Classroom High: Discovery

I'm betting that for the next twenty months, there will be a new weekly feature on my blog titled "Andrea's Attempt to Come Down from the Classroom High."  I just love learning.  The flow of ideas, the discussion of point and counterpoint, and the opportunity to excel get me all pumped up, and even though it is after 10:00 and I should be exhausted from four hours of class, here I am recapping the second night of my masters program.

For me, tonight was all about self-discovery.  I discovered some things I didn't know about myself.  Re-discovered things I'd forgotten.  Was called out on things I'd maybe not like everybody to know about me just yet.

1. I talk really fast.  I know this.  You probably all know this.  This was an issue all throughout my undergrad work at the University of Phoenix, because the coursework calls for a ton of presentations.  On the feedback forms, my peers constantly commented that I talk too fast.  I don't know how I forgot about this, but tonight after my first group presentation of the program, the professor opened it up for critique.  One girl's hand flew up.  "You did a really great job of presenting the information, but you just talk so fast.  I honestly just can't listen that fast, and I kept getting lost."

2. I agree with a perennialist philosophy of education.  That basically means that I think if you teach a kid to think, he can master any concept.  Therefore, I think that teaching thinking is at the core of a teacher's responsibility.  Guess what?  In a class of 11 students, I am the only perennialist.

3. I may possibly be an elitist.  This one is a hard pill for me to swallow.  I attended private school K-8 (with the exception of an aforementioned terrible 7th grade year at Midvale Middle School in the the ALPS program), and I've spent my entire life trying to make sure that I am not a private school snob.  But based on my perennialistic educational philosophies and the fact that I also tend to agree more with Plato's idealism and Aristotle's realism than with the other general philosophies, all signs indicate that I am an elitist.

4. I have listening comprehension skills below that of a first grader.  Again, I know this.  If you looked at my SAT scores through grade school, you'd see a clear pattern indicating this is not my strong suit.  If you know my dad or brother, you'll also know it's a bit of an inherited trait.  But boy did I feel pretty stupid when after listening to the presentation of a story as it would be taught to a first grade class and being asked to hold up my picture of a bale of hay each time the story mentioned hay, I could not answer the simplest of questions.  "Why did [crap... I forgot the stupid bear's name.  Did I mention certain Casdorph's are also known for their short term memories?] get to go on a hay ride?"  No clue.  "When did [bear] go on a hay ride."  I looked at the visual aide and deduced from the night sky complete with harvest moon that the answer must be "at night."  I even vocalized said answer.  Guess what the correct answer was?  "Friday."

5. I blush deeply when I feel the spotlight on me.  After discovering I am the only perennialist in the class, the professor moved on to the elements of perennialism in the classroom.  Her PowerPoint slide read, "Education prepares you for life.  You don't have to find it relevant or interesting."  She paused and then asked the class if they'd heard me say something like that earlier in the evening.  Sure enough, in my portion of our group presentation just before asking the class to sing a drill, I explained that they don't have to like music, but they did have to participate.  She then called attention to the bottom of the slide and pointed out that in a perennialist view, the teacher's role is to "engage students in discussions that require analysis and evaluation of ideas."  She then pointed out that the activity portion of our group project (designed by me and taken straight from the lesson plan I am teaching to my 4th graders tomorrow) was precisely an analysis of our subject matter (form in music), and that of all the groups, ours was the only one which evaluated the student's learning and gave them instantaneous feedback.  I could not have provided a more textbook example of my education philosophy, and it was honestly a bit uncomfortable.

6. The other education philosophies aren't nearly as dumb as I originally thought.  After listening to my teammate Ben describe how, at the Title 1 schools where he teaches, his philosophy of Behavioral Constructivism is essential, I was able to gain an appreciation for others' points of view.  As he put it, if you can't keep a kid out of a gang, it really doesn't matter how much math he knows.

I have a feeling that this entire masters program will provide plenty of opportunities for introspection and hopefully plenty of nights where I need to unload an over-stimulated mind before bed.  I bet you didn't know you were all going to school with me!

Buried Treasure

Perhaps this post is best started with the announcement that the revolving doors of the Fife household have once again accepted house guests.  This time around, we're landlords, with paying renters making use of our extra bedroom and sharing the guest bathroom.  Lee and Mariah, thus far, are no trouble at all to have around, and we anticipate no trouble in the future.

A side effect of moving aside to share with others is an increased need to evaluate and re-vamp the storage areas of the house.  Closets, garage, living room ottomans, all needed a big makeover.  It was one of those it-gets-worse-before-it-gets-better projects, and for about two days, my house looked like Hurricane Katrina had come through.

But the game room closet now appropriately houses sewing and craft supplies, the downstairs shelves have been reorganized so that I can easily see which clothes will next fit Adam, Alex, or Dylan.  There's a specific box for Easter stuff, the guest bathroom stuff is tucked away, and the shelves are moved the 18" to the left that Kirk has wanted to do for years.  My music is now upstairs in the living room storage ottomans, within a few steps from the piano as it should be.  The dust is settling, and I feel inner peace of knowing there's a place for everything (though I rarely take that statement to the next step; just knowing there's a place is good enough for me).

The best part of the journey was that, though I am not a "keeper of stuff," I found several buried treasures through my journey.

From the ottomans (and I have no idea how it got there):

A letter from my mom - I am certain one of those Trek-inspired letters, but a great letter nonetheless.  My favorite excerpts:

"Your countless hours of practice on the piano have really paid off.  Do you remember when you first began I used to tell you that you needed to learn to play well enough to be of service to the church?  Well we could not begin to count the hours of service that you've already given, and I'm sure that you will continue to serve the Lord with your music for the rest of your life."

"I'm glad that you've always been a happy and busy daughter of God.  Continue to participate in everything and to encourage those around you, and the Lord will continue to bless you for your efforts."

From a back corner of the game room closet:

Kirk's notes in his planner outlining how to get to my house to pick me up for our first date.  Be sure to read the long house story to understand the significance.

A birthday card from my then-friend now-brother-in-law Brett Larsen, sent from his mission for my 20th birthday.  I can't really seem to choose a favorite excerpt, so here goes:

"Dear Andrea,

Well, this card isn't the same as it was in the store, somebody must have switched cards with me while I was paying for it.  The more I read it the stupider it gets, so I'm going to quit reading it and start writing.  Sound good to you.  Good.  Well, you are no longer a teenager.  It sucks huh, I wouldn't know cause I haven't even made it to the teen years mentally yet.  But I've been told it sucks.  Yes I'm in a weird mood.  Why, you ask?  Well, I don't know.  Maybe cause the guy we live with is a little weird, he woke us up at 4:00 in the morning watering the cement right underneath our open bedroom window.  Maybe cause I just saw a drop dead gorgeous girl at the store and I couldn't even flirt with her.  Maybe cause I got a shot in my Butt yesterday and it has hurt to sit down ever since.  (I could give you more details on that, but I'll spare you!!  Ok maybe I'm just plain weird.  Wait a second, this is your birthday card, not mine, on to you.  Well, I haven't seen you in a year, so I don't have a whole lot to really busy you about.  And your married, so I don't want to peeve your husband by making up some story.  And I can't even celebrate your birthday with you cause you happen to be quite far away from me at the time.  So I guess that all I can really do is tell you to Have a Happy Birthday! and I'll be there in spirit.  And another thing I can do is quit rambling to you can you can have your birthday make out session.  No not with me, you're married, that's a sin.  Take care.  Elder Larsen."

Chuck-E-Cheese pictures were Kirk wasn't even in the same picture as me.  That one brings a self-explanatory smile.

Heartfelt Christmas cards from my generally emotionally unavailable sister Michelle, specifically outlining what a great husband I have.

From the Storage Room:

I located my old quadruple combination scriptures and decided that since Adam's reading has vastly improved, it's probably time for him to take real scriptures to church.  Cleaning them out for him, I came across a fun reminder from at least 12 years ago.  Those of you who've known me that long will enjoy it.

No, I'm not a keeper of stuff, but it was fun to find these items hidden among my years of accumulation. I'm glad I kept them if only to rediscover them yesterday, scan them in, blog about them...

and throw them away.

How a Fife Says Thanks

I've blogged before about the reasons why I love being a Casdorph.  But the best thing about getting married is that you get to be a part of an entirely new family, often one different from yours.  In my case, very different.   So it is with a bit of a disclaimer that I post the pictures of why it is so great to be a Fife.  I say now, scroll down at your own risk.

First, though, I'll post a few nice pictures of the family together for Thanksgiving.  Mom Fife made a wonderful meal, and Mark and Rachel's deviled eggs were a bit tangier than usual - just the way I like them. I ate too much jello (thanks Marie) and way too many rolls (par for the course).  While the big boys watched football and the little boys played in the yard, I enjoyed casual conversation and kept my nose in a book.  All in all, it was a perfect holiday.

Aunt Marie and Aunt Heather spoiled Dylan, cuddling him whenever possible, and Aunt "Ri" sang through "The Itsy Bitsy Spider" several times.  I'm grateful to have sisters-in-law whose children are far past the cuddly-needy stage D is in and who enjoy picking up some of my slack.

But the defining moment of the day was catching Heather red-handed with my camera, and then scrolling through to see this:

Thankfully, these are not what they look like.  Touch your shoulder and look at the crease of your elbow.  Go ahead... do it...

Yeah, she convinced her husband, my mother-in-law, and Aunt "Ri" to model their elbow butts for my camera.

Nice.

And that is how a Fife says thanks.

My Little Corner of Geek

I'd like to think everybody has that thing they get all geeked up about.  Star Wars, Twilight, Harry Potter.  World of Warcraft.  For me, it's a fictional place called Pern.

I was hooked on Pern when, in 6th grade, we read the first book in a trilogy, Dragonsong.  The main character, Menolly, was the daughter of a craftsman in the Fishcrafthall.  Her true passion and talent, however, was for music.  When she sliced her hand gutting fish, her mother - an expert healer - purposely stitched it up incorrectly to prevent Menolly from becoming a harper (musician).

Menolly lives on a planet called Pern, where the biggest threat to life comes in the form of Thread, which falls from the sky like rain and kills any living thing it touches.  The only thing which can kill Thread is flame, and the most effective warriors against it are dragons.  Each dragon has a rider on whom they've impressed, or bonded telepathically.  The political structure of the Weyrs (groups of dragons and their riders) is as ornate as it is interesting, as is the manner in which the Weyrs fit into the overall structure of Pern.

Each citizen of Pern belongs either to a Weyr, to a Hold, or to a Crafthall.  Each Hold (somewhat like a city) has its own Lord, or governing official.  The Holds pay a tithe to the Weyrs for protection from Thread.  The Crafthalls train professionals in areas such as harpers, fishers, farmers, miners, and printers.  These craftsmen are then assigned to various Holds to carry out the duties which they've learned.  The Hold supports the craftsmen in their area.

There are over 25 books set on Pern in various periods of the planet's history.  I've read them all, many more than once.  Even now as I think of it, I am a bit mentally lost on Pern.  I remember characters like Moretta who risked her life to go back in time to bring forward several Weyrs to save Pern when Thread unexpectedly returns.  That I remember any detail at all is a testament to how much I love these books.  Ask me the name of the characters of the book I finished earlier this week, and I likely can't tell you.

So why am I getting my geek on today?  Anne McCaffrey, my favorite author of all time and creator of Pern, passed away at the age of 85.  It's just kind of weird.  I never really thought of her as a person before.  Just a name to spout in answer to the frequently asked question.

In tribute, I am going to read a book of hers that I've not yet read, The Ship Who Sang.  It isn't a Pern book, so I've not yet come across it.  But I owe to Anne McCaffrey my early love of science fiction and fantasy, and I want to do something to honor her legacy.

Thank you, Anne McCaffrey, for creating my little corner of geek.

**Update**
Such a geek am I that I'm worried those of you not familiar with Pern will think the things on the cover of Dragonsong with Menolly are dragons.  They aren't.  They're firelizzards.  Just sayin'.

A Tale of Three Cities

Over the last two weekends, I have seen no less than 5 musicals.  While I thoroughly enjoyed the Empress Theatre's Forever Plaid and a stake production of Joseph..., it was the three high school musicals to which I was looking most forward.  Never having been to a production at any of these schools, I had no idea what to expect - which was half the fun!  I was surprised in mostly good ways by three productions at three schools in three different cities.

Bye Bye Birdie
School: Cottonwood High School
Who I Know: Adam Wilkins, Director
My Date: Some cute guy I met named Kirk

The Good:
Cottonwood used a very talented, quite large, live orchestra.  The live overture, played from an actual orchestra pit, added that extra something that just puts you in the mood for a great show.  Kirk said he'd never seen people clap for the overture; I commented that maybe he's never seen them deserve it.

The set incorporated stairs and platforms to give great places for its 80+ cast.  The varying levels added texture to both the blocking and choreography, especially in large group numbers.

Areas for Improvement:
Sadly, the choreography was largely non-existent.  Even Kirk picked up on it, jokingly impersonating the choreographer, "Ok... we're going to bounce.  And then... we're going to bounce this way."  Bye Bye Birdie, like most musicals, relies on production numbers to keep the audience awake.  This one didn't succeed.

I was also somewhat unimpressed by the vocal direction.  Harmonies, when present, were frequently out of tune.  Many of the leads seem to have been cast in parts outside their vocal range.  Surprisingly, despite their large cast, chorus numbers were very difficult to hear.

The sound system did nothing to add to the show; many microphones sounded like they were in a tunnel, and several others worked only intermittently.

Summary:
I enjoyed many of the characters portrayed on stage, and Conrad Birdie had a very nice voice.  Overall, however, there was little I could grab onto and just love.  I left feeling like the show did not reach its potential.

West Side Story
School: Granger High School
Who I Know: Luke Johnson (Student Director), JJ Freeman, Cameron Sellers, Gum Marco, Denton Gno, Jamie Munson, Jeremy Gidney
My Date: Tess Fife (mother-in-law who happens to work at Granger)

The Good:
The choreography for West Side Story was imaginative and told the story well.  The movement was consistent with the mood and style of each piece, although there were many instances where I wished a bit more time had been spent in making the moves precise.

I loved the way Granger used lighting to influence the mood.  I found out after the fact that my friend Cameron actually designed the lighting.  The set, comprised of many large turning flats, worked well, and the scene changes were completed efficiently.

Areas for Improvement:
Granger's sound system was not much better than Cottonwood's, with mics frequently not working.  I recognize there is little the schools can do to fix this, but it still brings down the overall quality of the show.

The girl playing Maria did not quite have the upper range for the role, and her high notes frequently came across as shrill and piercing.

Summary:
What Granger did best was to capture the mood of a hard-to-tell story.  Although there were technical things I would have changed, the cast helped me to feel this story.  I was very impressed by the girl who played Anita, and I thoroughly enjoyed the majority of the male leads.  All in all, this was a very good production.

Guys and Dolls
School: Cyprus High School
Who I Know: Roy Nichols III, Evan Brown, Tane' Glaus, Dustin Hamp, Warren Tharp, Caleb Aston, Perry Whitehair, Arvid Bryce Johnson, Aleea Brunson
My Date(s): Arlee Heslop, Skyler Bluemel-Fife, Adam Fife (for the first act)

The Good:
Harmonies that were in tune.  Microphones that worked.  A chorus that I could hear.  Clean, creative choreography.  Leads cast in appropriate vocal ranges (mostly).  Perfect costumes.  Amazing set/set changes.  Impressive detail in the characterization.  You name it, I pretty much loved it.

Adelaide was amazing.  The two guys who play Nathan Detroit's buddies were AMAZING.  The actors had been trained to hold the end pose of their song while the audience clapped.  And - let me tell you - the audience clapped.  I swear "Luck be a Lady" almost got a standing ovation.  I'd have stood if someone else did.

Areas for Improvement:
I still didn't love the leading lady here.  Across all three schools, the range of the ingenue seemed to be just beyond the range of the girl cast to play her.

Although I loved Roy Nichols III in the role of Sky Masterson, sometimes I wished he didn't lay on the character voice so thick.  In the moments where Sky's honesty should have shown through, the character voice (especially in his singing), made me feel a bit detached from the emotion.  I do wonder, though, if I'd have picked up on that if I didn't know Roy.

Summary:
Guys and Dolls was a great, high-energy end to my High School Musical weekend.  Even though the show was nearly 3 hours long, I never felt the energy lag.  I really couldn't have asked for more from this great production.

I am sad I missed Alta's Crazy for You, where I could have supported a few other friends and seen Susan DeMill's choreography.  I'm thinking that with my involvement with youth in the area, this pre-Thanksgiving musical tour may become a bit of a tradition for me.  Thanks to the great shows I saw, I am already looking forward to next year.

Follow by Email

Okay, this post is going to sound super egotistical.  Oh well.

For the last quite a while, I've had Facebook set to import my blogs as notes.  Many of you have been reading and commenting that way, and I've really enjoyed reaching an audience outside the actual blogosphere.  Sadly, that feature is going away tomorrow.  Although I write my blog for me, both as a family history and as a method of relaxation, it kind of makes my day when you guys read it.

So, if you got here from a Facebook note, do me a favor and click on the link to see the original post.  I've added a new feature to my actual blog, "Subscribe by email."  If you don't want to have to actually visit my blog, but you still want to read my stories, that's a pretty good way of doing it.  You'll get the full text of the blog plus pictures sent straight to your inbox, no extra clicking involved.

If you want to make sure you don't miss any of my craziness (falling into ice cream), the kids' antics and updates, my occasional rants, and my obnoxious opinions, head over there and subscribe.

Yep.  Egotistical.  Oh well.

Process

"I put my pants on just like everyone else... one leg at a time."

Eating a bowl of cereal isn't like eating an Oreo or a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup.  It's one of those things that most people just do the same way.  Put cereal and milk in the bowl.  Eat it.  Period.

Of course, there are exceptions.  When eating Marshmallow Mateys (seriously... who actually buys Lucky Charms?) many of us probably save the marshmallows for last.  As kids, my sisters and I used to try to guess the number of pieces in a bowl of Honey Buzzers (HoneyComb...) and then count each piece as we ate.  Sure, I'll occasionally eat my Fruity O's by color; who doesn't?

But still, the process is the same.  You just eat the cereal.  Then, if you're a milk drinker, you drink the milk.

Not Dylan.  On a personal mission to challenge anything considered conventional, he developed his own process early on.  He drinks the milk first, then eats the cereal.  On particularly thirsty mornings, he demands that I refill the milk in his bowl, and he'll drink two or three helpings before touching the cereal.  I think it's weird.  I think it is adorable.  I think it is perfect, and I hope he never stops.

What could be more fun than sitting around as a family talking to Dylan's new wife and having her comment on how weird it is that he drinks the milk first?

But I imagine he'll outgrow it, and all I will have left is this blog to remind me of his own little process.