Wednesday, November 14, 2012
NHL lockout
I've been a diehard Bruins fan since 1954. I stopped going to games when the new Garden was built, and ticket prices rose to prohibitive levels. In my younger days I spent many hours in Boston bars sharing beers with the likes of Pie McKenzie, Teddy Green, Harry Sinden, Sanderson, Espo and the rest of them. But I'm giving up with this latest fiasco. Screw 'em all. There's plenty of good college hockey around the area, the AHL is nearby, local Junior teams and high schools are either playing now or are soon to start. Plus I love watching college football, and I've grown to enjoy EPL soccer (love games with no commercial breaks). So who needs the NHL?
Monday, November 12, 2012
Reflections on teaching from 2005
I wrote this 8 years ago. My thoughts haven't changed, although my health insurance contribution certainly has.
In relation to education, I have some thoughts from the perspective of having just retired from teaching and coaching for 35 years at a public high school inMassachusetts
Merit pay: In theory, good; in practice, terrible. Too much of good teaching is subjective. I have prevented suicides, helped keep families together, served as a surrogate father many times, written countless letters of recommendation, helped many players and students get college scholarships, solved countless discipline problems. None of these things would be factors in merit pay as I've seen it. In coaching one can have inferior players, do a great job with them, and still lose. The same is true in the classroom. Judge me by the scores of my honors and A.P. kids and I'll be a hero. Judge me by the scores of the lower level, non-college bound kids, and I may be a stiff, even though I may do a better job in the classroom with them.
Teacher pay: Anyone entering education knows that the pay is less than in the corporate world. As an Ivy League graduate, I've have many friends who are in the highest economic echelon. But teachers get paid in other ways. An anecdote: at one college reunion a fraternity brother who owns one of the biggest private companies in the world expressed envy that my wife and I were able to take a 7 week camping trip with our kids around the country one summer. He said that he would never be able to do anything like that. In the time vs. money trade off, we've opted for time. And we've always made enough money to own a house outright, have no car payments and put two kids through college without their having any loans to repay. It's called living beneath one's means and being frugal, but not anal.
Retirement: The plum of a teaching career is the pension. I get 80% of the average of my last three years pay. Without having to pay into the retirement system (16%) and having to pay state taxes (5.9%), I take home more retired than I did working. I currently pay $145/month for health insurance and the school district pays the rest, but that could change with each new contract. I don't get social security, but my wife will. All in all, a pretty good deal since I'm 57.
Administrators: The best place to be in education is in the classroom. The further removed from the kids one gets, the more aggravation one has and the less reward. But if you want more pay, you have to get into administration. It shouldn't be that way.
Respect: Any teacher who looks to the general public for respect is wasting his time. You get your respect from the kids in front of you every day, from their parents when you see them in the supermarket, from your former students who buy you a beer in a bar or stop by to say hello in a restaurant or fix your plumbing or do electrical work and just charge for the parts. But that's evidentally a difficult concept for many in our materialistic, money-grubbing society to grasp.
Anyway, we may not be millionnaires, but with the pension and our 403b money, we can pretend we are.
In relation to education, I have some thoughts from the perspective of having just retired from teaching and coaching for 35 years at a public high school in
Merit pay: In theory, good; in practice, terrible. Too much of good teaching is subjective. I have prevented suicides, helped keep families together, served as a surrogate father many times, written countless letters of recommendation, helped many players and students get college scholarships, solved countless discipline problems. None of these things would be factors in merit pay as I've seen it. In coaching one can have inferior players, do a great job with them, and still lose. The same is true in the classroom. Judge me by the scores of my honors and A.P. kids and I'll be a hero. Judge me by the scores of the lower level, non-college bound kids, and I may be a stiff, even though I may do a better job in the classroom with them.
Teacher pay: Anyone entering education knows that the pay is less than in the corporate world. As an Ivy League graduate, I've have many friends who are in the highest economic echelon. But teachers get paid in other ways. An anecdote: at one college reunion a fraternity brother who owns one of the biggest private companies in the world expressed envy that my wife and I were able to take a 7 week camping trip with our kids around the country one summer. He said that he would never be able to do anything like that. In the time vs. money trade off, we've opted for time. And we've always made enough money to own a house outright, have no car payments and put two kids through college without their having any loans to repay. It's called living beneath one's means and being frugal, but not anal.
Retirement: The plum of a teaching career is the pension. I get 80% of the average of my last three years pay. Without having to pay into the retirement system (16%) and having to pay state taxes (5.9%), I take home more retired than I did working. I currently pay $145/month for health insurance and the school district pays the rest, but that could change with each new contract. I don't get social security, but my wife will. All in all, a pretty good deal since I'm 57.
Administrators: The best place to be in education is in the classroom. The further removed from the kids one gets, the more aggravation one has and the less reward. But if you want more pay, you have to get into administration. It shouldn't be that way.
Respect: Any teacher who looks to the general public for respect is wasting his time. You get your respect from the kids in front of you every day, from their parents when you see them in the supermarket, from your former students who buy you a beer in a bar or stop by to say hello in a restaurant or fix your plumbing or do electrical work and just charge for the parts. But that's evidentally a difficult concept for many in our materialistic, money-grubbing society to grasp.
Anyway, we may not be millionnaires, but with the pension and our 403b money, we can pretend we are.
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Halloween
Halloween is a great day for anyone under 10 years old. At that age who wouldn't want to dress up in costume and head out around the old neighborhood to get candy from everyone? I remember a pack of us traveling around the Musterfield in Framingham with our pillow cases back in the early 50s. Then we grew up.
One funny story. When we were 13, a bunch of us were out marauding around the neighborhood on Cabbage Night, the night before Halloween when you were supposed to wreck stuff, when we passed by a house three blocks from mine. The house's owner was a real asshole, one of my paper route customers who never tipped and always bitched about his paper being late or being placed on the porch instead of inside the storm door. Against the side of the house lay a 10' ladder. "Let's grab the ladder," someone said. So we took the ladder and started running down the street with it. Almost immediately, the owner bounded out his front door, screaming, "Stop, you little bastards!!!" We kept running, but finally dropped the ladder.
That didn't stop the asshole, though. He kept coming. So we split up, heading in different directions hoping to lose him. About an hour later I finally felt safe enough to go home. On entering the house, my mother greeted me with the words, "Did he get you, too?" Playing dumb, I wondered what she was talking about. It turns out that when we split up, the guy kept chasing Binky Driscoll. Binky, not being from the neighborhood, didn't know where to go, so he ran into my house through the back door and hid in the foyer. The guy followed him in, found him, and knocked on the door. My mother answered, told the guy she'd take care of it, and the guy left. I was grounded for a month.
Binky went on to become a famous Vietnam War legend, an Ace as a Navy pilot, and recipient of the Navy Cross after getting shot down and rescued in the China Sea. His exploits have been documented in the TV series on famous air battles, he has served as an instructor at Top Gun, and he currently gives motivational speeches all over the country. But whenever I see him, the first thing he brings up is the ladder episode.
Halloween was always fun with my own kids. Then they grew up. My sons had about 10 other kids in the neighborhood to hang with, and on Halloween all their school friends would come to our neighborhood as well to raise hell. I dreaded Halloween. More than once I picked them up at the police station for doing stupid, nonsensical things like throwing eggs. They never got in trouble because I knew all the cops from having their kids or the cops themselves in class or on one of my teams. And when the kids from outside the neighborhood got chased, where did they head? Our house, of course.
Sometimes my kids were blamed on reputation alone. One Halloween at 9:00 PM we were sitting at our kitchen table with Brian and Mike eating candy when the phone rang. I picked it up, and an irate neighbor from the next block raged at me. "Hey, Mr. Crane, your goddamn kids are in the street throwing eggs at my house right now!" I said, "Are you sure?" He said, "Yeah, and I'm gonna call the cops." I was furious. "Listen, you asshole," I said. "My kids are sitting here with me right now at the kitchen table. Maybe you ought to look a little harder before you blame someone."
Now I tolerate Halloween. The neighbors with little kids bring them to the door, and they look cute in their costumes. For some it's the only time I see them all year. Nobody lets their kids out alone with their friends like when we grew up. Last year Jackie put a pumpkin suit on Spencer, our Golden retriever. We walked him around the neighborhood late, knocking on a few doors to trick-or-treat. He was a big hit. But the hood was quiet, a big diffference from years ago.
One funny story. When we were 13, a bunch of us were out marauding around the neighborhood on Cabbage Night, the night before Halloween when you were supposed to wreck stuff, when we passed by a house three blocks from mine. The house's owner was a real asshole, one of my paper route customers who never tipped and always bitched about his paper being late or being placed on the porch instead of inside the storm door. Against the side of the house lay a 10' ladder. "Let's grab the ladder," someone said. So we took the ladder and started running down the street with it. Almost immediately, the owner bounded out his front door, screaming, "Stop, you little bastards!!!" We kept running, but finally dropped the ladder.
That didn't stop the asshole, though. He kept coming. So we split up, heading in different directions hoping to lose him. About an hour later I finally felt safe enough to go home. On entering the house, my mother greeted me with the words, "Did he get you, too?" Playing dumb, I wondered what she was talking about. It turns out that when we split up, the guy kept chasing Binky Driscoll. Binky, not being from the neighborhood, didn't know where to go, so he ran into my house through the back door and hid in the foyer. The guy followed him in, found him, and knocked on the door. My mother answered, told the guy she'd take care of it, and the guy left. I was grounded for a month.
Binky went on to become a famous Vietnam War legend, an Ace as a Navy pilot, and recipient of the Navy Cross after getting shot down and rescued in the China Sea. His exploits have been documented in the TV series on famous air battles, he has served as an instructor at Top Gun, and he currently gives motivational speeches all over the country. But whenever I see him, the first thing he brings up is the ladder episode.
Halloween was always fun with my own kids. Then they grew up. My sons had about 10 other kids in the neighborhood to hang with, and on Halloween all their school friends would come to our neighborhood as well to raise hell. I dreaded Halloween. More than once I picked them up at the police station for doing stupid, nonsensical things like throwing eggs. They never got in trouble because I knew all the cops from having their kids or the cops themselves in class or on one of my teams. And when the kids from outside the neighborhood got chased, where did they head? Our house, of course.
Sometimes my kids were blamed on reputation alone. One Halloween at 9:00 PM we were sitting at our kitchen table with Brian and Mike eating candy when the phone rang. I picked it up, and an irate neighbor from the next block raged at me. "Hey, Mr. Crane, your goddamn kids are in the street throwing eggs at my house right now!" I said, "Are you sure?" He said, "Yeah, and I'm gonna call the cops." I was furious. "Listen, you asshole," I said. "My kids are sitting here with me right now at the kitchen table. Maybe you ought to look a little harder before you blame someone."
Now I tolerate Halloween. The neighbors with little kids bring them to the door, and they look cute in their costumes. For some it's the only time I see them all year. Nobody lets their kids out alone with their friends like when we grew up. Last year Jackie put a pumpkin suit on Spencer, our Golden retriever. We walked him around the neighborhood late, knocking on a few doors to trick-or-treat. He was a big hit. But the hood was quiet, a big diffference from years ago.
Mitt Romney
When people I meet on our travels learn I'm from Massachusetts, they often ask what Mitt Romney was like when he was governor. My first response is to tell them that he only served two years of his four year term. After two years he mentally checked out and began his interminable run for President.
Romney faced the usual dilemma of a Republican governor in Massachusetts, a legislature that is aound 95% Democrat. This makes a Republican governor pretty much a figurehead. The real power lies in the house speakership. Thus the famous Mass. healthcare law involved Romney merely rubber stamping the legislature's fomulation. Of course, as Romney is wont to do, when it was to his advantage, he was more than happy to take credit for it. And, when it was to his advantage, he could disavow its premises, saying that what was right for Massachusetts was not right for the rest of the country.
Romney talks out of both sides of his mouth so much that after a while you don't know who is the ventriloquist and who is the dummy. He sold whatever principles he has to the Tea Party and Grover Norquist in order to gain the nomination. Now in true Etch-a Sketch fashion, he turns his back on them to win the general election. How can one have any respect for someone like that? Would you want this guy in a foxhole next to you?
Romney faced the usual dilemma of a Republican governor in Massachusetts, a legislature that is aound 95% Democrat. This makes a Republican governor pretty much a figurehead. The real power lies in the house speakership. Thus the famous Mass. healthcare law involved Romney merely rubber stamping the legislature's fomulation. Of course, as Romney is wont to do, when it was to his advantage, he was more than happy to take credit for it. And, when it was to his advantage, he could disavow its premises, saying that what was right for Massachusetts was not right for the rest of the country.
Romney talks out of both sides of his mouth so much that after a while you don't know who is the ventriloquist and who is the dummy. He sold whatever principles he has to the Tea Party and Grover Norquist in order to gain the nomination. Now in true Etch-a Sketch fashion, he turns his back on them to win the general election. How can one have any respect for someone like that? Would you want this guy in a foxhole next to you?
George McGovern
I can't let the recent passing of former presidential candidate George McGovern go without comment. In the summer of 1972, at the heart of the anti-Vietnam War fervor in America, McGovern won the Democratic nomination at their convention. My wife Jackie and I were in San Diego midway through our newlywed cross country camping tour. We had decided to opt for a cheap motel just to sleep in a bed and get a hot shower.
On a 13 inch black and white TV, we watched his acceptance speech. It began after 11:00 PM Pacific time, making it after 2:00 AM on the east coast. (This would never be allowed to happen today!) McGovern's speech, a riveting condemnation of the US intervention in Vietnam and an urgent appeal to elect him and end the war, nearly brought me to tears. I'll never forget his plea, "Come home, come home, America." He not only addressed this to bringing the troops home but also to bringing America back to healing the fratricidal wounds that the Vietnam debate had inflicted on this country.
Anyone who heard this speech could not help but be moved. Alas, hardly anyone heard it. In the end Nixon won an overwhelming victory, only Massachusetts and D.C. voting for George. History proved McGovern right, and Nixon's subsequent actions led to the famous bumper sticker "Don't blame me. I'm from Massachusetts."
On a 13 inch black and white TV, we watched his acceptance speech. It began after 11:00 PM Pacific time, making it after 2:00 AM on the east coast. (This would never be allowed to happen today!) McGovern's speech, a riveting condemnation of the US intervention in Vietnam and an urgent appeal to elect him and end the war, nearly brought me to tears. I'll never forget his plea, "Come home, come home, America." He not only addressed this to bringing the troops home but also to bringing America back to healing the fratricidal wounds that the Vietnam debate had inflicted on this country.
Anyone who heard this speech could not help but be moved. Alas, hardly anyone heard it. In the end Nixon won an overwhelming victory, only Massachusetts and D.C. voting for George. History proved McGovern right, and Nixon's subsequent actions led to the famous bumper sticker "Don't blame me. I'm from Massachusetts."
Sunday, October 7, 2012
European trip
Just back from 10 days in Northern Europe including a 7 day cruise. Some observations:
1. Hardly any males wear baseball caps, white athletic shoes, or white socks in Europe.
2. In Copenhagen and Amsterdam bikes are everywhere. I mean like thousands and thousands and thousands of bikes. Supposedly 36% of people in Copenhagen commute to work on bikes. The Amsterdam Central Rail Station has a bike parking garage that holds 2500 bikes. It was full. Separate bike lanes are built into all the streets, set off from the vehicles by a curb. My wife and I, avid cyclists, thought we might rent bikes there, but after witnessing the craziness, decided to opt for the relative safety of walking and using public transit.
3. Tours offered by the cruise lines are major ripoffs. Instead of paying for the $70 or $80 per person organized tours, we bought transit passes at the info centers for around $7 or $8 good for the whole day on any public conveyance. Armed with a transit map we were able to see everything on many of the tours at our own pace and mingle with the locals.
4. Except in Germany we found that the language barrier was no problem. That we visited major cities helped. In Copenhagen and Oslo everyone seemed to speak some English, to the point that you could stop someone on the street to ask directions and they would speak English. We were told that all the kids learned English in school.
5. How big are Nordic winter sports in Norway? At a stadium next to the famous Holmenkollen Ski Jump we watched contestants in a mid-September Nordic ski race enter the arena for their final lap. The cross country ski trails were paved and the skiers were on roller skis. The arena had several thousand spectators, a diamond-vision giant screen showing the action, and a huge electronic scoreboard with the updated results posted. When we returned to the ship, I turned on the TV and found the event being televised live on the Norway station.
6. On the train out to the ski jump outside Oslo, we passed a small stadium where an American football game was being played. It looked like a high school game. The stands were half full, and the one play I saw looked like any other football game in the USA. I was shocked.
7. Culture shock: When do Europeans use the bathroom? You would think that with thousands and thousands of people walking around, European cities would have ubiquitous public restrooms. Not so. Finding a "toilet" became one of the most difficult tasks of our excursions. A further shock: on finding one we normally had to come up with .75 Euro to use it. A dollar to piss ... talk about capitalism and a recession-proof business.
1. Hardly any males wear baseball caps, white athletic shoes, or white socks in Europe.
2. In Copenhagen and Amsterdam bikes are everywhere. I mean like thousands and thousands and thousands of bikes. Supposedly 36% of people in Copenhagen commute to work on bikes. The Amsterdam Central Rail Station has a bike parking garage that holds 2500 bikes. It was full. Separate bike lanes are built into all the streets, set off from the vehicles by a curb. My wife and I, avid cyclists, thought we might rent bikes there, but after witnessing the craziness, decided to opt for the relative safety of walking and using public transit.
3. Tours offered by the cruise lines are major ripoffs. Instead of paying for the $70 or $80 per person organized tours, we bought transit passes at the info centers for around $7 or $8 good for the whole day on any public conveyance. Armed with a transit map we were able to see everything on many of the tours at our own pace and mingle with the locals.
4. Except in Germany we found that the language barrier was no problem. That we visited major cities helped. In Copenhagen and Oslo everyone seemed to speak some English, to the point that you could stop someone on the street to ask directions and they would speak English. We were told that all the kids learned English in school.
5. How big are Nordic winter sports in Norway? At a stadium next to the famous Holmenkollen Ski Jump we watched contestants in a mid-September Nordic ski race enter the arena for their final lap. The cross country ski trails were paved and the skiers were on roller skis. The arena had several thousand spectators, a diamond-vision giant screen showing the action, and a huge electronic scoreboard with the updated results posted. When we returned to the ship, I turned on the TV and found the event being televised live on the Norway station.
6. On the train out to the ski jump outside Oslo, we passed a small stadium where an American football game was being played. It looked like a high school game. The stands were half full, and the one play I saw looked like any other football game in the USA. I was shocked.
7. Culture shock: When do Europeans use the bathroom? You would think that with thousands and thousands of people walking around, European cities would have ubiquitous public restrooms. Not so. Finding a "toilet" became one of the most difficult tasks of our excursions. A further shock: on finding one we normally had to come up with .75 Euro to use it. A dollar to piss ... talk about capitalism and a recession-proof business.
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
WTF, Installment #2
Today on my bike I passed 3 farms. Each one had about the same sized bags of "aged" cow manure for sale. At Farm A the price was $2, Farm B $3, and Farm C $4. This leads to several questions:
1. Is Farm C's manure twice as good as Farm A's? And if so, why?
2. Is "aged" cow manure better than fresh? Is cow manure like fine wine, better as it gets older? What's the optimum time for aging cow manure? How come cow manure isn't like fish or fruit which is best fresh? Restaurants always emphasize the catch of the day. ("The fish you eat today swam last night in Buzzards Bay.") Maybe farmers should line up their cows along the street and fill the bags "on demand."
3. Speaking of which, who fills up the bags? Is it done by machine? If not, how much does one get paid for filling bags of cow manure? Would one need a resume to apply for the job?
Just wondering.
1. Is Farm C's manure twice as good as Farm A's? And if so, why?
2. Is "aged" cow manure better than fresh? Is cow manure like fine wine, better as it gets older? What's the optimum time for aging cow manure? How come cow manure isn't like fish or fruit which is best fresh? Restaurants always emphasize the catch of the day. ("The fish you eat today swam last night in Buzzards Bay.") Maybe farmers should line up their cows along the street and fill the bags "on demand."
3. Speaking of which, who fills up the bags? Is it done by machine? If not, how much does one get paid for filling bags of cow manure? Would one need a resume to apply for the job?
Just wondering.
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