Tag Archives: education

You Can Learn a Lot from Trump

First off, a quick thank ye to all those who are still following and maybe even reading me, and those who just started following, liking, commenting, etc.  I even thank you weirdos who left me the bizarrely critical comments cause gosh you’re fun.  I haven’t been writing as much, but I’m hoping to pick up on this because the counselor says it’s good to get out my Alice Rage in other ways than, say, strangling a coworker because MY GAWD he is STILL slamming the stapler from what seems like a distance of 10 feet so that it goes KABAMMMM and I jump out of my seat.  #bekindtostaplers

How am I supposed to concentrate on facebook when he's making noise?

How am I supposed to concentrate on work when he’s making noise?

I just had a relaxy moment. Back now!  Yes, now that I’m relaxed I should discuss what’s happened so far in my world.  I got knocked down, but I got up again, you ain’t never gonna keep me down so give me some booze and I will piss the night away.  Or something.  And in world news, our new president continues to do in just a few weeks what it took a couple of years for George W. Bush to do – make every country hate us.  He’s been all crank calling foreign leaders askin them what his job is, puttin’ em on notice, threatening war – what a hoot.  He even picked on Australia.  You know – all those Australian terrorists with their suicide bomber kangaroos.  No one ever sees that coming.

I kind of wish President Cheeto would quit doing that.  You know – talking. And tweeting.  And – making that face, just stop, stop now. But there is one thing I have to give Trump – he’s making people learn more about government right along with him. For instance, presidential cabinet positions keep getting filled, and for the first time people are caring because we’re wondering if he will literally put a Schnauzer (as long as it’s rich and white)  in one of the seats.  We just got a Secretary of Education who knows nothing about children, public schools or, uh, education since she failed her exam massively during try-outs.

Not sure who made this but thanks, Internet!

Not sure who made this but thanks, Internet!  Clearly the top person for the job!

I first learned about this via my regular news: comedy shows, but I wanted to learn more so I actually watched the real clips.  Bernie Sanders, Al Franken, Tim Kaine (remember him?  Hillary’s VP pick?  He’s actually pretty good), and Elizabeth Warren just bullied poor Betsy with crazy questions like are you for equal education for all, or did your family donate a few hundred million dollars to the Republican party, or what’s a school?   “I’ll study that!” she says, which is probably the first time she’s promised to study anything at all.  Al Franken said “I’m surprised – no actually I’m not,” which was absolutely hilarious totally out of line!  I might have watched the clips of them torturing her several times on youtube.  Education can be fun!

We also learned that banning a huge group of people from coming to our country (no matter how legal they are) based only on religion and nationality is ding ding ding against the constitution!  And federal judges – we have those! – have blocked it, for now.  We learned more about executive orders, like how a big wad of bacteria can sneak himself onto the nations’ security council by just slipping that in along with something else stupid, like building a wall to keep people of another nationality out because they are all bad hombres who sell drugs and rape and murder people.

Also we got educated that there is no such thing as terrorism by white people. I am so relieved.

Soon I’m sure we’ll learn more about foreign relations by going to war with them, as we have with past presidents, only this time it won’t take as long.  This learning is hurting my brain, and I’m exhausted already, and we aren’t through the first month yet.  And it’s not just us.  Other countries are also getting tired of all this education.  So I have a solution.  We move, but not to Canada (I’m sure you guys are next on the terrorist watch list, hide yo wives, hide yo kids).  No, we’re going to Nanalan, a place Thing Two introduced me to, and which we have had endless fun with, in spite of this show supposedly just being for children.  It acts as a kind of natural tranquilizer, like Bob Ross, only with puppets.  Take a look!

But wait, there’s more.  Like there’s an adventure with “a Lolly”!   I’ll show you in other posts.  Yes, we have no idea what Yoda’s love child here is saying, though props to the person for attempting to translate, but words no longer make sense in the real world either, so why here?  I’ll be with puppets eating peepos if you need me.

P.S. I have been very bad about going through my reader – it takes too much from my tiny hamster brain.  So if you will leave me links to you recent posts right here, I’ll read them and try to catch up.  Peepo.

Alice

 

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My MLS Degree: An Experiment in Abnormal Psychology

Master of Information!  See?  I'm important!

Master of Information! See? I’m important!

As most of you know, I work at a university library. Before I got there, I was a public library underling who worked for a boss some employees nicknamed “Satan”.  Since librarian seemed like a great career choice at the time (I was smoking something), I jumped at the chance to enter a cohort of public librarians who were given a a “free” online degree.  The same grant also allowed us to attend three library conferences.  It sounded like a really great opportunity.  Then I found out my evil boss was also in the program.  And stuff went downhill from there.

I happened to keep a log of my time in the program.  The other day I stumbled upon it, and thought it might serve as a warning to others.  I put it into four parts.  Here’s part one.

I will not detail the joy that was getting into the program in the first place since no one really understood or kept to the rules and procedures (first warning).  Also, I’ll forgo explaining the trials and tribulations of getting enrolled in a university from a distance of over six hours travel compounded by the fact that at this particular university the right hand not only didn’t know what the left hand was doing; it didn’t know that there was a left hand.  I’ll just start with the first part of the program – our orientation in Denton.

I'm excited.  What could go wrong?

I’m excited. What could go wrong?

Orientation Ahoy (January 2008)

·         I make plans to attend orientation with another student from the program.  My certifiable (and I don’t mean degrees here) boss informs me that she too has been accepted into the program and has decided to join us on the six hour car trip.  My coworkers begin penning my obituary.

·         My mother steps in and offers to carpool with me and visit her sister while I’m in the meetings.  She is immediately promoted to sainthood.  My boss expresses (repeatedly) her disappointment in not getting to torture me for hours in a trapped space.

·         I arrive in Denton and have no idea where to go.  I find others who also don’t know.  Little do I know that this will become a pattern from now on.

·         Eventually, we find where to meet.  First off is a “fun” activity involving asking people dumb questions about where they’re from etc in order to be eligible for some prize.  Or something.  I forget now.  But I said screw it and didn’t complete mine.  We are also given nice red bags with our group title on it (though no one can remember what it stands for already) and neato folders and a binder.  I love free stuff.  At this point, I still don’t realize that nothing is ever free.

·         We go to a room with lots of computers.  Dr. M, who seems like an intelligent, amiable individual explains the program. Dr. J, the dean, also speaks to us though we have trouble seeing her over our desks.  We then meet the faculty who deviously appear to be normal humans.  We experiment with computers and the faculty rapidly discover just how technologically stupid the majority of us are.  Dr. M. begins debating early retirement.

·         We meet our pseudo-mom graduate assistant Cherri who plies us with chocolates, most likely laced with something that turns the majority of the group into Stepford Librarians.

·         I’m pretty sure this is where we were first introduced to the concept of “mentors”.  I wonder if they will be training us to be Jedi (help me Obi Wan!) but it turns out they only want to train us to be librarians which is strange since most of the cohort already work as library directors.  Maybe they’ve been doing it wrong all this time.  We meet Dr. G. who has been specially brought here for her expertise in Jedi – er – librarian mentor stuff.

·         We go to the hotel.  I am roomed with another cohort.  They apparently think we are from a very different sort of group because they give us one bed.  Some of the group members have trouble finding their names on the reserve list.  Obviously this is the fault of those silly hotel people.

·         The next morning, the program heads discover there is no free breakfast (totally not their fault either) and so arrange for free full breakfasts for our group.  The hotel room is really nice as well.  Welcome to my parlor, says the spider to the fly!

Hee hee hee oh . . . oh it said annals . . .

Hee hee hee oh . . . oh it said annals . . .

First Spring Semester (Jan – May 2008): The Horror that is Blackboard (Bb)

·         First one bites the dust.  One student quits immediately following orientation.  Naturally she is a member of my “group”

·         I discover there is group work.  In college.  With fellow students miles apart.

·         Except one student – my boss – who is rapidly resembling the Evil Queen from Snow White.  Guess who’s the stepchild?

·         I am put in her group.  Someone in the program hates me.

·         Our first professors are Dr. M. and Dr. B.  Dr. B., who has a fantastic personality in person, has no personality online.  In fact, he repeatedly ceases to exist leaving us to the mercy of his grad assistant, George “Cut and Paste and Good Luck” Yi.

·         No one understands how to use Bb (our online classroom).  What’s with all the links?  Why have so many links that don’t go anywhere and some that go everywhere at once?  Why isn’t homework just put under a homework tab?  Why don’t the links work?  What planet am I on?  We ask George who cuts and pastes the original instructions that no one understands.

·         Eventually, we figure out that Bb is another word for “scavenger hunt”.  Several people have their first nervous breakdowns.  Cherrie becomes chief psychiatrist as well as grad assistant.  She starts counting the days till she graduates.

·         The message board fills to the brim and resembles the Internet at large.  Roughly 1 percent of posts have to do with anything remotely important.  The rest is crap.  You have to click on every one to figure out which is which.

·         I learn that many of my classmates got their bachelor’s degrees from Cracker Jack boxes.  Some don’t understand basic punctuation or grammar.   And naturally, these people are all in my group.

·         The cohort discovers the joy of Wiki and start pages with cell phone numbers and birthdays.  One student begins celebrating our birthdays whether we like it or not with posts on the cohort board.  We all say happy birthday to each other.  Over and over.  This student ends up having to congratulate herself because no one else ever reads the Birthday Wiki but her.

I      A fellow student and I bond over bad bosses (she calls hers “Dead Alien Soul Boss”).  In order to combat the insanity, we take it upon ourselves to entertain the class with our wisecracks on the message boards.  My boss sneers “They sure do think you’re FUNNY, Alice.”  I detect a definite hint of green to her skin.  Heh.

·         My elder daughter spends two nights in the hospital with dehydration.  (My pediatrician says she dehydrates faster than any kid she knows.  Yay, we’re number one!)  I email my professors with the situation.  Dr. B. replies roughly a month after she’s released.

They have booze here!  And books!  And booze!

They have booze here! And books! And booze!

·         First TLA meeting!

        I wriggle out of another carpool offer with Senora Psycho and book my plane as soon as possible.  I have to dig the money out of savings, but hey, we’ll get stipends as soon as we get there that will pay us right back.

·         We discover that to use the stipends, you have to go to a bank.  In Dallas.  Guess how many people have banks in Dallas?

·         At TLA, we find out another one bit the dust.  Sherri has left.  I’d have at least taken the free trip on them first.

·         Some worry about homework and actually attempt to do it while there.  I take part in a first mutiny of people who refuse to do squat the entire time.

·         I discover that our food stipends are to pay for real food, not conference and hotel food.  At 25 bucks for breakfast alone, I find myself eating so much granola I nearly turn into a squirrel.

·         Boss lady (fellow cohort!) decides to play “nice” which makes her even scarier.

·         Who cares about the actual conferences (except Dave Barry who was awesome)?  70 percent of my time I spend in the exhibit hall grabbing every free book in sight until I am loaded down like a deranged bag lady.  I don’t even like half of the books, but they’re free!  Also, the exhibit hall is a good place to hide from you-know-who.

·         20 percent is spent in line getting book autographs.

·         5 percent eating – mostly granola, but also free nibbles at the parties.  There are no free drinks, but plenty of open bars.  I mean absolutely everywhere.

·         4 percent in the actual sessions

·         1 percent sleeping.  Why the heck did they give us actual hotel rooms anyway?

·         Oh, also we meet our mentors for the first time.  Except for the cohort whose mentor dropped out.  But it’s okay, cause they will soon fix her up with another.  Who will also drop out.

·         I discover that things like taxi fare and parking are not included in the travel stipend I cannot access until I get home.

·         We survive the rest of the semester, and then cry when we realize that there are 5 more to go.

       To be continued . . .

T