hills. The boy was clutching his first .22, a Marlin tube magazine semi-automatic rifle, watching the ridges and hillsides carefully for the chance to shoot at something meaningful. At his side was his younger sister nagging him about anything and everything that came to mind, as she was often wont to do.
As the boat came around a bend, would you believe two coyotes appeared on the long, steep sloping mountainside at least a hundred yards or more away. They paused to watch the boat go by.
For some reason, call it the instinct of the wild, suddenly these coyotes must have realized they were looking at a killer on the river. They both turned and ran diagonally upslope in the same direction the boat was traveling, their hind feet coming up past their ears in their haste. Our lad, finally finding something useful and heroic to shoot at, filled the air with lead. As the bullets hit the hillside, dust flew up all around the two galloping creatures. Those little clouds of dust chased those coyotes for a long way up that slope.
He ran out of bullets 18 shots later and could only stare as the two beasts became tiny specks far up the mountain. His grandfather, father and uncle roared great shouts of approval and exclamations of delight at the show. They praised his prowess and the good shooting that surely had put a lifetime of fright into those two wily creatures.
His sister, once all had calmed down, offered how he might actually have hit one of the coyotes had he only aimed a little better.
Personally, I like that he didn’t shoot one of those coyotes, since the story would not be nearly as much fun if he had. On the other hand, that young boy was ready and willing when the chance offered, and I can’t think of a better testimony than that for what he is soon embarking to do in Afghanistan. But, if in this new adventure he should be faced with a similar circumstance, I’m with his sister: aim better.
Uncle Mike
I’m not sure what you write to a man who is about to go off to a foreign land to serve his country in war. I suppose the obvious thing to say is keep your head down and do the right thing. But, what sort of memories can I supply that lends support to this idea? There is one that I still enjoy remembering.
I remember a boy of 11 or so sitting in a boat with his father and uncle (me) as his grandfather steered them down the Owyhee river near Leslie Gulch. We were headed to the next canyon to hunt for chukars, a wild partridge that lives in the desert hills. The boy was clutching his first .22, a Marlin tube magazine semi-automatic rifle, watching the ridges and hillsides carefully for the chance to shoot at something meaningful. At his side was his younger sister nagging him about anything and everything that came to mind, as she was often wont to do.
As the boat came around a bend, would you believe two coyotes appeared on the long, steep sloping mountainside at least a hundred yards or more away. They paused to watch the boat go by.
For some reason, call it the instinct of the wild, suddenly these coyotes must have realized they were looking at a killer on the river. They both turned and ran diagonally upslope in the same direction the boat was traveling, their hind feet coming up past their ears in their haste. Our lad, finally finding something useful and heroic to shoot at, filled the air with lead. As the bullets hit the hillside, dust flew up all around the two galloping creatures. Those little clouds of dust chased those coyotes for a long way up that slope.
He ran out of bullets 18 shots later and could only stare as the two beasts became tiny specks far up the mountain. His grandfather, father and uncle roared great shouts of approval and exclamations of delight at the show. They praised his prowess and the good shooting that surely had put a lifetime of fright into those two wily creatures.
His sister, once all had calmed down, offered how he might actually have hit one of the coyotes had he only aimed a little better.
Personally, I like that he didn’t shoot one of those coyotes, since the story would not be nearly as much fun if he had. On the other hand, that young boy was ready and willing when the chance offered, and I can’t think of a better testimony than that for what he is soon embarking to do in Afghanistan. But, if in this new adventure he should be faced with a similar circumstance, I’m with his sister: aim better.
Uncle Mike
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
