But should it be a philodendron, a cactus or a spider plant?

My super fabulous undergrad assistant for the last year, Liza, graduated this last weekend. She took my class her freshman fall (naturally, earning a well-deserved A) and I wanted her from the beginning to lead my post-screening discussions at some point. She has done a great job this year and I'll miss her greatly.

I had met her mom several years ago when her cousin Grant (who was also my assistant before Liza) graduated and the whole family came from Minnesota to celebrate; this time, because we couldn't join them yesterday for dim sum, Liza and her parents took us out for lunch. Among other things, her parents asked about what students were really like and I have her my impressions. "I have to say, however, that the thing that really gets me are students who expect to get an 'A' for class participation for just showing up. 'I was here, don't I deserve an "A"?'"

"That's amazing."

"Yeah, I mean, a potted plant can sit in the corner every day. Does it deserve an 'A'?"

"You know, you should do that."

"What?"

"Bring a potted plant to class on the first day. And just sit it on the corner every class. And you can always point out that by the end of the semester, the potted plant has actually grown."

This, I have to say, is brilliant. If anybody gives me grief, I can just point. That potted plant is getting more of an education than you are! Sheer brilliance!

I have all summer to pick my potted plant. And my pot. Because the Fleischer memorial hibiscus, currently in my office, is just way too big for me to lug all over the place. Consider this a solicitation for suggestions.

Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha

A short film consisted of edited footage from John Cassavetes' Faces, made by one of my students (on his own!) after watching the film. His version actually gets the tone of the movie down pretty well. (As he says, however, he suggests watching the whole movie -- it's now one of his favorites.)

Watching "Heroes," as little as possible

Last night, NBC decided to re-air the premiere of a new show called Heroes, which I had originally pooh-poohed from the ads as X-Men Lite, incorrect spelling intentional. The show got rave reviews, however, on Monday, so I decided to give it a chance. I now consider NBC's strategy of re-airing premieres genius, as I now claim to be hooked (at least until 24 begins whenever it begins). Some comments:

First, great storytelling. There is nothing really new being done here, but it's done really well. For example, I didn't see the end coming at all.

Second, it's good to see Adrian Pasdar working again. I have said this before (I think) that he starred in Profit, one of the best series about a deliciously bad person that got kicked off the schedule after only four episodes. (Damn you, Fox!... But wait, it's on DVD now! Hooray!!...) Even though he's not nearly as good here, it's good to see him working. Likewise, it's very unusual to see otherwise eye-candy Ali Larter actually demonstrating that she can act, after Final Destination and Legally Blonde. Not to mention that I still don't understand exactly what power she has, but I'm scared of it.

Third, I looooove Masi Oka, who may be the most endearingly hilarious character on television after the entire cast of My Name Is Earl. Along with the upcoming movie Babel, I think that Japanese may be the newly hip nationality of choice, replacing Korean and Icelandic.

Finally, and the real reason I'm blogging about this at all, is Milo Ventimiglia. He looks different here that he did when he played the bad boy in Gilmore Girls, but that's OK. Angela and I were watching the show and almost immediately, she turned to me and said, "Doesn't that look like Dan?"

Ah, Dan. My former teaching assistant now does as little as possible, has been keeping his cars lately in our driveway and, ever since he was my teaching assistant, has been confused with other brooding actors with dark hair and intensely bright eyes. This started when he screened Psycho for my class and, as he opened discussion, found that people were freaked out because they thought he looked like Anthony Perkins. Oddly enough, they were right. (We then played this up by having me race through the classroom dressed as Mother and pretend to stab him at the front of the classroom as a Halloween prank.) Lately, he's been confused for Jake Gyllenhaal. The funny/scary thing about this confusion is that Ventomiglia's character on this show actually seems to also carry himself somewhat like Dan does, if Dan insisted to his older brother that he could fly. Which makes me wonder if Hollywood execs are atually stalking Dan's apartment or something. Which could be a television series in itself, come to think of it. Dan, what do you think?

Commemorating this day

There are many things to write about (Telluride, Xan, getting "screwed," classes, etc.), but today is a day for commemoration.

So many people are thinking about weighty issues today; I myself choose to do as little as possible.

Happy Birthday, Dan! (Alistair says hello and misses you...)

ZZ: Tops

Is this cute? It makes a professor's heart go pitter-pat.

My former TA, Dan Zak, now writes movie reviews for The Buffalo News; my other former TA, Emily Zemler, now works for Entertainment Weekly, doing something she hasn't quite told me yet. Though it seems she would be perfect for the "Going Five Rounds [of Drinks] with [Insert Rock Band with Cute Male Singer Here]" for the Listen2It section, I can only assume -- since she won't tell me -- that she gets coffee or something... and apparently, occasionally posts to the EW blog, PopWatch.

Nearly five years after having collided in my Critical Approach to the Cinema class and sparring every since (Quoting EZ, minutes before I was going to ask her to be my new TA: "I'm so angry that you chose Dan as your TA and not me!"), they collide once again as PopWatch lists Dan's review of Serenity in their humorous summary of review titles riffing on the movie title. OK, so Emily didn't write it -- still, it warms the cockles of my heart. Way to go, guys!

Congrats to the Class of 2005! (And Mom...)

Today was Angela’s first Mother’s Day. Miraculously, I did not need to be reminded that I had a new holiday to remember! Part of this is due, of course, to that fact that poor Angela must every year (unless I don’t get tenure) cede at least part of the holiday to American University because, as it turns out, commencement traditionally falls every year on Mother’s Day. Whose brilliant idea this was, I have no idea. (Good feminist that I am, I say: probably some man. Good husband that I am, I’ll add the words “single” and “bitter” to that.) Angela, trooper that she is, not only brought spent the day at AU, but also brought Xan which made most of my colleagues, graduates and graduates’ parents just ooh and aah. Both Angela and I realized that, if we’re lucky, we’ll be on the other side of this equation in 22 years with the little guy.

As it was, I could have been exempt this year from attending the ceremony since I am still on sabbatical. (I wonder if my sabbatical is officially over since it’s now just plain summer. Hm.) I decided to go in, however, because this happens to also have been my fourth year at AU – which means that the first classes of freshmen I taught in Fall 2001 graduated today. I got very sentimental the other evening and, late the other night, I sent an e-mail to sixteen of them who had all both taken a course with me during that fateful first year and then proceeded to take at least one additional course with me following that. Sappy and wistful as it is, the note follows and applies to far more than the 16 I sent it to.

Dad, Momma and Xan, Graduation 2005


It’s coming up to commencement and I thought I’d take a moment to do what everyone else is doing at this point and look back. I’m writing to the sixteen of you (two of whom have already graduated and gone) because, for some odd reason, you took one of the six courses I taught four years ago: Critical Approach to the Cinema, Literary Imagination, The Film Musical or (in one of its last incarnations) Remarkable Literary Journeys. (None of you took the first version of Cinemas of Latin American Cinema that fall; that class had only nine students, all seniors, something that seems will never happen again. But I digress.) That was a tough year: dare I remind you that the events of September 11, 2001 occurred during one of those 8:30AM Critical Approach classes – and that for some, that was also the first class that met when we all tried to get back to “normal.” It was your first exposure to AU and you stuck with it for four more years.

It was also, as you may recall, my first year at AU. I also erroneously believed it would be my last: that year, I was a sabbatical replacement on a one-year hire, told from the beginning that I would not be rehired the next year. I took that to heart and nonetheless just did what I came to do, which was to teach. Perhaps like you, I didn’t know what to expect from this place. To be perfectly frank now, I’m not sure I expected much.

You all are part of an amazing group that definitely changed my mind. I know AU doesn’t have too much of a sense of rah-rah school spirit or anything, but I have really grown to love this place for all it is worth – and, believe it or not, it’s primarily because of students like you. You all proved your mettle early on. I tried to set the bar relatively high: all of you made it, most of you soaring over each time. I’ve learned a lot from you as students as much as I’ve been able to teach you.

I also haven’t forgotten all the signatures on the petition some of you signed in fall 2001, asking for me to be reconsidered for a job. A student spearheaded that campaign and I didn’t expect it to go anywhere. I’m still not sure how much influence that petition really had. But, in what I still consider a minor miracle in this world of academia, I was offered a tenure-track job here by the end of that year. And the following spring, the dean introduced me to another professor at a get-together as “the only professor I remember who students petitioned to hire.” Again: not sure how much it helped, but it surely didn’t hurt.

I’m writing to you all because, for some reason or another, you decided to take my courses again. And, in some cases, again and again and again. I know that for a couple of you, this was probably because you were cinema studies minors who just needed to get through it all. That doesn’t explain you, Mr. McKeveny, or you, Mr. Turner, who both win the award for taking a whopping five courses with me – though Colm perhaps edges out John in variety by having taken pretty much every course I’ve taught, literary and cinematic, except for two. (There is one exception to this list, who only took one of my courses – not a film one – and then was my GEFAP when I taught it a second time. Perhaps she was wise to avoid more of me, since I just noticed she managed to maintain a 4.0. Nice going, Shelby.)

This was not my first teaching job, but this is the first job where I am now getting the chance to see the freshmen that I started with, finish. All of us started together – and now, I?ll get the joy of watching you leave.

You’ve all changed considerably over the last few years. If nothing else (and leave it for the professor to point this out), you’ve all become much more mature thinkers and writers. Go back and look at those first papers you wrote for me, if you think I’m kidding. I’ve changed too, of course. Most of you know that I’m not on campus this semester because I’m currently on sabbatical, which was meant for writing and research. On March 20th, all that changed when my little baby boy Alexander was born and suddenly, I became Dad. As I type this, Xan’s lying asleep in my lap while I’m on the “night shift,” waiting for him to tell me he’s hungry. As I’ve said to several people: all the students who have been holding your breath, waiting for me to utter the phrase, “I’m totally in love with this guy,” can finally exhale, heh heh.

Yes, I’m being wistful (and rather long-winded and tangential, I now see – a hallmark, perhaps of a Middents class discussion? yes, I do read my evals...), but I consider it a privilege and honor to have taught you over the last four years. With a little luck (and a lot more writing to finally get my book on Peruvian cinema finished and published), I’ll be here for many more years to come as well. And although my sabbatical means that I don’t have to show up, I would be remiss if I didn’t actually come to your graduation, even if the only one I’m allowed to attend is for CAS. (Sorry, all you Vis Med folks.) Despite the fact that my wife and I finally have a real reason to celebrate Mother’s Day, we’ll all be on campus on Sunday for the grand event. And if you’re there (I know some of you just can’t wait to get the hell out of Dodge, and could care less about the pomp and circumstance), I’ll be the guy in the maize-n-blue robes cheering for your accomplishments as you cross the stage. And feel free to say hi one more time at the TDR reception afterwards before you head off into the “real world.” (And if, heaven forbid, you actually want to keep track of what’s happening in my life? well, I’ll let you in on a little secret: I, too, now have a blog, at deepinyoureyes.blogspot.com. Now that you’re no longer my students, you can perhaps see what I’m really like, haha.)

Congratulations. It has been a real privilege to join you on this trip. I sincerely wish you the best as you continue your trajectories from here. (And if any of you happen to win an Oscar someday and don’t thank me, well, I may just have to go and retroactively change some grades. I'm just saying.)