We just got back from buying Noah some new sneakers. Last night, while I was reading to him as I do most school nights, Mel came in to say goodnight and discovered that his sneakers had become quite worn. So today we ran over to – I hate to say it – Wal-Mart to buy some sneakers and see if they might have some flip-flops for Zoë. Now I’ve ruminated in the past on the evils of Wal-Mart and I still feel that way for the most part, but when you’re scarping by and barely making ends meet, it’s really hard to ignore the savings realized at that place. As I looked around at the vastness of our particular big box, I remembered a short essay I wrote way back in the early history of Southern Transplant. I also realized how many truly unattractive people are at Wal-Mart, on both sides of the counter. Or maybe it’s just that there are a lot of really unattractive people in South Carolina and they just congregate at Wal-Mart - sort of a Club-Med for ugly people. Anyway, I recycled some old material here for you (something I imagine will happen numerous times in the future,) and freshened it up with a little original material at the end. It doesn’t reek too badly.
We went to one of those Mega Wal-Mart things the other day (or maybe it was Kmart, I don’t remember.) I have never seen so much food in one place before in my life. Where does all this stuff come from? I stood at the end of one aisle and two rows of snacks extended down beyond my vision. How many cans of Pringles have to be in any one place at any one time for the world to rotate? More importantly, has there ever been a time in history when someone needed to buy that many Pringles at once. And then, how exactly would you transport them all? Ironically, I was looking for some sour cream of the fat-free variety (an oxymoron in itself, I know,) but when I got to the dairy section (“You take the main aisle down about ¼ mile and get off at the pork rind end-cap, then stay to the left or you’ll end up in the cheese lane.”) I found that there were three huge empty shelves, but no fat-free sour cream. Ah, ha! I thought. Someone is at home right now making huge batches of fat-free onion dip for some big southern party thing that no one bothered to tell us about (they don’t tell northerners anything around here.) I grabbed a sour cream of the full-fat variety and ran! I don’t want to be around when they remember they forgot to get all those Pringles!
Ah, it’s amazing how well 90mg of prednisone a day will do as a muse.
As for our trip today, we were in search of shoes which are kept in a department buried in the back. Not quite a ¼ mile trek, but close – you take a right at the pork rinds instead of a left. We found the aisle with Noah sized sneakers and began our search. Mel found some camouflaged ones and pointed Noah toward them. “You might as well look for a size one if you can find it,” she said. Up to now, he’s been wearing size 13 youth shoes and she figured he might as well go bigger. I mean, it’s not like his feet are getting any smaller. Noah found a pair that he thought was really cool until he realized they were tie shoes. You see, Noah has made it to the grand old age of eight without ever leaning how to tie his shoes. Velcro is a wonderful thing but it has a tendency to wreak havoc with the acquisition of knot tying skills. When Noah noticed this obvious oversight by the shoe’s manufacturer, he quickly slid them back into their place. Knot tying is one of the skills we worked on in Cub Scouts this year so I took this opportunity to point out the fact that he wouldn’t be able to advance to Webelos next year if he didn’t learn to tie his shoes. Not a complete truth, but a useful misdirection at the time. “Oh, I guess so,” he said as he slid the box back off the shelf. He then searched for a place to sit and try them on. He slid off his old shoes and put on what, compared to the ones he had just removed, looked to me like shoes big enough for a clown. There were obviously too big for him but he slipped them on. “Oooo…,” he said, “These are too tight. They’re too small.” “How can that be?” I asked. I looked at his feet and the shoes looked plenty big enough. I asked him if there was any paper stuffed in the shoes. “No.” “Maybe you need to pull up your socks,” I suggested, “Maybe the socks have become bunched at the toes.” “Oh,” said Noah as he sat down and pulled off the shoes, “Maybe it’s because I have three pairs of socks on.” Um……ya think? At this point Mel rounded the corner and explained that Noah likes to sleep with his socks on (something I could never do no matter how cold I am,) and in the morning when he’s getting dressed he pulls the clean socks on over the dirty ones from the day before. In this case, being Wednesday, he was wearing three days worth of socks. Wednesday’s were over Tuesday’s which were over Monday’s. Eeew, gross! So I pealed off the two extra layers of hosiery and left Noah with his beginning of the week stockings. He then reapplied the footwear and stood up. “Do they still feel tight?” I asked knowing full well the answer. “No” was his simple reply. Gee, I wonder why. I rolled each of the two extra pairs of socks and stuck them in the small pockets of Noah’s sweat pants. He looked like an Oompa Loompa walking through the store. The cool camouflage sneakers are now part of the Hofmann inventory.
Hope everyone is happy and healthy.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Thursday, February 07, 2008
The IGP Meeting
A few posts ago, I talked about my friend Tommy’s clarity of thought when it came to choosing a presidential candidate based on their stance on several key issues. In a response to that posting, Couch Sal posed to me a question asking which issues facing us today do I feel passionate about. Having had some time to ponder that question, I’d have to say that education is the biggest issue for me followed very closely by healthcare (read Health Update and you’ll have a better understanding of my intimate relationship with our healthcare system.) I’ve long been of the belief that if we spent as much money on early childhood education as we do on national defense, we’d be a lot better off. Mind you, I'm not proposing that we spend the money on education instead of defense. Quite the contrary, I’m one of those rare liberals who believe in both strong social programs and a strong military – but that’s a discussion for another time.
And it isn’t all about spending but also about accountability and how funds are administered that I’m concerned about. In my mind, No Child Left Behind (NCLB) is one of the most detrimental and damaging programs ever to be inflicted on the education system in America. The concept that all children are created equal and can therefore be tested equally is ludicrous. And since funding is tied to student performance on the tests, there is a very big incentive for teachers to teach to the test rather than helping students develop skills that can be applied to a multitude to problems. While there is a lot of emphasis put on remedial education (to help improve a school’s performance,) there are no provisions for gifted or talented students. Also, the idea that knowledge of subject matter is a good measure of a person’s ability to teach is equally ridiculous - it is but a small fraction of a person’s ability to teach. I’ve know a lot of teachers in my life and many of them were brilliant minds in their respective fields but were completely inept in a classroom. I’ve also had the honor of knowing a lot of really great teachers – and some of them could have taught just about any subject regardless of their knowledge base.
What started me on this line of thinking was a meeting that Mel and I just had at the middle school with Zoë and a guidance councilor. As an eighth grader in South Carolina, Zoë has to create an Individual Graduation Plan (IGP.) This is but another insane procedure spawned by NCLB. She is only 14 years old, but now has to declare not only what career she would like to pursue, but also pick not one, but all four years worth of high school courses. She’s never been to the high school (except to perform in the auditorium.) She has no idea what the teachers are like. Heck, the councilor we met with couldn’t even tell us which courses out of the catalogue we had would be offered to her (in fact, the woman didn’t even have a course catalogue with descriptions – we only had one because Mel had printed it off the internet.) And yet, we’re supposed to intelligently (and quickly,) design a four year course of study for her. To add to the frustration, not one of the career clusters (which you have to pick from,) comes anywhere close to preparing her for archeology - which is the career she is interested in today. Did I mention she’s only 14? This choice could change by dinner time yet alone over the next four years. Everyone we’ve heard speak on this procedure, including the councilor today, has repeatedly stated that the student is free to make changes to their IGP over time. But what they don’t tell you is that a school’s outcomes assessment is positively affected by the number of students who successfully complete their chosen cluster. This means that school funding is adversely affected by those students who change clusters during their high school tenure. So while they tell you that you can make changes, there is every incentive for them to keep you in the cluster you chose. There’s NCLB rearing its ugly head again.
On top of all this, the poor woman who was trying to help us was more than just a little flustered by the whole situation. She complained about the lack of information she was given as evidenced by the fact that we were in possession of a much more detailed course list than she had. She complained about the software that she had to use that kept freezing up. She was more than a little taken aback by the amount of information Mel came into the meeting with – I got the feeling that she didn’t deal with many parents who came in already knowing how the system works (or doesn’t work, depending on your perspective.) At one point, while we were discussing the need for Zoë to take Chemistry, I asked her to remind me of which year we had decided Zoë would take Algebra II. She tried to answer my question but lost her train of thought and got flustered. She tried to suggest that we come back to that question later. She said, “You see, you got me confused because we’re talking about science now, not math.” “That’s true,” I said, “But the two go hand in hand. With all the formulas used in Chemistry, Zoë will have an easier time if she gets through Algebra II first.” We finally did determine that the chronology of math and science would work but I got the distinct impression that things went much smoother for her when she dealt with parents that didn’t bother her with questions.
All in all, it was a rather surreal experience. I can’t believe that some bozo in Columbia thinks this entire exercise is actually productive. I mean, think about it. Zoë now knows that during her sophomore year, she’ll be learning the fundamentals of Ultimate Frisbee. How exactly does that knowledge benefit her now? And why was it necessary for her to make that choice halfway through eighth grade? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller? Bueller?
And it isn’t all about spending but also about accountability and how funds are administered that I’m concerned about. In my mind, No Child Left Behind (NCLB) is one of the most detrimental and damaging programs ever to be inflicted on the education system in America. The concept that all children are created equal and can therefore be tested equally is ludicrous. And since funding is tied to student performance on the tests, there is a very big incentive for teachers to teach to the test rather than helping students develop skills that can be applied to a multitude to problems. While there is a lot of emphasis put on remedial education (to help improve a school’s performance,) there are no provisions for gifted or talented students. Also, the idea that knowledge of subject matter is a good measure of a person’s ability to teach is equally ridiculous - it is but a small fraction of a person’s ability to teach. I’ve know a lot of teachers in my life and many of them were brilliant minds in their respective fields but were completely inept in a classroom. I’ve also had the honor of knowing a lot of really great teachers – and some of them could have taught just about any subject regardless of their knowledge base.
What started me on this line of thinking was a meeting that Mel and I just had at the middle school with Zoë and a guidance councilor. As an eighth grader in South Carolina, Zoë has to create an Individual Graduation Plan (IGP.) This is but another insane procedure spawned by NCLB. She is only 14 years old, but now has to declare not only what career she would like to pursue, but also pick not one, but all four years worth of high school courses. She’s never been to the high school (except to perform in the auditorium.) She has no idea what the teachers are like. Heck, the councilor we met with couldn’t even tell us which courses out of the catalogue we had would be offered to her (in fact, the woman didn’t even have a course catalogue with descriptions – we only had one because Mel had printed it off the internet.) And yet, we’re supposed to intelligently (and quickly,) design a four year course of study for her. To add to the frustration, not one of the career clusters (which you have to pick from,) comes anywhere close to preparing her for archeology - which is the career she is interested in today. Did I mention she’s only 14? This choice could change by dinner time yet alone over the next four years. Everyone we’ve heard speak on this procedure, including the councilor today, has repeatedly stated that the student is free to make changes to their IGP over time. But what they don’t tell you is that a school’s outcomes assessment is positively affected by the number of students who successfully complete their chosen cluster. This means that school funding is adversely affected by those students who change clusters during their high school tenure. So while they tell you that you can make changes, there is every incentive for them to keep you in the cluster you chose. There’s NCLB rearing its ugly head again.
On top of all this, the poor woman who was trying to help us was more than just a little flustered by the whole situation. She complained about the lack of information she was given as evidenced by the fact that we were in possession of a much more detailed course list than she had. She complained about the software that she had to use that kept freezing up. She was more than a little taken aback by the amount of information Mel came into the meeting with – I got the feeling that she didn’t deal with many parents who came in already knowing how the system works (or doesn’t work, depending on your perspective.) At one point, while we were discussing the need for Zoë to take Chemistry, I asked her to remind me of which year we had decided Zoë would take Algebra II. She tried to answer my question but lost her train of thought and got flustered. She tried to suggest that we come back to that question later. She said, “You see, you got me confused because we’re talking about science now, not math.” “That’s true,” I said, “But the two go hand in hand. With all the formulas used in Chemistry, Zoë will have an easier time if she gets through Algebra II first.” We finally did determine that the chronology of math and science would work but I got the distinct impression that things went much smoother for her when she dealt with parents that didn’t bother her with questions.
All in all, it was a rather surreal experience. I can’t believe that some bozo in Columbia thinks this entire exercise is actually productive. I mean, think about it. Zoë now knows that during her sophomore year, she’ll be learning the fundamentals of Ultimate Frisbee. How exactly does that knowledge benefit her now? And why was it necessary for her to make that choice halfway through eighth grade? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller? Bueller?
Monday, February 04, 2008
Health Update
For those of you who are new to the Southern Transplant experience, heath updates are a regular occurrence here. I'm a 43 year old two time cancer survivor. As a teen, I was diagnosed with Hodgkins Disease which was treated with mantle radiation. In my early 20s, a Klatskin Tumor of the Primary Biliary Duct resulted in a Liver Transplant. Now, 20 years later, I've been diagnosed with calcification of the pericardium resulting in Constrictive Paricarditus and I'm being treated for Type I idiopathic Membranoproliferative Glomerulonephritis (don't worry, I have a hard time pronouncing it as well - just say MPGN.) All in all, it's been a long strange trip!
Last Monday, I had an appointment with Dr. Budisavljevic (again, don’t worry about the pronunciation – we all call him Dr. Milos.) He’s my renal (kidney) doctor – a very interesting guy from Sarajevo. I see him about once every three months or so. This time around, things seem to be doing well. My labs were good. I’ve got about 50% functionality in my kidneys which, according to Dr. Milos, is great. He said he’d rather see me have 50% functionality consistently for the next 40 years than to be at 100% with an unknown prognosis. Fourty years? Who’s he kidding? The likelihood of me seeing 83 is very slim. If I can get through all this health crap and see 70 I’ll be happy. Besides, he said he’d be long retired by then anyway. Some other recent developments with me include a small blip with my liver medications. I’ve recently started taking a medication for my gout (oh, did I fail to mention that as one of the side effects of renal problems?) The stuff is great! And it helps a lot with the constant pain I was having in my feet and hands. Anyway, the new medication wreaks havoc with the immunosuppressant meds that I’ve been taking since the transplant – it makes them hang in my system far longer than without the medication. We’ve dropped my levels, but now my liver functions are off. Anyway, it takes a little finagling until we get it all straightened out. My heart is still plugging along – though it constantly reminds that it’s still there and still working overtime. I only really have an issue when I have to exert myself quickly – as I told my doctor, “I can run a marathon, but I can’t sprint.” I can keep up heavy activity for extended time as long as I can pace myself. Both the renal and cardiac docs have mentioned the possibility of transplantation in the future – hopefully I can avoid that. Not sure if I’ve got it in me to go through that ordeal again.
Mel is again doing her Weight Watchers routine and doing very well with it. The doctors told her she might be looking at a liver transplant if she didn’t drop some weight. I think that was a bit of a scare tactic on their part, but it worked and we’re both eating healthier and getting some more exercise – though she’s much better at staying consistent with it than I am. In March she’ll be going in for some surgery – nothing too serious but she’ll be in overnight.
Both Noah and Zoë are healthy though they are not gaining much weight which is a concern for the doctors. They are both taking medications that curb their appetites. Neither of them is very big to begin with and this only compounds the problem. We’re trying all sorts of tricks to get them to eat more. It’s more than just a little ironic that while Mel is trying to eat smaller healthier meals, we’re trying to pump all the calories we can into the kids. Motivating Zoë to eat is still eluding us, but Noah has decided he likes to eat what he calls pizza burgers. He likes the big frozen burgers grilled and served with a slice of cheese and four pieces of pepperoni on each side. It’s hardening of the arteries on a plate but he devours them. How he manages to eat those and continue to hold or loose weight is the source of much frustration for us (especially when Mel’s trying so valiantly to loose weight.)
Anyway, that’s all for now. Hope this finds you all well.
Oh, and we're not even going to talk about the game.
Last Monday, I had an appointment with Dr. Budisavljevic (again, don’t worry about the pronunciation – we all call him Dr. Milos.) He’s my renal (kidney) doctor – a very interesting guy from Sarajevo. I see him about once every three months or so. This time around, things seem to be doing well. My labs were good. I’ve got about 50% functionality in my kidneys which, according to Dr. Milos, is great. He said he’d rather see me have 50% functionality consistently for the next 40 years than to be at 100% with an unknown prognosis. Fourty years? Who’s he kidding? The likelihood of me seeing 83 is very slim. If I can get through all this health crap and see 70 I’ll be happy. Besides, he said he’d be long retired by then anyway. Some other recent developments with me include a small blip with my liver medications. I’ve recently started taking a medication for my gout (oh, did I fail to mention that as one of the side effects of renal problems?) The stuff is great! And it helps a lot with the constant pain I was having in my feet and hands. Anyway, the new medication wreaks havoc with the immunosuppressant meds that I’ve been taking since the transplant – it makes them hang in my system far longer than without the medication. We’ve dropped my levels, but now my liver functions are off. Anyway, it takes a little finagling until we get it all straightened out. My heart is still plugging along – though it constantly reminds that it’s still there and still working overtime. I only really have an issue when I have to exert myself quickly – as I told my doctor, “I can run a marathon, but I can’t sprint.” I can keep up heavy activity for extended time as long as I can pace myself. Both the renal and cardiac docs have mentioned the possibility of transplantation in the future – hopefully I can avoid that. Not sure if I’ve got it in me to go through that ordeal again.
Mel is again doing her Weight Watchers routine and doing very well with it. The doctors told her she might be looking at a liver transplant if she didn’t drop some weight. I think that was a bit of a scare tactic on their part, but it worked and we’re both eating healthier and getting some more exercise – though she’s much better at staying consistent with it than I am. In March she’ll be going in for some surgery – nothing too serious but she’ll be in overnight.
Both Noah and Zoë are healthy though they are not gaining much weight which is a concern for the doctors. They are both taking medications that curb their appetites. Neither of them is very big to begin with and this only compounds the problem. We’re trying all sorts of tricks to get them to eat more. It’s more than just a little ironic that while Mel is trying to eat smaller healthier meals, we’re trying to pump all the calories we can into the kids. Motivating Zoë to eat is still eluding us, but Noah has decided he likes to eat what he calls pizza burgers. He likes the big frozen burgers grilled and served with a slice of cheese and four pieces of pepperoni on each side. It’s hardening of the arteries on a plate but he devours them. How he manages to eat those and continue to hold or loose weight is the source of much frustration for us (especially when Mel’s trying so valiantly to loose weight.)
Anyway, that’s all for now. Hope this finds you all well.
Oh, and we're not even going to talk about the game.
Sunday, February 03, 2008
The Blond Test
This morning at breakfast, Zoë announced that she was going to administer the Blond Test to each of us. This is apparently one of those middle school quizzes that kids ask each other. When I was in middle school, we used to predict each other's future via a similar test. In our game, you would draw a large square on a piece of paper. Each side of the square would be divided up into four parts. We would then ask the person whose future we were predicting to give us four places. These would be written down one side of the square. A second side would get four types of cars. The third side would get the names of four girls (or boys, depending on your preference.) And the fourth would get the letters M, A, S, and H. These would stand for mansion, apartment, shack, and house. The predictor would then start to draw a slow spiral in the middle of the square and ask the predictee to say “stop.” Once this happened, the predictor would count the number of lines in the spiral and use this to count off around the square eliminating options as they were landed on. Eventually, you’d end up with a name, a car, a place, and a domicile – thus predicting the person’s fate. Zoë’s quiz was intended to determine whether or not you were a “Blond” – meaning ditzy (with all due apologies to you natural blonds out there.) Her test, like mine, involved drawing a diagram on paper and having the test taker fill it in. After breakfast, Zoë grabbed some paper and started laying out the test for Mel to take. She got the diagram drawn and then, without really thinking about what she was saying, blurted out, “How do you spell blond?” Um Zoë, I think you just failed your own test. We gave her a hard time for that one.
Footnote – after Mel, Zoë and I argued it for a while, I had to do some research to find out if blond had an e at the end or not. Turns out, both spellings are acceptable, but blonde is usually used as a feminine noun while blond is usually used as an adjective. I guess we all failed the test. Oh well.
Go Patriots.
Footnote – after Mel, Zoë and I argued it for a while, I had to do some research to find out if blond had an e at the end or not. Turns out, both spellings are acceptable, but blonde is usually used as a feminine noun while blond is usually used as an adjective. I guess we all failed the test. Oh well.
Go Patriots.
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