Currently The Man Who Was Thursday By G.K. Chesterton see related

Coach

I am in Ohio, and I am posting at 12:07 a.m. on Sunday.  I just got done watching the Ohio State vs. USC game in which, yet again, the Buckeyes managed to pull out a late loss.  Dating back to the National Championship game in January 2007, this marks OSU's sixth straight loss against top five ranked teams.  Tonight's game wasn't a blowout (like the consecutive National Championship losses to Florida and LSU, and last year's game at USC) but was lost late in the fourth quarter, reminiscent of last year's Penn State game and the Fiesta Bowl against Texas.  I always end up going to bed extremely upset after such a game, and have to wonder why I get so worked up over football.  I guess that in the end it doesn't really matter all that much, but it leads me to ask some questions about myself and about human nature.  Am I justified to want to win so badly?  Is my pride in belonging to this particular color-defined aggregate something that humans, on some level, need in order to better themselves?  Is competition needed, or is it just an unhealthy addiction?  Is it wrong to hope for a win, or is it just completely selfish?

Anyway, I am posting tonight about some other things that have been going on recently in an attempt to get my mind off of brooding about football, in the hopes that I might sleep better rather than bitter (as is the usual case). 

The title of this post, "Coach," was meant to indicate two things that I'd like to tell you about.  The first is that I did not get my job back from last year (if you haven't heard about this, read the post from June 11th), but was hired on as a math coach.  Every math teacher at the high school level has a math coach in their classroom, as I had one last year as a ninth-grade teacher.  A math coach is, basically, another mathematically competent adult (who may or may not have teaching certification in math) who is there to help out the teacher and the students who are struggling with the material.  After having my own classroom last year, my own salary, and my own benefits, it feels like a step back to be working in a support role in the building I was in two years ago, and making the same $100 per day that I made two years ago.  Things will be tighter financially, but it's not really the money that is the hardest part.  I guess it's the feeling that I've finally been able to prove myself as a teacher, and it feels like my reward for doing so is to step back and watch someone else do what I love doing, and I get to sit and watch.  I think my biggest struggles this year are going to be these: trying to use the students that I know so well from last year to relive last year (which is selfish and narcissisitc), fighting off the boredom of watching someone else teach the same thing three times in a row (I started to nod off a bit during third hour on Friday and one of my students from last year was laughing at me), fighting off bitterness knowing that I could do the job better than some of the people who are doing it but can't, and having to bite my tongue when I think something should be done differently.  Pray for me, if you can remember. 

The second reason for the title is that I took a job as an assistant football coach at one of our district's junior high's.  This is the junior high that I wasn't at last year, and it also is the junior high that was my crosstown rival when I went to the junior high I taught at last year, so I've been trained to hate the school I'm coaching at.  That doesn't matter to me so much as the fear I feel, since I've never coached any kind of sport at all.  Right now, I'm kind of in charge of conditioning and starting practices, though I might be in charge of the offense.  Needless to say, I'm quite nervous.  And, again, the last thing I want to think about is money, but it will be a nice stipend at the end of the season.

Currently Atonement (Widescreen Edition) By Keira Knightley, James Mcavoy, Saoirse Ronan, Brenda Blethyn, Harriet Walter see related

So Brave, Young, and Handsome

Last week I finished Leif Enger's second novel, So Brave, Young, and Handsome.  It was really good.  If you're not familiar with his first, Peace Like a River, I think that you should read both.  So Brave seemed less overtly Christian than Peace (at least in terms of language), but Christian themes were still very present.  Besides the depth, though, both are very greatly written and entertaining stories.  I guess that Leif Enger kind of reminds me of Khaled Hosseini, author of both New York Times Bestsellers The Kite Runner and A Thousand Splendid Suns: both authors had such great success with their first novels I was concerned that their second novels wouldn't live up to my expectations because their authors would either be trying to recapture something from their first novel or just be expected to write a great second novel and would fail miserably.  I'm glad to say, though, that I think each novelist is getting better, and I'm greatly looking forward to a third from both of them, whenever that might be.  Some other interesting comparisons between Enger and Hosseini: both authors write about what they know, Enger about Minnesota (where he lives) and adventures throughout the western states, and Hosseini about Afghanistan (where he grew up); both writers, I think, use some reflexivity in some of their main characters, Enger through Monte Becket in So Brave, Young, and Handsome, and Hosseini through Amir in The Kite Runner; and both authors, in all four novels between them, write about simple sets of characters (though Hosseini's novels have a very powerful political focus, necessitated by the political turmoil of Afghanistan) and follow their actions, transformations, and ultimately, redemptions.  If you haven't read any of these four, you should definately put them on your list, and you would do well to read both author's works in publishing order, I think.

On another note, I'd like to introduce you to the newest member of the Penhorwood household, who is himself so brave, young, and handsome.  Below are some pictures of our five-month old chocolate lab/pitbull puppy named Euclid.  Rachael suggested the name, and I thought it was perfect (remember your Greek geometers, not street names).  He is already fifty pounds, adorable, well-behaved, and mellow like us!  I hope that someday you get to meet him. 

Currently 3 Rounds and a Sound By Blind Pilot see related

Mindless Entertainment

Some friends of mine asked Rachael and me to go see Quentin Tarantino's new Nazi-hunter movie Inglorious Basterds with them tomorrow.  I've not seen any of Tarantino's movies, but from what I understand, most all of them are some kind of blood-fest.  Terry Gross' interview with Tarantino yesterday made me interested in seeing Basterds, but after reading a review of the movie today, I'm still not sure I could stomach it.  From what I understand, Basterds is something of a backhanded (or tongue-in-cheek, I suppose) meditation on violence in the cinema, but since I already know pretty much where I stand on that issue, I'm not sure the point would be worth enduring the blood and guts (and brains, I've heard).

Anyhow, when I was on Christianity Today's site, I ran across an old review of Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen.  I've not seen Fallen, and I only really saw parts of the first Transformers.  From what it looks like, Transformers has all the makings of a Pirates of the Caribbean-esque trilogy (or the original Star Wars, or The Matrix for that matter): the first movie ends with the good guys winning, and though the plot could be wrapped up and left as it is, the cash registers at the box office demand another, and maybe another another.  The review was terrific.  It took Fallen to task for huge gaping holes in the storyline and a thin plot that they tried to cover with unnecessary crudity, stereotypical (insert "bigoted") racial, cultural, and sexual perceptions, violence, and CG action scenes--in short, everything that made Pirates and The Matrix huge successes.  But the review also berated viewers whose defense of seeing and enjoying such films is more or less, "It's just mindless entertainment; just turn off your brain and have fun--don't read too much into it."

I have been told numerous times--recently, in fact--that entertainment doesn't have to be deep, that sometimes you just need a story you can lose yourself in, something that can really excite you but you don't have to invest much in.  I have heard this from Christians.  Pardon my intentional crudity, but to me this seems to be on par with (and as irresponsible and misguided as) the idea of "casual sex": all fun, no commitment.  The notion that entertainment can, and even should be mindless, seems only to work under one condition: that the authors, writers, and directors involved did not use their minds when they made the entertainment.  Logically, this argument seems to work: If a writer is trying to say something, then we should use our minds while consuming that media to discover what they are saying.  The following corrollary, then, is also true: If we should not use our minds while consuming a certain piece of entertainment, then the writer must not have been trying to say anything.  On the surface, this certainly seems to be the case with most media that falls into the genres that people advocate best to be consumed without a mind.  However, when a writer takes for granted limited theories of social and political norms, sexual ethics, men's and women's gender roles, the notions of right-and-wrong, justice (and violence as the preferred deterrent and punishment for injustice), and even the supernatural--all hallmark battlegrounds of Christianity--he is saying a lot.  If a writer provides a serious reflection on an issue, or if he provides a comical reflection, or even if he blows something up to an extreme to make it seem absurd, he is at least acknolwedging that it matters.  A writer who takes every truth, norm, and eithic for granted, on the other hand, is saying that it doesn't matter at all.  This seems far more dangerous than any specific conclusion about justice, or sexuality, or the supernatural that a book or a movie could achieve in some tangible, identifyible manner that we could use our minds to scrutinize.  But if God gave us our minds, then it seems a disservice to shut them off and to play along in taking for granted many things that are contrary to our faith in order to enjoy ourselves.  

Currently The Princess Bride: S. Morgenstern's Classic Tale of True Love and High Adventure By William Goldman see related

Our First House

Rachael and I have been shopping for houses since April or May of this year.  Back in June, we had made an offer on a house that was owned by a bank, and our offer was accepted the day after I found out I was going to be laid off.  So we declined to buy it, and we didn't lose any money on it.  I was disapointed, to be sure, but it's amazing how God can really work things out for you.  Now for the past month, Rachael and I have been working on buying a different house, and we're a lot more excited about it.  This house is just such a better fit for us: it comes with all the applicances, it's not owned by a bank (which means that the taxes at closing and for the first year will be a ton cheaper), and the house is pretty much perfect inside and out, so we wouldn't have to do anything immediately on moving in.  Not to mention that our accepted offer is $10,500 cheaper than the other house we were going to buy.  All in all, we feel confident that we can make the payment on this house even if I'm not called back to full-time work.  We are closing on the house this Friday, which means we'll move in on Saturday, August 1st.

Below are a few pictures.

Outside front/side:

Back yard (the grill stays!):

Living room, kitchen, family room:

Basement (notice the toilet next to the washer and dryer--I'm very excited about this!):

All in all, we can't wait to move.  All of our books are packed away, and most everything else, and I'm done with summer school, so I'm going to have an extremely boring week.  But once we're in the house, I'm sure I'll have plenty to keep me busy.

Currently Sam's Town By The Killers Exitlude see related

I Love(d) My Job

After three tumultuous years in the teaching field, I've finally completed my first year of teaching.  Hopefully next year will be my first (and only) second year.

Yesterday was our last day with students; today I turned in my grades and my keys and pulled the door shut to a room I'll probably never step into again.  As I was finishing packing up my desk, I still had my laptop plugged into my stereo on my desk, and I was playing The Killer's album "Sam's Town."  As I was putting my staplers into my last box and getting ready to shut down my computer, the song "Exitlude" began.  I stopped and listened, and by the end I was almost in tears.  It seemed to sum up my feelings as accurately as any words could have:

Aggressively we all defend the role we play
Regrettably time’s come to send you on your way
We’ve seen it all: bonfires of trust flash floods of pain
It doesn’t really matter don’t you worry it’ll all work out
No it doesn’t even matter don’t you worry what it’s all about
We hope you enjoyed your stay
It’s good to have you with us, even if it’s just for the day
We hope you enjoyed your stay
Outside the sun is shining, seems like heaven ain’t far away
It’s good to have you with us
Even if it’s just for the day

Late last summer, Roseville Community Schools hired me to work at Roseville Jr. High, the school I attended from 1996-1998.  I was hired to be a 9th grade math teacher: two classes of Algebra 1, one class of Algebra Enrichment (for struggling Algebra 1 students) and one advanced class of Geometry.  Looking back, I really couldn't have had a better schedule; I had a good mix of classes to keep me on my toes, and I got to end my day with my advanced kids--the only kids that still have some brains left by 2:00.  I think it's my students that I'll miss the most this year.  As easy as it can get to complain about some of them, you still have to love them for whatever they are: quietly sarcastic, dumb as a stick, oppositional defiance, and scatterbrained.  It would take too long if I begin reminiscing; I'm going to miss them.

I was also looking forward to finally having a summer where I could just relax and not have to worry about where I what I was going to be doing next year.  Next year, the 9th graders are moving up the the high school building, so all the secondary teachers were shuffled around.  On Monday, all the teachers with contracts for next year were invited to a board meeting to pick their jobs (based on seniority) at the two jr. highs and the high school.  Unfortunately, due to a $6 million budget deficit, I didn't make it onto the list of teachers who would be picking jobs for next school year, as they laid off all 2008 new-hires (among other teachers and programs).  They laid off three high school math teachers, and I'm the first to be called back if there are any positions left by the end of the summer.  My class sizes this year were already between 34 and 38.  I keep hoping that my chances of getting called back to work are pretty good, but it is what it is.  Instead of the stress-free summer I had planned, I've already updated my resume and applied for three or four jobs.  I guess the bumper stickers in my area are right: this is what I get for owning two Hyundai's instead of a Chevy Cobalt or a Saturn Ion.

I guess that the real challenge is going to be to internalize my first year.  The real struggle I face isn't against financial hardship or material worries, but more against bitterness and displacement.  One of the other 9th grade math teachers, by all accounts, is a pretty big liability; but since he's a third-year teacher and I'm a first-year my job was one of the cushions on the seniority list that protected his.  I want to be mad at my union--at all unions--that this is unfair, when I remember a dusty, old book on my shelf that asks me, "Fair?  Where is that written?"  And after having a really good year, all this uncertainty begins to drag me into my old feelings of insecurity again.  If I get hired on somewhere else and don't get called back, I'll have to start over again, and this time I won't want to.  I want to stay where I've finally had some success, where I've started to build up a decent name and reputation; but that dusty old book warns me against those kind of thoughts, too--about seeking praise from men instead of from heaven.  Perhaps the real lesson, like most of life's lessons, is that I should spend more time with the dusty old book this summer than with the shiny Prentice Hall Geometry book, the computer and math software, and the calculators.