Dear Mormons of Rochester,
I'd just like to let you know that I did see your cute little advertisement while I was out walking, and I would like to respond.
First of all, I really appreciated that it was done in chalk on the bike path along the river. Using chalk instead of a billboard as your medium made you seem much more friendly and approachable. I won't lie to you - Those commercials where people kept turning out to be - SURPRISE! - Mormon actually made you seem like a creepy bunch.
You see, I don't care what religion people are, and to be honest, all the Mormons I have met seem like perfectly lovely people. Unfortunately, this ad campaign even made me start to think, "Oh my gosh! They're everywhere!" Frankly, it brought up feelings similar to those of people in horror movies when they realize their neighbors are actually zombies.
Your chalk advertisement today, however, was adorable. I even stopped to read the entire thing, and I must say, I am impressed with how neatly and legibly everything was written. Believe me, as a school teacher (and child at heart) I have spent plenty of time trying to work with sidewalk chalk, but you really seem to have it mastered.
Also, your diagrams were clear and uncluttered. I understand that I have to live on earth and then be judged before I can move into the Celestial Kingdom. If I can recall any part of your diagram, I think you can peg that as a success.
You also did a really nice job interspersing your website across that particular section of the bike path. The website ( mormon.org ) is very easy to remember. I even briefly visited it upon returning home. Well done especially with that part of the advertising.
On your website, however, I see a spot where I can "Meet Mormons". I understand being able to type in your age and even your gender (some people only like to speak about religious things with others of the same gender), but ethnicity and "keyword" is a little bit much in my opinion. Others may feel differently, however, and you may have already had a lot of success with that little search box option.
One suggestion I would like to make concerning your sidewalk chalk advertisement is that it would be helpful if all the words on the diagram were facing the same direction. Again, I will say that everything was impeccably neat and legible, but in trying to move around in order to read everything, I almost got hit by a biker. That really isn't very safe. In the future, I would consider choosing one vantage point and really focusing on making everything work with that.
Unfortunately, I would like to decline your offer to become Mormon or even learn about becoming Mormon. You see, I am already Catholic, and I'm not even very good at that. I can only imagine I would be a worse Mormon, and you really aren't looking for people like me, although I appreciate the offer.
So, all in all, even though I generally become somewhat enraged when I encounter such blatant proselytism when going about my daily life, your advertisement was pretty unoffensive. Frankly, I don't like being slapped in the face with other people's beliefs. It is really the same issue I have with certain vegans I have met. I like cheese, ok? Leave me alone. It is kind of the same thing.
To recapitulate, I didn't hate your advertisement on the bike path along the Zumbro River. Despite usually curling my nose up at such things, I did stop and read everything and didn't even become enraged. It was neat, tidy, friendly, and overall you should give the folks responsible a nice pat on the back or high five or something. Still, I am not going to convert to your religion.
Sincerely,
Ivy McDougalhopper
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Monday, June 27, 2011
The Time I Almost Killed Myself But Was Too Afraid To Tell My Parents
I must have been about six years old, although I can't remember for sure. We were living on Crandall, and my uncle and grandmother were living with us at the time, so I feel like my estimation of "about six years old" is fairly accurate. It was Christmas time, which, as we all know, is a magical, wonderful time for Christian children where we eat a lot of junk food, open presents, our family members quarrel in the kitchen, and Elvis Presley plays non-stop for about a week.
Let's face it. Nothing says the birth of Christ like Elvis crooning "Blue Christmas".
Anyway, Elvis was blaring in the living room, the adults were in the kitchen doing things such as cooking, eating, cleaning, etc., and my little brother was otherwise occupied. He was probably doing something like beating the wall with a wooden sword, throwing Tonka trucks, or breaking random things around the house. I was in the living room with Charlie, our dog, and the Christmas tree.
Christmas time is also a time of copious amounts of treats and candies. Besides the cookies and candy my mother and grandmother made from scratch carefully and with love over the course of the entire month, we also bought certain candies. One of those store bought candies was those hard strawberry flavored things wrapped in the plastic to make them look like strawberries. I loved those things, and we only bought them at Christmas.
So I was eating one of those strawberry things in the living room, dancing like a crazy person (an activity I still enjoy as an adult). It was probably the third or fourth time the cassette tape had automatically restarted itself, but Elvis can never get old. Since everyone else was in the kitchen, I had a little more floor space than usual to do my dancing. I started running from one side of the room to the other, doing a dramatic leap with my head bent backwards before turning around.
One of my parents hollered at me from the kitchen to cut it out because I was going to swallow my candy and choke and die. But then they got distracted by something or other, and so I returned to my dance routine. It probably looked like I was running back and forth and when I reached the end of the room, I suddenly convulsed in the air, momentarily writhing in pain. Then I turned around and did it again.
Eventually, on one particularly enthusiastic leap where I bent my head back a little extra and made it more of a whole body move, I inhaled the candy. As I started choking, my first thought was, "not "I'm going to die! I should get help from someone who knows CPR!" My first thought was. "Oh no! They told me to stop or I would choke and die! Now I'm choking and dying! They're going to be so mad I didn't listen!" So I skulked behind the Christmas tree, squatting and trying to clear my airway.
I did manage to start breathing again on my own which was pretty much a Christmas miracle. Of course I was less concerned about my recent near death experience and more concerned with hiding my recent crime of not listening and nearly dying. For the rest of the evening I was extra good, on my guard, and half convinced that the adults in my family could see the candy, which was obviously still lodged firmly inside my lungs.
A couple of months later, I had to get a series of x-rays. I hadn't yet acquired my phobia of doctors and their testing having had few terribly unpleasant medical experiences at that point in my life, but I was still nervous. In my perfectly rational six year old mind, I was positive that the candy would show up on the x-ray. There it would be, red and everything, lodged right into my left lung. The wrapper would probably have re-materialized, making it even easier to identify. The doctors would be confused and write about it in medical journals, but my parents would know exactly what had happened. They would know right away that months earlier I hadn't listened. Months earlier I had choked on a piece of candy and nearly died.
Then they'd probably yell at me.
Let's face it. Nothing says the birth of Christ like Elvis crooning "Blue Christmas".
Anyway, Elvis was blaring in the living room, the adults were in the kitchen doing things such as cooking, eating, cleaning, etc., and my little brother was otherwise occupied. He was probably doing something like beating the wall with a wooden sword, throwing Tonka trucks, or breaking random things around the house. I was in the living room with Charlie, our dog, and the Christmas tree.
Christmas time is also a time of copious amounts of treats and candies. Besides the cookies and candy my mother and grandmother made from scratch carefully and with love over the course of the entire month, we also bought certain candies. One of those store bought candies was those hard strawberry flavored things wrapped in the plastic to make them look like strawberries. I loved those things, and we only bought them at Christmas.
So I was eating one of those strawberry things in the living room, dancing like a crazy person (an activity I still enjoy as an adult). It was probably the third or fourth time the cassette tape had automatically restarted itself, but Elvis can never get old. Since everyone else was in the kitchen, I had a little more floor space than usual to do my dancing. I started running from one side of the room to the other, doing a dramatic leap with my head bent backwards before turning around.
One of my parents hollered at me from the kitchen to cut it out because I was going to swallow my candy and choke and die. But then they got distracted by something or other, and so I returned to my dance routine. It probably looked like I was running back and forth and when I reached the end of the room, I suddenly convulsed in the air, momentarily writhing in pain. Then I turned around and did it again.
Eventually, on one particularly enthusiastic leap where I bent my head back a little extra and made it more of a whole body move, I inhaled the candy. As I started choking, my first thought was, "not "I'm going to die! I should get help from someone who knows CPR!" My first thought was. "Oh no! They told me to stop or I would choke and die! Now I'm choking and dying! They're going to be so mad I didn't listen!" So I skulked behind the Christmas tree, squatting and trying to clear my airway.
I did manage to start breathing again on my own which was pretty much a Christmas miracle. Of course I was less concerned about my recent near death experience and more concerned with hiding my recent crime of not listening and nearly dying. For the rest of the evening I was extra good, on my guard, and half convinced that the adults in my family could see the candy, which was obviously still lodged firmly inside my lungs.
A couple of months later, I had to get a series of x-rays. I hadn't yet acquired my phobia of doctors and their testing having had few terribly unpleasant medical experiences at that point in my life, but I was still nervous. In my perfectly rational six year old mind, I was positive that the candy would show up on the x-ray. There it would be, red and everything, lodged right into my left lung. The wrapper would probably have re-materialized, making it even easier to identify. The doctors would be confused and write about it in medical journals, but my parents would know exactly what had happened. They would know right away that months earlier I hadn't listened. Months earlier I had choked on a piece of candy and nearly died.
Then they'd probably yell at me.
Friday, June 24, 2011
More on Boogers (And How Boogers Pertain to "Wait Time")
In classes concerning education, they talk a lot about "wait time". "Wait time" is the magic amount of time between asking a question and actually calling on a student. This gives all students an opportunity to form their own answer or at least begin thinking of a solution or answer.
"Wait time" is precarious though. If the time is too short, you are basically telling most of the kids in the class that you don't give a rat's ass if they know the answer because someone else can give it before them. This will lead them to develop a very low self esteem, give up on school, and probably end up in prison and/or knocked up by the time they are fifteen. This will be your fault for not giving them enough wait time, making you a horrible person. Only horrible people don't give students enough wait time.
If you err on the other side, however, and give too much wait time, just as much, if not more damage can be done. While giving too little wait time on any particular answer can ruin the lives of half the students in your class, the effects of a drawn out wait time can sometime be infinitely more disastrous. Say you give students the amazingly generous amount of 5 seconds between asking the question and actually calling on them. In that time, the students that only need 1 - 2.5 seconds to form a reasonable answer or to give up entirely are wreaking havoc on the classroom. This may include (but certainly is not limited to) scribbling on desk tops, throwing paper at each other, shooting spitballs, setting small fires inside their desks, beating up the kid next to them, writing profanities on the wall in permanent marker, dealing or doing drugs, facebooking, or even passing notes! As you can see, chaos can easily ensue should too much wait time be given.
They say you should count to three - SLOWLY - count "One Mississippi (breath), Two Mississippi, (breath) Three Mississippi, (breath)" if you must - before calling verbally or otherwise on a student. Still, counting is tricky sometimes.
Some student will always throw their hand up in the air, oohing and grunting, dislocating their own arm from their shoulder socket immediately after a question has been asked - sometimes even before - convinced that if they are not the first to answer this question, they may just die. Being called on first is a matter of life and death for these students. You must ignore them, however, even though, in my experiences as a child, I remember these students often had the right answers.
Whenever a teacher called on these students the instant their hand went up and they smugly delivered the correct answer in an almost breathless tone (it was a near death experience for them, after all), it was a devastating blow to my academic ego! These students who did not need wait time were the ones I envied when I myself was a student. Still , even if you know they have the right answer- you must ignore them and wait the designated wait time amount of Three Mississippis, otherwise one of the above scenarios could happen. Whether a child's self esteem is ruined forever or the school has to be evacuated due to a small, contained desk fire, it will still be your fault for your lousy judgement of appropriate wait time, and that would suck. No one wants that on their conscience.
I have a confession to make. Are you ready? It is a big one!
I am one of those people who benefits from wait time.
Alright. I need it. I need wait time to be a productive member of any trivia team and possibly even to be a productive member of society.
The last day of school for the students, the staff had a meeting/party in the media center. The Book Babes (lovely ladies that work in the media center) put on a wonderful trivia game where they asked a question and whoever jumped up and yelled out the correct answer first won an amazing prize.
Now, I know a lot of useless facts. I know more useless facts than useful facts. Proportionately, it is a little bit worrisome. Honestly, how I function so well with the information I carry around in my head is truly amazing. Unfortunately, I cannot recall these facts - useful or otherwise - and vocalize them quickly. So while my peers and colleagues were popping up all over the place hollering out answers that I knew, accumulating piles of prizes in front of them, I sat in my chair, watching silently. Towards the end of the game, I looked enviously around at everyone else's prizes. It seemed like everyone else had a pile of really cool stuff - such as Clorox disinfectant wipes, chocolate bars, posters of bald eagles, 100 packs of pencils, and pens shaped like dolphins - and I had nothing.
Soon it became clear that the Book Babes were not even giving prizes to only those with the right answers! They were just handing out prizes sometimes to the person who jumped up and said anything first, sometimes to the person who said the funniest thing, and only sometimes to the first person with the correct answer. I considered jumping up and just yelling stuff out, like some others were doing, but as I mentioned in my post yesterday, I am already extremely lucky to not have yelled "BOOGERS!" in a meeting so far, and I really would like to keep it that way as long as possible.
Seriously, I was worried that I would jump up, all ready to say something random just to get a prize, then instead panic and yell, "BOOGERS!" I imagined the horrified looks on my colleagues faces as a stunned and disgusted silence fell across the media center. Then a judging whisper would sweep from one side of the room to the other, all eyes on me. I would be forced to slink under the table and hide there for the rest of the day. That would have been awful since I had a lot of work to do that day.
I sat there for a while, concentrating really hard, trying to come up with an acceptable word to choose, focus on, and yell out. It had to be socially appropriate, a little bit quirky, and it had to work with virtually any sort of question. I had to be able to scream this word after being asked "What do you call a group of kangeroos?" as well as "What is the queen of England's favorite color?" or "What is the maximum capacity of the Taj Mahal?" without losing the hard earned respect of my colleagues. They already thought I was quirky (nice for "weird") and unique (nice for "weird"), so I just had to choose a word and make it sound like I had come up with it on the spot. Orange? 7,231? The Oval Office? What would work?
Eventually, a colleague looked over and noticed I had no prizes in front of me. She asked why I didn't jump up. I responded, a bit embarrassed, that I am one of those people that needs that precious wait time. She looked at me funny, then wrinkled her nose and said, "Why don't you just jump up and yell 'boogers' after the next question?"
I was stunned! Had she read my mind? Did she know my secret fear and was now taunting me with it? HOW MANY PEOPLE I WORK WITH KNOW WHAT A STRUGGLE IT IS FOR ME TO KEEP FROM YELLING "BOOGERS" IN PROFESSIONAL SITUATIONS? I panicked. This was mightily embarrassing.
Then I realized she knew nothing of my inner conflict. She was just trying to be funny and help me win a prize. I sighed and laughed, although a bit belatedly. That hesitation may have given her a hint to my issue, but perhaps not. Probably not, right?
Eventually I won a picture frame for knowing that the Statue of Liberty was a gift to the United States from France. I jumped up and shouted "FRANCE!" a little too loudly and a little over-enthusiastically, but I got a picture frame! And I got to jump up just like the people around me, helping me rebuild a little bit of that growing feeling of stupidity and low self esteem.
The moral of the story is:
Wait time is exceedingly important, and without it, our nation would fall into a chaotic mess with a rebellion run by children with very low self esteem.
"Wait time" is precarious though. If the time is too short, you are basically telling most of the kids in the class that you don't give a rat's ass if they know the answer because someone else can give it before them. This will lead them to develop a very low self esteem, give up on school, and probably end up in prison and/or knocked up by the time they are fifteen. This will be your fault for not giving them enough wait time, making you a horrible person. Only horrible people don't give students enough wait time.
If you err on the other side, however, and give too much wait time, just as much, if not more damage can be done. While giving too little wait time on any particular answer can ruin the lives of half the students in your class, the effects of a drawn out wait time can sometime be infinitely more disastrous. Say you give students the amazingly generous amount of 5 seconds between asking the question and actually calling on them. In that time, the students that only need 1 - 2.5 seconds to form a reasonable answer or to give up entirely are wreaking havoc on the classroom. This may include (but certainly is not limited to) scribbling on desk tops, throwing paper at each other, shooting spitballs, setting small fires inside their desks, beating up the kid next to them, writing profanities on the wall in permanent marker, dealing or doing drugs, facebooking, or even passing notes! As you can see, chaos can easily ensue should too much wait time be given.
They say you should count to three - SLOWLY - count "One Mississippi (breath), Two Mississippi, (breath) Three Mississippi, (breath)" if you must - before calling verbally or otherwise on a student. Still, counting is tricky sometimes.
Some student will always throw their hand up in the air, oohing and grunting, dislocating their own arm from their shoulder socket immediately after a question has been asked - sometimes even before - convinced that if they are not the first to answer this question, they may just die. Being called on first is a matter of life and death for these students. You must ignore them, however, even though, in my experiences as a child, I remember these students often had the right answers.
Whenever a teacher called on these students the instant their hand went up and they smugly delivered the correct answer in an almost breathless tone (it was a near death experience for them, after all), it was a devastating blow to my academic ego! These students who did not need wait time were the ones I envied when I myself was a student. Still , even if you know they have the right answer- you must ignore them and wait the designated wait time amount of Three Mississippis, otherwise one of the above scenarios could happen. Whether a child's self esteem is ruined forever or the school has to be evacuated due to a small, contained desk fire, it will still be your fault for your lousy judgement of appropriate wait time, and that would suck. No one wants that on their conscience.
I have a confession to make. Are you ready? It is a big one!
I am one of those people who benefits from wait time.
Alright. I need it. I need wait time to be a productive member of any trivia team and possibly even to be a productive member of society.
The last day of school for the students, the staff had a meeting/party in the media center. The Book Babes (lovely ladies that work in the media center) put on a wonderful trivia game where they asked a question and whoever jumped up and yelled out the correct answer first won an amazing prize.
Now, I know a lot of useless facts. I know more useless facts than useful facts. Proportionately, it is a little bit worrisome. Honestly, how I function so well with the information I carry around in my head is truly amazing. Unfortunately, I cannot recall these facts - useful or otherwise - and vocalize them quickly. So while my peers and colleagues were popping up all over the place hollering out answers that I knew, accumulating piles of prizes in front of them, I sat in my chair, watching silently. Towards the end of the game, I looked enviously around at everyone else's prizes. It seemed like everyone else had a pile of really cool stuff - such as Clorox disinfectant wipes, chocolate bars, posters of bald eagles, 100 packs of pencils, and pens shaped like dolphins - and I had nothing.
Soon it became clear that the Book Babes were not even giving prizes to only those with the right answers! They were just handing out prizes sometimes to the person who jumped up and said anything first, sometimes to the person who said the funniest thing, and only sometimes to the first person with the correct answer. I considered jumping up and just yelling stuff out, like some others were doing, but as I mentioned in my post yesterday, I am already extremely lucky to not have yelled "BOOGERS!" in a meeting so far, and I really would like to keep it that way as long as possible.
Seriously, I was worried that I would jump up, all ready to say something random just to get a prize, then instead panic and yell, "BOOGERS!" I imagined the horrified looks on my colleagues faces as a stunned and disgusted silence fell across the media center. Then a judging whisper would sweep from one side of the room to the other, all eyes on me. I would be forced to slink under the table and hide there for the rest of the day. That would have been awful since I had a lot of work to do that day.
I sat there for a while, concentrating really hard, trying to come up with an acceptable word to choose, focus on, and yell out. It had to be socially appropriate, a little bit quirky, and it had to work with virtually any sort of question. I had to be able to scream this word after being asked "What do you call a group of kangeroos?" as well as "What is the queen of England's favorite color?" or "What is the maximum capacity of the Taj Mahal?" without losing the hard earned respect of my colleagues. They already thought I was quirky (nice for "weird") and unique (nice for "weird"), so I just had to choose a word and make it sound like I had come up with it on the spot. Orange? 7,231? The Oval Office? What would work?
Eventually, a colleague looked over and noticed I had no prizes in front of me. She asked why I didn't jump up. I responded, a bit embarrassed, that I am one of those people that needs that precious wait time. She looked at me funny, then wrinkled her nose and said, "Why don't you just jump up and yell 'boogers' after the next question?"
I was stunned! Had she read my mind? Did she know my secret fear and was now taunting me with it? HOW MANY PEOPLE I WORK WITH KNOW WHAT A STRUGGLE IT IS FOR ME TO KEEP FROM YELLING "BOOGERS" IN PROFESSIONAL SITUATIONS? I panicked. This was mightily embarrassing.
Then I realized she knew nothing of my inner conflict. She was just trying to be funny and help me win a prize. I sighed and laughed, although a bit belatedly. That hesitation may have given her a hint to my issue, but perhaps not. Probably not, right?
Eventually I won a picture frame for knowing that the Statue of Liberty was a gift to the United States from France. I jumped up and shouted "FRANCE!" a little too loudly and a little over-enthusiastically, but I got a picture frame! And I got to jump up just like the people around me, helping me rebuild a little bit of that growing feeling of stupidity and low self esteem.
The moral of the story is:
Wait time is exceedingly important, and without it, our nation would fall into a chaotic mess with a rebellion run by children with very low self esteem.
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
BOOGERS! (And Monkey Brains!)
As you probably know, I am super mature and very adult-like. That is why I have a full time job, pay taxes, own an honest-to-goodness couch, and wake up in the morning sometimes even when I don't have to. I even vacuum and mop on a fairly regular basis without anyone telling me to do so. What I am trying to tell you is that I am very grown up.
What I am not, however, is mature. You may also recall that I eat popcorn sometimes for second dinner, I think Scrabble Sentence Game for Juniors is amazing, I lick ice cream off my pants, and sometimes I have to refrain from yelling out "boogers" in a meeting when I am put on the spot and don't really have anything intelligble to say.
If I yell out "boogers", they will probably be so surprised that they will not realize that I actually had nothing of substance to add to the discussion. Better yet, maybe they won't put me on the spot anymore. So far I have managed to refrain, but it has taken a lot of self-control, and it is really a matter of time before I stand up in a meeting full of important administrators and yell out "BOOGERS AND MONKEY BRAINS!" before fleeing the premises.
Yeah. I'm totally going to get hired back for next year.
Anyway, point is - very grown-up, not so mature. This has been very evident in my recent family trip to the beach. I've been spending my time on a variety of leisure activites, including (but certainly not limited to) those listed below. See if you can sort them in to "grown-up" and "not-as-mature-as-she-ought-to-be"!
What I am not, however, is mature. You may also recall that I eat popcorn sometimes for second dinner, I think Scrabble Sentence Game for Juniors is amazing, I lick ice cream off my pants, and sometimes I have to refrain from yelling out "boogers" in a meeting when I am put on the spot and don't really have anything intelligble to say.
If I yell out "boogers", they will probably be so surprised that they will not realize that I actually had nothing of substance to add to the discussion. Better yet, maybe they won't put me on the spot anymore. So far I have managed to refrain, but it has taken a lot of self-control, and it is really a matter of time before I stand up in a meeting full of important administrators and yell out "BOOGERS AND MONKEY BRAINS!" before fleeing the premises.
Yeah. I'm totally going to get hired back for next year.
Anyway, point is - very grown-up, not so mature. This has been very evident in my recent family trip to the beach. I've been spending my time on a variety of leisure activites, including (but certainly not limited to) those listed below. See if you can sort them in to "grown-up" and "not-as-mature-as-she-ought-to-be"!
- Reading Jane Austen's Northanger Abbey and laughing out loud at the humor
- Playing catch on the beach
- Playing Trivial Pursuit Junior
- Riding bikes on the beach
- Reading a Percy Jackson book
- Cooking
- Tracking sand into the house
- Boogie Boarding
- Being beaten up by waves but being too stubborn to call it quits and instead persist in being extremely unattractive on the beach in front of attractive young men near my age
- Not caring that I look like a wreck
- Remembering to constantly apply sunscreen
- Remembering to drink lots of water
- Chasing crabs on the beach and laughing at their funny running legs! Shining flashlights on them so they freeze
- Warning other people's children about jellyfish and careless fishermen who might hook them on their lines
- Taking naps
- Beating my 13 year old sister in a game and feeling good about it
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Vacation Book Pile
This week is my vacation time, and I have a stack of books to read. I have already finished one, and am halfway through the second. In fact, it occurred to me a couple of hours ago that I should probably slow down or I will run out of reading material. Since this seemed a reasonable fear, I stopped reading and watched the first part of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 1 with my family.
 |
| Completed! |
![Northanger Abbey [NORTHANGER ABBEY -OS N/D]](http://ws.amazon.com/widgets/q?MarketPlace=US&ServiceVersion=20070822&ID=AsinImage&WS=1&Format=_SL160_&ASIN=B001TKEFZG&tag=widgetsamazon-20)
Please note that the artwork on And Only to Deceive and Jane Austen's Northanger Abbey are the same. I bought them on two completely seperate trips to my beloved Rochester Barnes and Noble, and didn't notice until I pulled them both out and put them next to each other. Perhaps Northanger Abbey will slow me down a bit, and I will have plenty to read this week.
Reading is pretty amazing.
*Don't forget to vote on the poll in the upper right hand corner! If you had to work at the Scranton branch of Dunder Mifflon, who would be your best work friend?*
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Being Uncooperative
As you may or may not know, I am working as a teacher for the Migrant Program in Rochester/Plainview over the summer. Our program is k-12 and needs to incorporate a post-secondary aspect, and I elected myself to take care of this scheduling issue. Boy am I kicking myself now.
The requirement is that we have at least one thing going on about post-secondary opportunities, but I thought, "Our program is better than that! We can have three! Or at least two! We live in Rochester! I'll get RCTC, the Mayo, and a certain computer company located in our city!*"
So I started my day calling RCTC and asking about getting a campus tour, having someone talk to us about courses of studies, job opportunities, financial aid, and student life. The people at RCTC were extremely friendly, and I look forward to finalizing our plans together in the near future.
The Mayo was next on my list, and while I was on hold for quite a while, each person I spoke with was pleasant and very willing to do whatever they could to help our program. I spoke to several happy people, and they have already left me phone messages to talk more about this opportunity with me. I also look forward to working with Mayo employees in the near future to provide my students with an understanding of health care professions and the education needed to obtain positions in this field.
Then I called a certain computer company located in our city. First, I looked up their Rochester number online and called it. The robotic sounding operator only gave me two choices: I could either be connected to the 1-800 number, or I could press 2 and talk to someone about a local problem. I naively assumed this meant I would be talking to someone in Rochester. That was not so.
When the man on the phone answered and gave me his quality assurance speech, I waited patiently, then I dove in with my story about how I am a teacher working in the Migrant Program in our city and we are looking for speakers or possible field trip opportunities to learn about different jobs and the education we need to possibly obtain these jobs.
There was silence for a moment on the other line. Then the conversation went very much like what I have typed below, though not exactly because I didn't record the conversation, nor was I typing it as we spoke. What I'm saying is that this isn't a perfectly 100% accurate word for word script of what happened this afternoon, but it is pretty close.
It was a very frustrating conversation. How come he got to keep saying and asking the same things over and over again, but when I repeated myself, he said "Yes ma'am, You've already said that". That's not fair. And I was being perfectly civil with my happy tone of voice and everything! I was not being uncooperative, although I began to feel a little more hostile after being accused of being uncooperative.
I am VERY cooperative.
mumble mumble I'll cooperate HIM....mumble mumble.....
Perhaps tomorrow I will drive directly to this company's office complex and sit on their doorstep. This way I can ask each individual employee if they will come and speak with my students.
*Name changed to protect the innocent.
The requirement is that we have at least one thing going on about post-secondary opportunities, but I thought, "Our program is better than that! We can have three! Or at least two! We live in Rochester! I'll get RCTC, the Mayo, and a certain computer company located in our city!*"
So I started my day calling RCTC and asking about getting a campus tour, having someone talk to us about courses of studies, job opportunities, financial aid, and student life. The people at RCTC were extremely friendly, and I look forward to finalizing our plans together in the near future.
The Mayo was next on my list, and while I was on hold for quite a while, each person I spoke with was pleasant and very willing to do whatever they could to help our program. I spoke to several happy people, and they have already left me phone messages to talk more about this opportunity with me. I also look forward to working with Mayo employees in the near future to provide my students with an understanding of health care professions and the education needed to obtain positions in this field.
Then I called a certain computer company located in our city. First, I looked up their Rochester number online and called it. The robotic sounding operator only gave me two choices: I could either be connected to the 1-800 number, or I could press 2 and talk to someone about a local problem. I naively assumed this meant I would be talking to someone in Rochester. That was not so.
When the man on the phone answered and gave me his quality assurance speech, I waited patiently, then I dove in with my story about how I am a teacher working in the Migrant Program in our city and we are looking for speakers or possible field trip opportunities to learn about different jobs and the education we need to possibly obtain these jobs.
There was silence for a moment on the other line. Then the conversation went very much like what I have typed below, though not exactly because I didn't record the conversation, nor was I typing it as we spoke. What I'm saying is that this isn't a perfectly 100% accurate word for word script of what happened this afternoon, but it is pretty close.
Man: Are you in Rochester?
Me: Yes. I'm in Rochester, and I would like to speak with someone about possibly coming out to speak with my students.
Man: Who is your salesman?
Me: What?
Man: What is the name of your salesman?
Me: No, no! I don't have a salesman. I would like to speak to someone about coming out to our school and talking to my students about what it is like working for your company.
Man: Give me the name of the person you would like me to connect you to.
Me: Ummm....That's my question. Who can I talk to about educational opportunities your company provides?
Man: Please give me the name of the person you would like to talk to.
Me: Yes. I would if I could, but, you see, I called you because I would like to know the name. My question is who - WHO - can I call about talking to my students about your company?
Man: What school do you work at?
Me: Well, we're based out of (school name deleted), but we're part of the public school system. Our students don't know a lot about post-secondary opportunities, and to be honest, they don't know a lot about the different kinds of jobs even available, so we are asking people to come talk to our students about their jobs and levels of education.Man: So what you're saying is that our employees come out to three different schools and give speeches?
Me: No....
Man: That's what you said. You said our employees go out to three different schools and speak with students.
Me: No.....I am with the public school system, and I would like someone to come out and talk to my students. I don't know if they will do it or not, but I know your company is very involved in education here in town.
Man: Are you in Rochester?
Me: Yes. I am in Rochester and I work for the public schools.
Man: Yes ma'am. You've already said that.
PauseMan: Give me the name of the person you would like to speak with so I can connect you.
Me: What? No. That's my question! What is the name of the person I can talk to? WHO can I talk to?
Man: Ma'am. I am trying to help you, but you are not being very cooperative.
Me: (As I make a very confused face on my side of the telephone) Wha-I-what? - I - I'm trying to cooperate, I really am. I just want to know the name of the person I can talk to about getting someone to speak to my students.
Man: Yes ma'am. You've already said that. Please give me the name of the person you would like to speak to.
Me: Yes. That's my question.
Man: Ma'am. I need you to try to cooperate with me.
Me: What? I am cooperating. I'm just asking you a question!
Man: I'm going to put you on hold now, ma'am.
It was a very frustrating conversation. How come he got to keep saying and asking the same things over and over again, but when I repeated myself, he said "Yes ma'am, You've already said that". That's not fair. And I was being perfectly civil with my happy tone of voice and everything! I was not being uncooperative, although I began to feel a little more hostile after being accused of being uncooperative.
I am VERY cooperative.
mumble mumble I'll cooperate HIM....mumble mumble.....
Perhaps tomorrow I will drive directly to this company's office complex and sit on their doorstep. This way I can ask each individual employee if they will come and speak with my students.
*Name changed to protect the innocent.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Results of the "Disney Princess Quiz" Survey
Since the turnout for the Disney Princess Survey was so pathetic, I asked you to take the quiz at the Disney website and report back which Disney Princess you are most like, according to Disney. The turnout for this survey was marginally better, which is surprising since you actually had to do more work, go to another website, take a quiz, and report back rather than just click an answer, but that's alright.
As you can see, most people, according to Disney, are most like Belle. I think you'll remember me saying that if I could be any Disney Princess, I would be Belle, despite her emotionally (and possibly physically) abusive relationship because of her awesome library. Plus, having a footstool as a pet would be kind of awesome.
On the downside, I guess you wouldn't have any privacy because everything is alive in the castle. That would make bath time kind of creepy and possibly uncomfortable for all those involved, especially the tub and the towel.
Anyway, I took the quiz and Disney says I am most like Cinderella. Whatever. It was my favorite movie as a child, so maybe that says something. I used to be able to re-enact it word for word and make my uncle play along with me.
Also, thank you for your honesty, those of you that admitted you weren't taking the quiz. I completely understand, although I assume you are generally a crabby person who never goes outside to enjoy the sunshine.
After taking the quiz, which Disney Princess are you most like?
Belle | (50%) |
Jasmine | (0%) |
Ariel | (0%) |
Snow White | (16%) |
Cinderella | (16%) |
Aurora | (0%) |
I'm not taking that stupid quiz. | (16%) |
As you can see, most people, according to Disney, are most like Belle. I think you'll remember me saying that if I could be any Disney Princess, I would be Belle, despite her emotionally (and possibly physically) abusive relationship because of her awesome library. Plus, having a footstool as a pet would be kind of awesome.
On the downside, I guess you wouldn't have any privacy because everything is alive in the castle. That would make bath time kind of creepy and possibly uncomfortable for all those involved, especially the tub and the towel.
Anyway, I took the quiz and Disney says I am most like Cinderella. Whatever. It was my favorite movie as a child, so maybe that says something. I used to be able to re-enact it word for word and make my uncle play along with me.
Also, thank you for your honesty, those of you that admitted you weren't taking the quiz. I completely understand, although I assume you are generally a crabby person who never goes outside to enjoy the sunshine.
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