I type this as I sit in front of 44 students all dilligently completing their final exam. We're just over an hour in and there is relatively minimal trepidation at this point, although the panic was definitely there when we started: fear, even, mixed with a trace of cockiness. Perhaps it has also dissispated somewhat because I showed them a short film called A Ninja Pays Half My Rent, the comedy being a change of pace from what I have normally shown at this point.
Since I have a moment, I'll point out that, indeed, this blog has moved over the "blogger beta," which I used to subtly tweak some visual elements from the old incarnation. I have also added labels for all the previous postings, which was a thankless job that I decided to undertake when I didn't have anything else better to do (commercial breaks, between advising students, etc.). Not so suprisingly, I have posted about Xan more than anything else. Perhaps more surprising are the five (now six) posts to date on Dave Kaiser, Associate Professor of History of Science at MIT. Shockingly, his profile doesn't have pictures of his adorable twins who, I imagine, are almost one and therefore should be just about old enough to start plotting his doom. (Not yours, Tracy, because they would never do that to their mother. They never do anything against the mother. Believe me, I'll blog about how I have suddenly turned into chopped liver any day now.)
And that was just long enough for the first exam to be turned in.
Showing posts with label kaisering. Show all posts
Showing posts with label kaisering. Show all posts
Monday, December 11, 2006
Thursday, June 08, 2006
One day off, perhaps?
On my subway ride home from work, I get a call from the Kaiser-Gleasons, they who seem to do everything (PhDs, babies, etc.) in multiples. While on the phone with them...
- My SmartTrip card didn't work for a moment.
- I come upon the remnants of a burning bus in the middle of downtown Takoma Park. (No, I did not leave off the "h" there and Xan is not Isaac in disguise.)
- I discover when I get home that there is a dead racoon in the street immediately in front of our house.
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
My day as a pogo stick
The down part: As I mentioned in the comments of an earlier posting, it turns out that my sickness was not just a cold but rather strep throat. My doctor already had me on antibiotics, but added two more days worth. The nurse who called also said that Angela needed to get a throat culture. I mentioned that my doctor was also her primary care person, so she said, great, it should take no longer than 5 minutes or so.
Ha. Should have known better.
The day started going south when I went to pick up my prescription and it wasn't there. In theory, it had been called in two days prior. The pharmacist called my doctor's office and we waited. They put her on hold forever. I heard her spell my name four times. Finally, she put me on the phone with the receptionist, who said, "Are you sure you got a prescription from us, Mr. Middleton?" Then I spelled the name. Then I hear someone in the background say, "Oh, wait -- yes, I remember him." I mention that I'm bringing my wife into the office anyway. What should have taken about 4 minutes at the pharmacist has taken about a half hour.
We drive to the doctor's office. I should say this about my doctor: I chose him because he was close and he was on my insurance plan; quite frankly, I just picked him out of a list. He's OK, but nothing special -- and indeed, when he prescribed the generic Robotussin w/codeine for my cough, I thought that unusual since I told him that I was only coughing when it was productive. His office staff, however, I've always found a little off.
Today was outrageous. The receptionist was, in my opinion, a word that should not be used on a family blog. Rude, self-important and very unhelpful. It turns out that Angela needs to be seen by the doctor, not just have the throat culture. By this point, I'm seeing various shades of red and I demand to see the head nurse. Instead of calming me down (which would have been fairly easy -- I've been in situations where I have to calm unreasonable people down), she makes it her business to show how she's right.
By the time Angela walked out after waiting for a good while without still having been seen, we had both already decided that we need a new primary care physician. And this time, we're doing what we did when we had to look for a pediatrician: ask for advice first.
How the day got better: For my shorts class, I was looking for serials. It turns out that Georgetown has a fairly extensive collection on VHS; when I went to our library on Monday to try to get a copy to screen, however, I found that it would not arrive in time for today's screening. My only hope was to try to find something at a local video store. I had already called my local store in Takoma Park which, oddly, had nothing.
Fortunately, I happen upon Potomac Video on Connecticut Avenue and quickly perused their shelves, whereupon I find an old copy of King of the Rocket Men. Upon viewing the whole series (mostly in fast forward due to time constraints) to find the right episode to screen, I discover that not only is this hysterically bad (and therefore perfect for class) but also features in the lead roles a group of... PHYSICS PROFESSORS! These professors, by the way, do very little actual phsyics-ing and a lot of punching and gun-shooting and flying with a ridiculous atomic flying suit. Believe it or not, this is actually useful for a minor research topic I've been floating around (thanks to Dr. Dr. Kaiser, a.k.a. he who now has a doctorate for each one of his adorable twin babies). Plus, this made me giggle tremendously while watching it. Completely unexpected, the serial tickled me greatly -- and it went over really well in class, too! Hooray!
(Preview for tomorrow: My sister-in-law is in town! Let's see what happens as she becomes the first family member from Peru to meet the little boy...)
Ha. Should have known better.
The day started going south when I went to pick up my prescription and it wasn't there. In theory, it had been called in two days prior. The pharmacist called my doctor's office and we waited. They put her on hold forever. I heard her spell my name four times. Finally, she put me on the phone with the receptionist, who said, "Are you sure you got a prescription from us, Mr. Middleton?" Then I spelled the name. Then I hear someone in the background say, "Oh, wait -- yes, I remember him." I mention that I'm bringing my wife into the office anyway. What should have taken about 4 minutes at the pharmacist has taken about a half hour.
We drive to the doctor's office. I should say this about my doctor: I chose him because he was close and he was on my insurance plan; quite frankly, I just picked him out of a list. He's OK, but nothing special -- and indeed, when he prescribed the generic Robotussin w/codeine for my cough, I thought that unusual since I told him that I was only coughing when it was productive. His office staff, however, I've always found a little off.
Today was outrageous. The receptionist was, in my opinion, a word that should not be used on a family blog. Rude, self-important and very unhelpful. It turns out that Angela needs to be seen by the doctor, not just have the throat culture. By this point, I'm seeing various shades of red and I demand to see the head nurse. Instead of calming me down (which would have been fairly easy -- I've been in situations where I have to calm unreasonable people down), she makes it her business to show how she's right.
By the time Angela walked out after waiting for a good while without still having been seen, we had both already decided that we need a new primary care physician. And this time, we're doing what we did when we had to look for a pediatrician: ask for advice first.
How the day got better: For my shorts class, I was looking for serials. It turns out that Georgetown has a fairly extensive collection on VHS; when I went to our library on Monday to try to get a copy to screen, however, I found that it would not arrive in time for today's screening. My only hope was to try to find something at a local video store. I had already called my local store in Takoma Park which, oddly, had nothing.
Fortunately, I happen upon Potomac Video on Connecticut Avenue and quickly perused their shelves, whereupon I find an old copy of King of the Rocket Men. Upon viewing the whole series (mostly in fast forward due to time constraints) to find the right episode to screen, I discover that not only is this hysterically bad (and therefore perfect for class) but also features in the lead roles a group of... PHYSICS PROFESSORS! These professors, by the way, do very little actual phsyics-ing and a lot of punching and gun-shooting and flying with a ridiculous atomic flying suit. Believe it or not, this is actually useful for a minor research topic I've been floating around (thanks to Dr. Dr. Kaiser, a.k.a. he who now has a doctorate for each one of his adorable twin babies). Plus, this made me giggle tremendously while watching it. Completely unexpected, the serial tickled me greatly -- and it went over really well in class, too! Hooray!
(Preview for tomorrow: My sister-in-law is in town! Let's see what happens as she becomes the first family member from Peru to meet the little boy...)
Friday, June 24, 2005
Random thought on creative facial hair
People I'd like to see with a soul patch:
- MIT history of science professor David I. Kaiser
Actually, that's about it. I'll quit while I'm ahead.
Monday, February 21, 2005
Six degrees of quantum mechanics
We had lunch with Dave and Tracy today, as promised. Since the University Club menu was so-so, we splurged and went to Chef Geoff's. (Mmmm.) Among other things, we chatted about some of the "weird student" stories that all of us professors have. Tracy mentioned the stigma of being "that girl" at Wellesley (as in "Who is that girl?" and "Why doesn't that girl ever shut up?") and I relayed the story of the student who fell asleep -- drunk, snoring loudly -- during a screening of Hitchcock's Notorious and who wouldn't wake up even when I started hitting him in the chest with some papers.
Dave had the story that had me in stitches for a while later. Dave is officially a faculty member of the Department of History of Science at MIT, but occasionally teaches in the physics department. (This is important information.) I was telling them about the bad movies I've forced upon my students over the past couple of years. Highlighted among these are two disco musicals which effectively killed the genre for almost 20 years in 1980: Can't Stop the Music, where the Village People are (brace yourselves...) straight, and Xanadu, where Gene Kelly gives his swan song performance on roller skates. "You realize, however, why I was fully justified in loving that film as a kid," I told them, thinking about my major crush on Olivia Newton-John. (It was 1980. I was 8. And she was on roller skates! How could I resist?)
"Sure," Dave said, "because Olivia Newton-John is the grandaughter of physics Nobel Laureate Max Born."
I thought Dave was kidding. But no, apparently it's true: she who was hopelessly devoted to me is apparently descended from the guy who theorized what an atom was. Who knew? This is the best part, however. He says that he mentions this is his undergraduate physics lecture all the time and that graduate students sit in every so often. Last year, one grad student -- remember: MIT, grad student physics, not your generic slacker -- just burst out from the back of the class upon hearing about Newton-John: "That is the best thing I've learned in this class all year." Uproar of laughter, followed by a heartfelt apology after class by the grad student to Dave. It completely tickled me, though.
This of course makes me wonder what's the fondest memory other people have of what is otherwise a horrible, forgettable movie. For me, oddly enough, it's a predecessor of Xanadu that I remember seeing in Lima while on vacation there as a kid: Roller Boogie, a 1979 vapid fantasy featuring Linda Blair on -- roller skates! You know that it's good if everyone's on roller skates. I remember being absolutely entranced, but the movie couldn't have possibly been good. (It has a rating of 2.5/10 on imdb.) I would love to see it again now with new, critical eyes, just to be properly horrified. Leave a comment below if you'd like relating the most horrifying movie you're just dying to see again.
Dave had the story that had me in stitches for a while later. Dave is officially a faculty member of the Department of History of Science at MIT, but occasionally teaches in the physics department. (This is important information.) I was telling them about the bad movies I've forced upon my students over the past couple of years. Highlighted among these are two disco musicals which effectively killed the genre for almost 20 years in 1980: Can't Stop the Music, where the Village People are (brace yourselves...) straight, and Xanadu, where Gene Kelly gives his swan song performance on roller skates. "You realize, however, why I was fully justified in loving that film as a kid," I told them, thinking about my major crush on Olivia Newton-John. (It was 1980. I was 8. And she was on roller skates! How could I resist?)
"Sure," Dave said, "because Olivia Newton-John is the grandaughter of physics Nobel Laureate Max Born."
I thought Dave was kidding. But no, apparently it's true: she who was hopelessly devoted to me is apparently descended from the guy who theorized what an atom was. Who knew? This is the best part, however. He says that he mentions this is his undergraduate physics lecture all the time and that graduate students sit in every so often. Last year, one grad student -- remember: MIT, grad student physics, not your generic slacker -- just burst out from the back of the class upon hearing about Newton-John: "That is the best thing I've learned in this class all year." Uproar of laughter, followed by a heartfelt apology after class by the grad student to Dave. It completely tickled me, though.
This of course makes me wonder what's the fondest memory other people have of what is otherwise a horrible, forgettable movie. For me, oddly enough, it's a predecessor of Xanadu that I remember seeing in Lima while on vacation there as a kid: Roller Boogie, a 1979 vapid fantasy featuring Linda Blair on -- roller skates! You know that it's good if everyone's on roller skates. I remember being absolutely entranced, but the movie couldn't have possibly been good. (It has a rating of 2.5/10 on imdb.) I would love to see it again now with new, critical eyes, just to be properly horrified. Leave a comment below if you'd like relating the most horrifying movie you're just dying to see again.
Sunday, February 20, 2005
Showering the Giant
Our amazing friends Jen, Jeff and Amy had a fantabulous baby shower yesterday where, among other things, we had to play a game where we had to guess various flavors of baby food. (The one that stymied us: corn, black beans and rice, basically a tamale in baby food form. Not yummy.) We had a lot of fun -- really, these baby showers are lots of fun, guys, why wouldn't you want to go? -- but the biggest surprise was to see the smiling faces of two other friends, Dave and Tracy.
As it turns out, Dave had let me know that he was coming to town from Boston to do some research in College Park; we had arranged lunch on or near campus so he could see Angela as well before he started work in earnest. This was all a big lie: he had already been here for a week for a conference and already did some research. When Jeff let them know about the shower, Tracy -- a.k.a. La Tenurada, having just gotten, becoming the first of our friends to get, tenure -- came down as well. So both Angela and I were truly shocked -- and immensely pleased -- to see them wander through the door.
They were free yesterday evening, so we invited them over for dinner and asked if they were interested in a movie. I had told them about Donnie Darko, which I thought was appropriate for them given their research interests (hers, concerning childhood development and imaginary friends, more than his, history of physics in post-WW2 America). I still had that on campus, however, so we chose an alternate: Brad Bird's The Iron Giant.
This is one of my favorite films and I don't know who is reading this blog (if anyone) but I highly recommend it: smartly written, beautifully drawn and definitely deserving of its PG rating. Not a cutesy film with cuddly creatures singing happy songs, but a solid animated work about what might have happened if science fiction came to life in 1950s' Maine and the titular giant metal man drops from the sky. My favorite character is the despicable coward Mansley, voiced by Christopher MacDonald, who tries to trick the boy Hogarth into telling him about the giant and is thwarted by, among other things, some crumbled-up chocolate laxative. (Xan will be forced to see it, but not right away.)
My students' reaction to the film has changed considerably over the last four years. I show clips every time I teach the general film class as examples of recent, gorgeous cel animation (fear not, Bugs Bunny is also represented) and students were pleased to learn of the film when I first started doing this about four years ago. Last semester, however, when I showed the clip, over half the class cooed with glee when I announced the clip. This actually makes some sense: the film was released in 1999, when my current students were about 12 years old. And although the film failed miserably in the theaters (bankrupting Warner Brothers' animation division, if I'm not mistaken), I suppose it must have found some life in the home video audience. Parents must have heard that it was a quality film (heck, it was given a seal of approval by Congress) and these kids have now grown up on it. People are now re-discovering the film because of Brad Bird's success with The Incredibles, which is all a very good thing.
Of course, the question now is: will Dr. Kaiser require viewing this film on his history of science syllabi at MIT later this year? Time will tell.
As it turns out, Dave had let me know that he was coming to town from Boston to do some research in College Park; we had arranged lunch on or near campus so he could see Angela as well before he started work in earnest. This was all a big lie: he had already been here for a week for a conference and already did some research. When Jeff let them know about the shower, Tracy -- a.k.a. La Tenurada, having just gotten, becoming the first of our friends to get, tenure -- came down as well. So both Angela and I were truly shocked -- and immensely pleased -- to see them wander through the door.
They were free yesterday evening, so we invited them over for dinner and asked if they were interested in a movie. I had told them about Donnie Darko, which I thought was appropriate for them given their research interests (hers, concerning childhood development and imaginary friends, more than his, history of physics in post-WW2 America). I still had that on campus, however, so we chose an alternate: Brad Bird's The Iron Giant.
This is one of my favorite films and I don't know who is reading this blog (if anyone) but I highly recommend it: smartly written, beautifully drawn and definitely deserving of its PG rating. Not a cutesy film with cuddly creatures singing happy songs, but a solid animated work about what might have happened if science fiction came to life in 1950s' Maine and the titular giant metal man drops from the sky. My favorite character is the despicable coward Mansley, voiced by Christopher MacDonald, who tries to trick the boy Hogarth into telling him about the giant and is thwarted by, among other things, some crumbled-up chocolate laxative. (Xan will be forced to see it, but not right away.)
My students' reaction to the film has changed considerably over the last four years. I show clips every time I teach the general film class as examples of recent, gorgeous cel animation (fear not, Bugs Bunny is also represented) and students were pleased to learn of the film when I first started doing this about four years ago. Last semester, however, when I showed the clip, over half the class cooed with glee when I announced the clip. This actually makes some sense: the film was released in 1999, when my current students were about 12 years old. And although the film failed miserably in the theaters (bankrupting Warner Brothers' animation division, if I'm not mistaken), I suppose it must have found some life in the home video audience. Parents must have heard that it was a quality film (heck, it was given a seal of approval by Congress) and these kids have now grown up on it. People are now re-discovering the film because of Brad Bird's success with The Incredibles, which is all a very good thing.
Of course, the question now is: will Dr. Kaiser require viewing this film on his history of science syllabi at MIT later this year? Time will tell.
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