A musician and a gentleman

A musical interlude

As you may know, I bestowed my extra ticket to the San Francisco production of Wagner's Ring on the son of long-time friends. “EF” is a recently-declared music-composition major and I got to play the part of a patron of the arts by introducing him to the sui generis landmark of operatic composition. My friend Gene O'Pedia weighed in with a vigorous endorsement: “Neat that it's all in the space of a week, a concentrated dose of Wagner. Could be transformative. Like if EF starts the next school year as an engineering major.”

Good point. The experience could confirm the young student in his career goals or scare him off into some different field entirely. As it happened, the former seems more likely than the latter. An important factor in EF's opera adventure was his opportunity to converse with one of the performers in the orchestra pit.

We arrived at the War Memorial Opera House early enough on the evening of the performance of Die Walküre to catch most of the talk that was scheduled one hour before curtain time. It turned out to be an unfortunately dull affair—a flat and uninflected reading of an analysis “by some great expert for the edification of other great experts”—and I was glad we had missed part of it. However, the talk was presented on the opera house's main floor, so EF and I got a different perspective than the one we normally had from our regular seats in the balcony level. After the talk ground to its eventual end, I led my guest over to the orchestra pit so that he could check out the disposition of musical forces and ogle the conductor's stand.

It was still half an hour before curtain, so there were very few musicians in the pit, but EF was in luck. Although he is studying several instruments, his principal instrument is the cello, and there was a cellist at his post in the orchestra pit. EF promptly leaned over the railing and asked the musician about the cello part for Die Walküre. I was concerned that EF was committing a faux pas by bothering one of the performers, but the cellist seemed not in the least perturbed.

He came up to the rail and informed EF that the cellos had 79 pages of music to get through for that night's performance. He added that Walküre worked the cellos especially hard, having the same number of pages for them to perform as the massive Götterdämmerung, despite being 45 minutes shorter in overall duration. Upon finding out that EF was studying music composition, the cellist gently suggested that his future compositions might give the cellos a break by not emulating Wagner too much.

Although we did not know it at the time, EF's friendly advisor was David Kadarauch, the opera's principal cellist. He took several minutes to chat with EF and was generous in sharing his informed perspective on composition and performance. When he found out that we were sitting in the lower balcony, Kadarauch congratulated us: “I always tell my friends to sit there. It's the best location in the house for appreciating the music.” My young companion soaked it up like a sponge and it started the evening on a high note for him.

I am confident that Mr. Kadarauch does not follow this blog, so he may never see this. However, I feel that I witnessed something significant and praiseworthy. He probably did not think it was a particularly big deal to take a few minutes to encourage a young music student who hung on his every word. He was simply exchanging his performer's hat for a moment for that of a teacher. But it was a big deal. EF may be at the beginning of a long musical career. The kindnesses of those who have gone before him will shape and inform that career. Thank you, David Kadarauch, for giving that career an encouraging and appreciated nudge at its very start.

And I'm pretty sure it won't be in engineering.

Religion-crippled reason

I guess God hates logic

Noah Hutchings is the superannuated leader of the Southwest Radio Church. His radio broadcasts are replete with numerological arguments (God the Master Mathematician) for various wacky Christian dogmas and earnest warnings about the imminent apocalypse. Hutchings isn't quite crazy enough to set dates in the manner of Harold Camping, but he demonstrates his lack of basic reasoning skills in virtually every radio program.

The July 6 installment of Bible in the News took President Obama to task for having issued a proclamation that designated June as “Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender Pride Month.” Hutchings quoted a line that was actually from Obama's 2009 declaration: “I am proud to be the first President to appoint openly LGBT candidates to Senate-confirmed positions.... These individuals embody the best qualities we seek in public servants.”

Hutchings draws the obvious conclusion from the president's statement: “In other words, President Obama says that homosexuals are better than heterosexuals.”

Yeah, I can see that. In a world where “equal rights” immediately equate to “special rights” when certain minorities are concerned, it makes complete sense that praising the qualifications of gay individuals is tantamount to proclaiming them better than straight people. If your brain is sufficiently god-rotted, you can follow this line of reasoning, too.

Hutchings went on to say, “ He has indeed appointed, according to reports, over 150 to high government positions—many more than heterosexuals.” Oh, yes. The president has fewer than 300 government positions to fill by appointment, so 150 LGBT appointments constitute a clear majority of Obama's administration.

I think the statements by Mr. Hutchings are as stupid as any I've ever heard. Perhaps he will now declare that I am therefore claiming he is more stupid than anyone else. ... Damn. This time he might be right!

The constitutional option

In time of rebellion?

President Obama continues to act as though he thinks it's possible to hold meaningful discussions with the Republicans in Congress. He probably knows better by now, but hesitates to abandon his public expressions of confidence in the good faith of the GOP opposition. He should have stopped the pretense months ago, especially since the Republican majority in the U.S. House of Representatives care nothing about negotiation. They want only to have everything their way, as if the 2010 election nullified the results of 2008 (please ignore the inconvenient fact that the Democrats retained a majority in the U.S. Senate), and they're perfectly willing to cripple the economy in hopes of reaping a further political windfall in 2012.

Of course, if Obama were to call out the Republicans and denounce them for their obstructionism, they would undoubtedly scream and tear their hair, decrying the president's partisanship. We can always count on them to over-react. It's the one ploy of which they never tire. They might even work up such a fervor that they would impeach the president. Certainly they have ample grounds,having already pointed out that the president is an unconstitutional tyrant, Marxist, socialist, communist, and foreign usurper. At least one of those must be a high crime or misdemeanor, right?

It is therefore rather delicious to consider that the U.S. Constitution contains a possible remedy for the current Republican posturing over the nation's debt limit. GOP senators like Cornyn of Texas are pre-emptively denouncing the notion that the 14th Amendment trumps the statutory debt limit and kicks the props out from under the Republican attempt to hold the nation's economy hostage.

I'm not a constitutional scholar (and neither is Cornyn, for that matter), but we can all read the fourth section of the 14th Amendment to see if we can understand it:

4: The validity of the public debt of the United States, authorized by law, including debts incurred for payment of pensions and bounties for services in suppressing insurrection or rebellion, shall not be questioned. But neither the United States nor any State shall assume or pay any debt or obligation incurred in aid of insurrection or rebellion against the United States, or any claim for the loss or emancipation of any slave; but all such debts, obligations and claims shall be held illegal and void.

Its language is rather strong. Without significant qualification, it says that “the validity of the public debt of the United States ... shall not be questioned.” As long as the debts are incurred by law, the U.S. will not and cannot default. Is there any other way to read that?

I suppose someone could point to paragraph 5 (“The Congress shall have the power to enforce, by appropriate legislation, the provisions of this article”) and try to argue that the national debt is under legislative authority, but it merely empowers Congress to devise the ways and means to meet the country's obligations. It doesn't say anything about debt ceilings or caps or any such thing. If the House of Representatives want to lower the national debt, it need merely spend less. All appropriations must originate in the House anyway.

The neglected clause

I am certain that the Republican House would squeal like a stuck pig if Obama were to invoke the provisions of the 14th Amendment to empower the Secretary of the Treasury to service the national debt without regard to the statutory debt limit. (The Constitution, after all, is superior to anything that is merely statutory.) The GOP might even add it to their list of impeachable offenses, which in their fevered imaginations must be remarkably long by now.

Let me give them something else to fuss over:

No one has been talking about an exceedingly interesting clause in the 14th Amendment. The language about legitimate debts incurred by the U.S. includes the language “bounties for services in suppressing insurrection or rebellion.” This is evidently simple acknowledgment that the 14th Amendment was enacted in the wake of the Civil War, but it does not specifically cite the war between the states. It speaks generically about insurrection and rebellion. Therefore, if President Obama were to deem it necessary, the 14th Amendment gives him an unlimited line of credit to pay for putting down rebellion.

Oh, oh. Watch out, teabaggers! As Glenn Beck has often informed us, the FEMA concentration camps must be ready for occupancy now. It's just a matter of finding traitors to incarcerate in them. I can't imagine that it would be difficult. We have seen plenty of Republicans and teabaggers calling for the overthrow of the federal government.

If we go back to the Constitution, we find the following language:

Treason against the United States, shall consist only in levying War against them, or in adhering to their Enemies, giving them Aid and Comfort. No Person shall be convicted of Treason unless on the Testimony of two Witnesses to the same overt Act, or on Confession in open Court.

Is advocating secession an overt act of treason? Let's ask Rick Perry what Abraham Lincoln would say! Gov. Perry has espoused the notion that Texas could leave the Union (although he might prefer that we forget his remarks, now that he is maneuvering into the presidential race).

Let's make a list of treacherous people for the president to round up. He needs to be ready to apply the Constitution more effectively!

Do you really want this job?

Advice you shouldn't need

I have one of the best jobs in the universe. I'm a college faculty member with seniority and tenure, so my job comes with a high degree of security and a sense of doing something worthwhile. I am fortunate indeed, so I understand that other people might be eager to apply to be my colleague. What I do not understand is why so many of these people do such a bad job of applying. Perhaps it would be better not to describe their mistakes. Folks who do not figure it out on their own are probably not good choices for future colleagues.

On the other hand, teachers can't help teaching and we should not discourage people from learning. Here, therefore, is a brief list of suggestions. You may be struck by how obvious they are. Or should be.

Fill out the application

No, really. Fill it out. Don't leave parts of it blank unless they're really supposed to be blank (like the section where you list the misdemeanors on your rap sheet). Sometimes this mistake is made by adjunct faculty members who are applying for a tenure-track position at the school where they already teach. “Oh, they already know me. I'll just hit the highlights.” Sorry. Get a clue. There will be people on the hiring panel who don't know you—like those from outside the department. It's also likely that the screening rubric will explicitly require the application screeners to evaluate the applications strictly on actual content. (“Do not base your rating of an application on personal knowledge.”) Blank spaces earn no points from the screening committee in deciding who gets an interview.

Don't hide information

This is something of an ancillary to the previous point. Hiring committees typically screen dozens of applications. If you put information where it's not expected, it may not be seen. One recent unsuccessful candidate neglected to indicate that he was bilingual on his application—something that would have fit well in the item related to personal experience with academic and cultural diversity. He buried his knowledge of Spanish in a block of miscellaneous skills in a résumé attached to his application. I found it, but I know others did not. That was probably worth a point that most other screeners didn't give him.

Know your references

I have seen half a dozen candidates in recent years shot down by their letters of recommendation. Don't ask for a letter of recommendation from someone who will damn you with faint praise or—even worse—explain why you aren't ready for a teaching career. Don't ask for recommendations from people who don't have a positive opinion of you. Also, don't submit letters of recommendation from your students. You have too much authority over your students to make their comments entirely credible. If you do have fan letters from students, pass them along to the dean or department chair from whom you will ask for a letter of recommendation.

Rehearse your presentation

So far as I know, every college asks its applicants to give some kind of teaching demonstration. At a university you might conduct a seminar. At a community college you can expect to give a mini-lecture. At my school, interviews typically include a 10- to 15-minute teaching demo. We send out a topic (or short list of topics) for the candidates to prepare. Some ill-advised applicants attempt to squeeze a one-hour lecture into their allotted time, tearing through the material four or five times as fast as they would in class. That's missing the point entirely. We want a representative sample of each candidate's style and skill. The smart candidate will rehearse the presentation a few times to ensure that it flows well and fits the time permitted. I have seen candidates attempt to address their assigned topic off the cuff, with no evident preparation. The results are predictably poor and haphazard. At least two candidates seemed not to remember the exact assignment and needed to be prompted; neither of those candidates advanced to the next round.

It really is all about you

Yes, I know that most of us in the teaching profession are self-sacrificing martyrs who put the interests of others before their own. We're all candidates for sainthood. In an interview for a faculty position, however, you're supposed to persuade us how wonderful you are. During your interview, the focus is indeed on you and on no one else. And here I will make my point: Don't talk about other people. Stay focused on giving the committee a complete picture of your splendid qualifications for the job. Do not try to build yourself up by tearing others down. I have seen more than one instance where a candidate felt it necessary to poor-mouth rival applicants. In one particular case, a part-time faculty member thought that his principal rival for the full-time position was another adjunct instructor. He proceeded to say bad things about his part-time colleagues, building himself up by denigrating their talents. (If only he had known that he was the only part-timer among the finalists.) He didn't get the job.

Don't burn bridges

You might not get hired the first time you apply. I didn't. Neither did most of my colleagues. The rule is try, try again. It is therefore a bad idea to send nastygrams to members of the hiring committee and the college administration when you finish out of the money. It is my understanding that the dean of instruction has a long enough memory to remember that you sent her a letter (“I was clearly the best candidate among the applicants and the person you chose is not worthy to buff my briefcase”) and is likely to bring it up if she ever sees your name on a list of candidates again. Not kidding. This really occurred.

Good luck, future faculty members.

Punctuation for thee and me

Bringing reason to a full stop

The back page of a recent Answers Update (Vol. 18, No. 6) carries a bright little apologetic nugget by Ken Ham himself, the strikingly australopithecine leader of Answers in Genesis. Ham is talking about the earth's effing magnetic field. How does it work?

[G]eophysical and archaeological evidence indicates that 1,000 years ago, the magnetic field of the earth was 40% stronger than today. This field is actually decaying at a rate of 5% per century.

The decay rate may not sound like much, but it's a very important factor in determining the age of the earth. Using the current rate of decay, it's been calculated that just a million years ago, the magnetic field would have been so strong that it would have melted the planet! ...

Creationist physicists declare that the magnetic field is a very strong indicator that our planet cannot be any older than 10,000 years. This, of course, confirms the roughly 6,000-year timeline in the book of Genesis.

Please don't be distracted by Ham's use of amusing little oxymorons like “creationist physicists.” We can easily detect what he is up to. There's a useful word to describe the theoretical foundation for Ham's argument:

Uniformitarianism.

Obvious. Right? Ham is assuming that conditions affecting the earth's magnetic field have remained exactly the same throughout history. What else is that besides uniformitarianism? Of course, Ham might beg to differ. Let's see how he described uniformitarianism in the 1987 edition of his book The Lie: Evolution:

Geologists have the idea that the processes we see operating in the present world have been going on for millions of years at essentially the same rate, and will probably go on for millions of years into the future as well. The technical word used in geology for this belief is “uniformitarianism.” For example, the desert museum in Tucson, Arisona, not only has a display for people to see what supposedly has happened over the past millions of years, but it also has a display of what many scientists believe will happen to Arizona over the millions of years yet to come!

Evolutionists, atheistic and theistic, use the phrase “the present is the key to the past.” In other words, they say that the way to understand the past is to observe what happens in the present.”

Bingo! Ham's magnetic-field argument for a young earth is a page ripped right out of the uniformitarianism playbook. He stands self-accused.

One imagines that Ham might wish to quibble. He could claim that he was using a reductio ad absurdum argument—or proof by contradiction—having demonstrated that the assumption of uniformitarianism leads to an impossibly high level of magnetic flux in the prehistoric past.

Sorry. That won't work. He is not just arguing that an old earth is impossible. Ham explicitly declares that some simple computations provide evidence consistent with a young earth. He is making a “pro” argument for his position every bit as much as he is making a “con” argument against his opponents (which constitute 99% of the scientific community).

Ham may not like uniformitarianism, but he is certainly willing to use it when it suits him. Perhaps he needs to create a new label for it. May I suggest “punctuated uniformitarianism”? He can use it to argue that physical laws and natural processes are uniform between occasional catastrophes—like his magnetic-field argument.

An incident at the opera

Coming soon to a stage near you

In 1999, I picked up a pair of tickets to the San Francisco Opera's production of Wagner's Der Ring des Nibelungen. None of my friends are opera aficionados to the degree that I am, but by the end of the 20th century it had become standard practice at the San Francisco Opera to project supertitles during performances. It was now possible to follow the sense of an opera production without actually knowing the words or the language of the libretto. Under those circumstances, one of my college buddies agreed to accompany me to the Ring. An assiduous reader of fantasy and science fiction, he wanted to see how Wagner compared to Tolkien (recall that this was well before the movies). He managed to remain attentive and engaged throughout the entire operatic marathon.

This year the Ring has returned to San Francisco and I grabbed a pair of tickets. However, my old friend assured me that one exposure to the 16-hour extravaganza was quite enough for him, thank you very much. No problem! I have other friends, of course. And all of them were quite capable of informing me that they had other plans.

Oops.

Then came a big surprise. One long acquaintance tipped me off that the son of mutual friends had just declared himself to be a music composition major in college. This was news. I called up his parents, whom I had known since before he was born, and discovered two things: (1) their son was spending the summer back in town with his parents and (2) he would be thrilled to attend the Ring. Thus I became a patron of the arts, sponsoring a young music student's first exposure to Wagner's epic composition.

While the new San Francisco production of the Ring has plenty of weird quirks, it was also a thrilling success. The key factor was the brilliant Swedish soprano Nina Stemme, a wholly successful Brünnhilde. The audience screamed its approval during her solo bow at the end of the fourth and final opera (you know, after the fat lady has sung and the opera is over—except that Stemme is not your traditionally over-upholstered warrior maiden).

What is it about Sweden, anyway? The most famous Brünnhilde of the latter half of the 20th century was also from Sweden. Birgit Nilsson, whom I was privileged to hear in the role in 1981, was unrivaled during her long reign as the leading Wagnerian soprano. During an intermission visit to the opera house gift shop one evening, I made the happy discovery that Nilsson's chatty autobiography has been published in an English translation. When I picked it up, I was startled to see that it had been published by the University Press of New England. I nudged my companion.

“Hey, look at this! I'm sharing a publisher with Birgit Nilsson! These are the people who are bringing out my novel later this year.”

My young friend was polite enough to feign interest and to be pleased on my behalf.

“That's pretty good,” he said.

I shrugged self-deprecatingly—which I don't do often, so it was a chance to try something a little different.

“Well, yeah, but it's not as though the opera gift shop is going to have any interest in carrying my book in its inventory after it's published,” I said.

My companion grinned and waited one full beat before delivering his pitch-perfect response.

“On the contrary. They will definitely want to keep it in stock after I base my first opera on it.”

War stories for boys

No gurlz aloud

I joined the Library of Science back in the sixties, when I was in high school. The book club seduced me by offering me a membership premium in the form of the MIT Press edition of Mathematics: Its Content, Methods, and Meaning, translated from the original Russian of authors Aleksandrov, Kolmogorov, and Lavrent'ev. You can imagine how jealous the other high school seniors were. (That is, not at all.)

Today the Library of Science is represented by its successor, the Scientific American Book Club. The monthly arrival of new offerings in my mail box is not quite the event that it was in my college years—I'm perhaps a bit jaded now—but I still enjoy flipping through the catalog booklet and shuffling the sheaf of special offers. These latter are often from affiliated book clubs and do not usually focus on the science, technology, and math that are the bread and butter of the Scientific American Book Club. One such affiliate is the Military Book Club. Its flier was in the most recent SciAm mailing. Behold:

What are we to make of this hot-pants aviatrix? She certainly appears respectful and ready to take orders. And who at the Military Book Club decided that it was 1930 again (from the waist up, at least)? And that girls aren't interested in military history? Some boy, no doubt.

I mean, it couldn't be a grown-up.

Why there are so many nuns

And all my students become math teachers!

I miss Pauline. While I still tend to read Dear Abby when I run across it in the pages of a newspaper, the advice seems to be missing the snap and ginger that the original “Abigail Van Buren” brought to the agony-aunt business. Daughter Jeanne may be an example of regression to the mean. She's like Siegfried Wagner to Pauline's Richard.

An item in one of last week's columns reminded me why I feel that way:

DEAR ABBY: My daughter recently told us she is attracted to women. I feel she has been unduly influenced by her mentor/professor at her college, as she quoted this woman several times when she “came out.”

My daughter has always been quiet and shy. She finds it difficult to make eye contact with anyone. How am I to accept this, especially since I feel her mentor took advantage of the situation? I am finding it difficult to function at all. I love my daughter very much. This just hurts. —MOM AT A LOSS IN OREGON

DEAR MOM AT A LOSS: I understand this has been a shock for you, and for that you have my sympathy. It is possible that your daughter has always been quiet and shy because she was wrestling with who she is, so the fact that she told you her feelings is a good thing.

Because you are hurting, it would be helpful for you to talk to other parents of lesbians and gays. They can help you through this period of adjustment. You can find support by contacting PFLAG (Parents, Families and Friends of Lesbians and Gays) by calling (202) 467-8180 or logging onto www.pflag.org. If you do, you'll be better able to support your child.

That's right, Jeanne. Ignore the elephant in the room. The advice to contact PFLAG is good, but you're completely silent about Oregon Mom's idiocy. I'm not suggesting that you should have called her an idiot, but remaining silent gives the appearance of taking her statement at face value.

Which statement? This one, obviously: “I feel she has been unduly influenced by her mentor/professor at her college.” Oregon Mom is telling us that she thinks her daughter's professor turned her gay. And you're just going to leave that lying there on the page for readers to see and fret over? Sure, PFLAG will explain to her that she is full of crap, but the opportunity to address it in the column was missed.

Here's my suggestion for a replacement for the first paragraph of Jeanne's answer. It may be a bit more blunt than what Pauline might have said, but I like to think it's in her spirit:

If your daughter's mentor helped her to recognize her lesbianism, you owe her a debt of gratitude. Now your daughter has a chance to live a less confused life. If you think your daughter was seduced into “the gay lifestyle,” you need to get acquainted with reality.

Then the recommendation to contact PFLAG is a smooth segue. Read the letters a little more closely, Jeanne. You're missing important stuff.

Television's snipe hunt challenge

High rewards for low standards

The so-called “reality” genre of television has explored such topics as survival skills, spouse-swapping, weight-loss, courtship ritual, and cohabitation with losers. In an exciting breakthrough for this “art form,” free-lance psychic investigators are soon to be rewarded for having the sloppiest experimental protocols and the lowest standards of verification. How else are we to interpret this wry report by Kevin McDonough in his Tune In Tonight column?

A new series “Paranormal Challenge” 9 p.m., Travel) offers the untrained and apparently “unaccredited” a chance at an apprenticeship of sorts.

Hosted by Zak Bagans of “Ghost Adventures” fame, “Challenge” invites amateur spook sleuths to “haunted” sites, arms them with gadgetry and sets them loose amid the ectoplasm.

The team that returns with the most “evidence” is declared the winner. The winner's sole compensation will be a newfound “respect” in the community of paranormal believers. And we all know that's worth twice its weight in pixie dust!

I think McDonough suspects that this could be an entertainment goldmine of unintentional humor. I suspect he's right.

Fixing California education

USC puts in the fix

Saturday morning's edition of the Sacramento Bee treated us to an opinion piece by Dr. William G. Tierney, director of the Center for Higher Education Policy Analysis at the University of Southern California. Naturally it caught my eye, especially when I noticed the title: Simple changes would make college degree easier and cheaper. My eyebrow quirked with skepticism and I steeled myself for disappointment.

I was not disappointed—about being disappointed, I mean. Tierney is not completely out to lunch, but he certainly overreaches and oversimplifies. Here are some pertinent excerpts from his article, along with my comments:

Viewpoints: Simple changes would make college degree easier and cheaper

By William G. Tierney

Special to The Bee
Published Saturday, Jun. 11, 2011

How can California produce the number of college graduates its future economy will need when its public higher education system is staggering because of the ongoing budget squeeze? Unfortunately, the state's public universities and colleges won't receive any of the unexpected surge in new tax revenue and will continue to scale back their enrollments. If the tax extensions sought by Gov. Jerry Brown are not approved, enrollments will likely shrink further.

California's private nonprofit and for-profit colleges and universities, by contrast, are in relatively good financial shape. Enrollments in most institutions are holding steady or are up. Endowments and philanthropic giving are on the upswing. Tuition is still higher than in the public schools but is rising at a slower pace.

We should be careful not to overstate the situation relative to public versus private college education in California. The Great Recession has caused a dramatic spike in tuition costs at the California State University and the University of California. The steep rates of increase cannot be sustained without the destruction of these institutions (so I predict it won't happen). It would be misleading to make too much of the “slower pace” of private-school tuition in the state.

If these two higher-education systems would put aside their long-running competition for students, faculty and resources, and cooperate to boost graduation rates, they could go a long way toward turning out the 1 million more credentialed individuals—according to one study—the economy will need in 2025. Heresy? Hardly.

Here I pause to climb onto one of my favorite hobbyhorses: I hate the expression “according to one study” and similar unhelpful non-references. What study? I realize that this is an opinion piece published in a newspaper and not a peer-reviewed research article in an education journal, but the Bee falls short in its mission to inform the public when it expects us to take unsourced statements at face value. I don't know whether to blame Tierney as well. Did he try to include a citation, only to have the Bee editors complain about the fusty academic prose?

In any case, I have done the leg-work for you, should you want to check whether the claims are well supported. Tierney is referring to the work of Hans Johnson, who published two papers in 2009 with the Public Policy Institute of California:

Johnson, H. (2009). Educating California: Choices for the future. San Francisco, CA: Public Policy Institute of California.
Johnson, H., & Sengupta, R. (2009). Closing the Gap: Meeting California's need for college graduates. San Francisco, CA: Public Policy Institute of California.

Johnson's more recent paper may also be of interest:

Johnson, H. (2011). California workforce: Planning for a better future. San Francisco, CA: Public Policy Institute of California.

While I'm at it, I'll point out that Tierney's article appears to be a public-consumption version of a more extensive report titled Making It Happen: Increasing college access and participation in California Higher Education: The role of private postsecondary providers. Tierney coauthored it with Guilbert Hentschke, a colleague at the USC school of education.

Now let's get back to Tierney's argument:

There are three important ways the public and private sectors can work together to produce more graduates.

• Shifting the remedial burden to the private sector: California's public schools and universities are lousy at remedial education. Sixty percent of entering Cal State students have to complete at least one remedial course when they arrive at college. It's a task that consumes professorial and student time, and is ill-suited to the mission of graduating students.

For certain private nonprofit and for-profit schools, however, remedial education is a forte. They have experience in dealing with learning deficiencies and are adept in tutoring and some forms of special education. Unencumbered by competing missions, they can focus on the remedial task at hand. And monitoring their success rates would be as easy as grading exams.

Did a warning flag pop up when you read that? Here we have a professor at a private university recommending that more of California's education program be shifted to private institutions. Of course, he's not suggesting that the remediation work be allocated to the University of Southern California, which is presumably above all that. Instead, Tierney is arguing that certain profit-based schools excel at making up educational deficiencies and should be encouraged to do what they do best. I have my doubts.

For-profit schools tend to report high success rates, but these statistics can be misleading. Such schools have a vested interest in retaining their paying customers. Students and colleagues of mine who have taught at profit-driven schools are amazed at how difficult it can be to maintain standards or drop non-performing students. (“Hey, I paid for this class. Now give me my passing grade!”)

Are public schools any better? Tierney says we “are lousy at remedial education.” In my long experience as a college teacher who often teaches elementary algebra (a course that used to be standard high school freshman fare), I can report that my success rate hovers between sixty and seventy percent. In general, my colleagues and I find that one-half to two-thirds of our students pass algebra.

It's shocking, I know. I think our success rates would be higher if we had fewer students in each class and more time to give them individual attention. Perhaps that's what private schools could do (for a price). However, I also want to point out that open-admission institutions like community colleges have to take on all comers, ready or not. We strive mightily with the twin tools of assessment and placement to figure out what students already know and what courses they should take to maximize their probability of success. Still, even the best instructors lose a quarter of their students.

It's my opinion that we can't do much about it. That might be a defeatist attitude, but I'm not one to casually acquiesce in failure. The reality is that every semester brings us students who are placed as best we can manage but who lack any real interest in education. These are the students who are marking time till they find something better or more interesting to do. They may be living rent-free under a parent's roof as long as they're enrolled in school, so sitting in class is like the price they pay for shelter. It would be rude to also expect them to work at the subject material.

Other students have life problems or emergencies that predictably or unpredictably sabotage their academic progress. Many of these people will regroup and try again (and succeed) under better circumstances. Still, they go into the “failure” column when we tote up the statistics. In general, you can assume that ten to twenty percent of your students are doomed to fail because of attitudes or circumstances. As instructors—at least if you are serious about doing the greatest good for the greatest number—you have to guard against snap judgments. Try to foster success for every student, even if you know you are fated to fall short in a unknown number of instances.

Good schools in the private and for-profit sector might also be serious about helping students. I expect that most are. However, it's often apples and oranges when we make these comparisons and I can't quite get on board with Tierney's assertion that public schools are inherently worse at remediation than private schools. Community colleges, in particular, do a lot of remediation. Furthermore, to stand things on their heads, consider that we get over half of our algebra students to succeed. In algebra! The math class from hell!

• Making it easier to complete required courses: Currently, a student seeking to transfer credit to another school faces too many institutional and faculty hurdles. An “A” in English 101 at Los Angeles City College isn't automatically credited at UCLA.

The state took a baby step this year toward clearing up the uncertainty with the Student Transfer Reform Act, which guarantees junior status at Cal State schools to community college students who earn an associate degree. There is no reason why such a relationship should only exist between community colleges and Cal State.

To facilitate transfers, all accredited institutions would adopt a common course-numbering system that ensures that students learn similar things regardless of where they took the class. For example, credit for completing English 101 at a community college would automatically transfer to a UC or a private college or university. Not only would general education requirements be part of this system but preparation courses for students' majors as well. Arizona has set up such a credit-transfer system, and initial reports are that it is producing more graduates faster.

I agree unreservedly with Tierney's recommendation concerning the transferability of college courses. It should have happened yesterday.

I know, however, why it didn't. And Tierney plows right into the problem without apparently realizing it: “all accredited institutions would adopt a common course-numbering system that ensures that students learn similar things.” How much experience does Tierney have in higher education? Has he been paying any attention at all? California's colleges and faculty will fight tooth and nail against a uniform statewide curriculum. Hardly anything is so precious to a college as its own curriculum. Losing control of course definitions to some centralized authority is tantamount to becoming merely one small cog in a monolithic educational machine.

No thanks!

Community colleges, especially, tailor curriculum to their communities and colleges in general cherish the right to tweak their own courses and experiment with their own curriculum. Ceding that ability to a central authority is a non-starter. Of course, you can never tell what the California legislature will do—or try to do. Years ago the legislature passed and the governor signed a measure mandating that all California community colleges use a uniform course-numbering system. The requirement is still on the books:

66725. (a) It is the intent of the Legislature to facilitate articulation and seamless integration of California's postsecondary institutions by facilitating the adoption and integration of a common course numbering system among the public and private postsecondary institutions. The purpose of building and implementing a common course numbering system is to provide for the effective and efficient progression of students within and among the higher education segments and to minimize duplication of coursework.

It never happened, probably because the legislature failed to allocate funds to pay for it and to establish the mechanism by which it would occur. We do, however, at least have the California Articulation Numbering system, which provides an intermediary for the comparison of courses at different institutions in the community college system. Something along these lines might be a way to advance the positive aspects of Tierney's recommendation without falling into the trap of statewide course uniformity.

• Encouraging private colleges to admit more students, especially through online learning: To get private colleges to admit more students, the state might pick up a portion of the tuition difference between private and public schools. That, no doubt, would bring howls of protest—taxpayers giving money to well-heeled privates. But consider UC's newest campus in Merced, currently with 4,000 students. The state could surely find cheaper seats for those 4,000 students in California's 79 private institutions than pay $500 million and counting to complete the campus.

While shilling again for his own segment of California's postsecondary education system, Tierney takes an ill-considered slap at the University of California. The Central Valley is a major growth center for the state. The establishment of the tenth UC campus in that region was long overdue. Tierney is recommending a penny-wise and pound-foolish approach of shutting down a growing institution that will be sorely needed by the burgeoning San Joaquin population. Does he want higher education in that region ceded to private institutions? Perhaps so.

But more private admissions can't begin to close the graduate gap. A significant state-led effort to increase online education would have far more impact—and the private nonprofit and for-profit sectors are best qualified to lead it because they are doing it now and want to grow. Given their checkered history, participation by the for-profits would have to be tightly regulated.

I support the expansion of on-line education, although I have reservations about quality control and identity verification (who is taking those on-line exams?). It's interesting that Tierney felt obligated to cite in passing the “checkered history” of profit-driven schools in the on-line sector. Here's an area where we are best advised to hurry slowly.

California's persistent budget squeeze and anti-tax mood erect a high hurdle to increased graduation rates. Only a coordinated effort of its five higher-education systems—three public and the nonprofit and for-profit privates—can produce the number of graduates the economy will need. There's still plenty of room for spirited competition, but California's economy needs all five on the same team to remain competitive globally.

I can't argue with Tierney's team metaphor for addressing the problems in Caifornia's postsecondary education. I'm not sure, though, that I want him to be the captain.

Geese and ganders, pots and kettles

Cock-a-doodle-doo

Given my continuing disappointment with the political timidity of the White House (and the Senate leadership), I've always appreciated Anthony Weiner's willingness to speak up for what Howard Dean called “the Democratic wing of the Democratic Party.” That makes it all the more disappointing to learn that Weiner cannot resist eponymous hijinks. Geez, Tony, keep it in your pants. (And when it's not in your pants, put the friggin' camera away!)

I am not, however, going to cluck my tongue, shake my head, wag my finger, and sanctimoniously call for his resignation. Unless his behavior turns out to involve criminal or unethical actions—and not just chuckle-headed macho display behavior—I leave it to his constituents to decide whether he should continue as their representative.

In addition to being an unwelcome distraction from more significant matters, Weiner's peccadillos have also become an occasion for displays of robust hypocrisy. Right-wing pundits are eager to assure us that Republicans are more inclined than Democrats to acknowledge their transgressions and maintain some shreds of dignity by slipping away into the quiet obscurity of resignation and exile.

Ha! (Remember Larry Craig? David Vitter?)

Tea-party types are, however, ready to listen to them. Some of them can even write, as evidenced by this letter in last Saturday's San Francisco Chronicle:

A cheat is a cheat

Rep. Anthony Weiner is a poster boy for a continuing character deficit in national leadership. He's only sorry he got caught.

He repeatedly denied, on national TV, that he had done anything wrong.

When confronted with irrefutable evidence, he said he would keep his job, thank you, because he's doing such great work for his constituents.

Weiner and his ilk (Clinton, Spitzer, Kennedy, Edwards) are self-centered narcissists who think they are special and can get away with blatantly abnormal behavior, which would be cause for immediate termination in any private business or school, because they think they're some kind of genius.

Both private and public behaviors reflect our character. If you lie, steal, cheat, harass and sext on your own time, you'll do it on public time, too.

Debra Janssen, Morgan Hill

Did Debra forget anything in her roster of shame? It seems that—at least in her mind—only Democrats have ever been guilty of bad behavior. I guess it's okay if you're a Republican.

My memory, fortunately, is better than Debra's. Wanting to be helpful, let me round out her list with Newt Gingrich (almost too obvious!), David Vitter, Mark Foley, Mark Sanford, Daniel Crane, and Chris Lee.

I could go on, of course, adding more Republican names. The only thing I will add, however, is the admonition not to take seriously any claim that all goodness and light reside in one political party while all evil and corruption reside in the other.

Of course, at the rate the Republican Party is going crazy-ass nuts with extremist rhetoric and political brinksmanship, it may turn out that the GOP will corner the market on insanity (and the Democrats would have to be insane not to point that out).

Victory over Google!

I slash my hit rate!

This must be how BP felt after capping the blown-out oil well in the Gulf of Mexico. The Google tsunami is over!

For now, anyway.

As I reported in an earlier post, my blog had become the “beneficiary” of a tidal wave of visitors (speaking in relative terms, of course). My hit rate suddenly doubled or even tripled. According to Sitemeter data, as much as 72% of the new visits were to Where's my money?, a snarky observation on the inanities that characterize San  Francisco's KSFO talk radio. It was all Google's fault. People who searched for “money” were being treated to a strip of “Images for money” that included a clip I had used to illustrate my post. That was enough to divert hundreds of people every day to look at an image of a guy carrying an oversized money bag.

Ordinarily, I would be happy to welcome more visitors. In this instance, however, I grew weary of the flood. Sitemeter reports acquired a deadly monotony as the horde of picture-seekers swamped those who had come to Halfway There to read actual words. I could no longer keep track of who came to see what. Last week I took steps.

First I deleted the image from the post in question. Days passed without Google noticing. The deluge continued. Then I made the post unavailable by saving it as a draft. Success! Traffic returned to normal. After a couple of days, I restored the post. The mob was instantly back. The sought-for image was gone, but Google was still lagging. I took the post off-line again and the hit rate dropped accordingly.

A few days ago I felt brave enough to repost the article. It was still without the attractive nuisance of the money-bag illustration, but now it was also missing the stress of Google's regard. The search giant had found another source for Mr. Money-Bag and the stampede was quelled. My victory was complete.

I got rid of over half of my traffic and I'm happy about it. Should I be concerned about this happiness? Oh, oh. Confused now.

From the time vault

As it was in the beginning

There may very well be a hoarding gene in my family tree. I seem to have inherited it from my parents. Dad exhibits this behavior in his workshop, which is cluttered with the detritus of decades, including a large collection of old-fashioned vacuum tubes—perfect for fixing up that old Curtis-Mathes television of yours. Mom keeps boxes of stuff in the basement, including virtually every scrap of school work ever brought home by one of the children. In my case, this includes bundles of material from my initial foray into grad school back in the seventies.

Last week I made a quick trip to the old homestead to participate in a nephew's birthday. At one point I took a break down in the basement and ended up riffling through the family archives. I hit a rich vein from my early teaching days, including bundles of punch cards from student surveys. In addition to filling in bubbles on the front of the card, many students wrote comments on the back. One of the first to catch my eye made me sad:

Z very rarely came prepared for class. His lectures were all straight out of the book, word for word. He also wasn't able to answer various homework problems in class.

Damn. That didn't square with my recollection of my first teaching assignments. Did I really get stuck that much? Did I parrot the book? That's hardly my style today. How things have changed! Or have they? The next card said:

Z is usually a well organized lecturer who presents the subject in a clear and illuminating manner. He also takes time in class to discuss difficult problems, as well as to answer questions on the reading.

Ah! That's more like it! Here's another:

Z will sometimes introduce a proof of his own to supplement the book's proofs. Usually, his make more sense.

Ha! So much for “word for word”! Of course, it's not all 100% positive:

Works very hard to prepare for the lectures & exams. Z tends to joke around too much sometimes.

Well, that sounds accurate. What was that first kid thinking, anyway? It happens every school year, of course. You have students sitting side by side in the same class and their reports of their experience sound as if they were on different planets. (Helpful hint, kids: Try really hard to find an instructor on your wavelength!)

For sheer perversity, the following comment is one of my favorites. Could it be a joke?

Your timing on exams needs some help. I forget the material by the time the exam comes around, therefore, I actually need to study the material.

It might very well be serious. I have had students in the intervening thirty-five years who say very similar things. (Poor babies! Having to study!)

Then there's this:

Z is dressing very well this quarter.

That's what a TA gets for occasionally wearing a tie in the seventies. (It didn't take much to impress them.)

Fortunately, since I couldn't get anything from the multiple-choice side of the punch cards by inspection, I found a folded-up copy of the student questionnaire stuck between two of the card stacks. Most of the questions were perfectly straightforward, dealing with such matters as clarity of presentation, fairness of grading, punctuality, and so on. I racked up good scores on all of these until question #16, when my numbers took a steep nose-dive. Here's what it said:

EXAMS EMPHASIZE, LECT., READINGS, LAB DISC., HOMEWORK, LECT. & TEXT EQUALLY

Whoa! For one thing, lecture is cited twice (and we didn't have a lab discussion session either), but the real point is whether this is even a reasonable standard. Homework as important as exams? You're kidding! I didn't do it then and I still don't do it now. I guess I'm just a rebel.

Still crazy after all these years.

Cartoon character replaced?

What is Beck, after all?

Non Sequitur's Danae has dug out Lucy Van Pelt's old counseling booth and refurbished it into a pundit station. She senses an opportunity in the imminent departure of Glenn Beck from Fox News and is offering herself as a replacement. Nature abhors a vacuum, you know. (Is that why Wiley Miller depicts her father pushing around the old Hoover? Subliminal!) Danae's scheme seems fair: One cartoon character for another. She apparently has a good grasp of suitable topics, too, since Beck and science (or, more broadly, “reality”) were never comfortable with each other.

Cutting remarks

Cosmetic surgery?

Remember the episode of Seinfeld titled “The Bris”? Jerry gets quizzed by Elaine:

Elaine: Hey, Jerry, you ever seen one?
Jerry: Oh, you mean that wasn't ... uh?
Elaine: Yeah.
Jerry: No. Have you?
Elaine: Yeah.
Jerry: What'd you think?
Elaine: [wrinkles her nose] It had no face, no personality. It was like a Martian. But hey, you know, that's me.

I was reminded of this when Debra Saunders of the San Francisco Chronicle decided to have some fun with circumcision in her opinion column this morning:

The ballot measure bills itself as a ban on “forced genital cutting” and “mutilation.” Clearly the authors want to confuse voters by equating male circumcision to female genital mutilation, the barbaric, unsanitary butchering of a young girl's private parts in a procedure that has been known to leave girls severely infected and in pain.

Saunders is echoing the remarks of Rabbi Gil Leeds, who similarly complained that “mutilation” is a misnomer. I tend to disagree, since the permanent amputation of part of the penis should not be treated as a trivial matter, even if the results aren't on the same level as the brutality of so-called “female circumcision.”

Saunders tips her hand even while trying to be even-handed. She cites a pediatrician while ostensibly presenting both sides:

[Dr. Erica Goldman] informs parents of the pluses—reduced chances of urinary tract infection and sexually transmitted diseases—as well as the risks—it's a permanent cosmetic change.

Oy! The “risk” of circumcision is that it's a cosmetic change? It's not a direct quotation, so we can't simply blame Dr. Goldman for this conclusion. It's what Saunders picked out as the key item, ignoring all other factors. (Should we tell circumcised boys that the lack of a foreskin is why they need lube? Is Johnson & Johnson—manufacturers of K-Y Jelly—behind the push for more male circumcisions? This calls for an investigation!)

I snorted when I saw Saunders using the words “cosmetic change,” but I guffawed when I read her peroration. Like the dutiful right-wing columnist that she is, Debra has to complain about “nanny state” legislation and frame the anti-circumcision measure in those terms, slipping in an allusion to the city's ban on toy giveaways with unhealthy fast food. It's a poor fit:

A busybody law? Check. Does it address a problem most folks did not know existed? Check. Pun opportunities? Oh, yeah. First they came for the Chicken McNuggets, then they came for my son's ...

No, no, no, Debra. You're missing the point entirely. The ballot initiative says they have to leave your son's nuggets alone!

Accidentally accurate

Oops!

Cartoonist Lisa Benson takes aim at the Democrats' opposition to the the Republican budget plan proposed by Rep. Paul Ryan. You know: the notion that we will save Medicare (and the nation!) by destroying it. Of course, if you're really gullible—or perhaps really dim—you might believe that converting Medicare to a voucher plan is a good idea. And good luck chasing after private insurance with those shrinking vouchers.

The only thing really missing from Benson's cartoon is an appropriate label: Step One! Tossing the GOP budget proposal over the cliff is merely a good start.

Step One!

Back away from the penis!

San Francisco on the cutting edge

The voters of the City and County of San Francisco have placed a proposed circumcision ban on the November general election ballot. It would make it illegal to remove the foreskins of minors without a showing of medical necessity. It would not, however, have any impact on adult males who wish to have their penises clipped. The rationale is simple: Baby boys cannot give informed consent.

The reaction to the ballot initiative is unsurprisingly shrill. Here's the opening paragraph of an opinion piece by Rabbi Gil Leeds, which was published on May 20, 2011, in the San Francisco Chronicle:

Freedom of religion, enshrined over two centuries ago by the Constitution and the Bill of Rights, is now subject to a vote with the certification in San Francisco of the referendum on circumcision for the November ballot. The vote will empower a secular majority to impose its will, and ban one of the oldest religious traditions known to humanity. When religious belief and practice become subject to vote by the majority of a city council, government agency or referendum, it endangers all of our rights and freedoms.

The proposed legislation contains no religious exemptions, so the traditional Jewish bris ceremony could no longer be practiced in San Francisco if the circumcision ban were enacted. That is why Leeds frames it as an attack on religious freedom. This got me to thinking.

What does religious tradition protect? How far can it go? Leeds correctly points out that male circumcision is a very old religious practice, so it definitely fits under the mantle of tradition, at least for Jews. It's also long been considered normative for American males, quite apart from religious practice. As a culture, we're inured to it and most people take it in stride as expected and unexceptional. While a few circumcised men have complained about having been robbed of their foreskins, most clipped males appear to be content with their condition. It hasn't been a major controversy.

On the other hand, female circumcision is widely condemned as genital mutilation and is against the law in the United States and the target of an international campaign to suppress it. In fact, “circumcision” is rather a misnomer for the procedure(s) applied to young girls in those cultures that practice it. The term comprises a broad range of actions, from reduction or amputation of the clitoris to wholesale excision of the labia. The most extreme form involves infibulation, stitching up the vaginal passage to make it smaller and to ensure the virginity of the victim; the procedure may be reversed when she is properly married off.

Female “circumcision” is an ancient practice that is done in secret in places like the United Kingdom and the United States, nations in which it is legally banned. Members of immigrant families may go to great lengths to ensure that their daughters are genitally cut so that future suitors may be assured of their respectability. The UK and US make no allowance for the ancient tradition, deeming it a violation of basic human rights and labeling it as “female genital mutilation.”

The sponsors of the anti-circumcision measure in San Francisco took a page from the international campaign to protect girls when they titled their proposal as the “San Francisco Male Genital Mutilation” initiative. The city attorney toned that down to the “Male Circumcision” measure, but Leeds the mohel is unmollified:

The proposal's backers are trying to deceive the voters by labeling it a “ban on genital mutilation.” Honesty would have demanded they called it a ban on circumcision. By using such a toxic term as mutilation, they hope to garner support from an unsuspecting public.

My question is this: How is cutting off part of a little boy's penis not a “genital mutilation”? Because our society is inured to it? Because some people practice it as a religious rite? Because it's not as grotesque as the female version? Because there are some supposed health benefits?

What if a religious sect insisted it was their right to practice infibulation on their infant daughters? Would we be violating their freedom of religion if we refused to allow it? (We have clearly already decided that question, haven't we?)

Circumcised males can take comfort in being in the majority and having undergone a procedure that has long been considered unremarkable and of which they haven't the slightest recollection. They understandably react negatively at being told that they were “mutilated” at birth. It's a charged term. At the same time, the uncircumcised minority cringe at the thought of having their foreskins lopped off and marvel that their clipped brethren can be so complacent about having lost theirs. It's what you're used to, I suppose.

The religious aspect doesn't faze people for whom religion is just a superstitious practice that gets more respect than it deserves. Rabbi Leeds hung his argument on the right of people to clip their sons' penises in honor of a supposed covenant with Yahweh. After his article appeared in the Chronicle, San Francisco's archbishop weighed in with an angry letter in support of the rabbi:

I would like to add my “Amen” to the op-ed piece by Rabbi Gil Leeds, “Circumcision ignores our basic religious freedom” (May 20).

The proposed ban on circumcision represents an unconscionable violation of the sanctuaries of faith and family by the government of San Francisco. Although the issue does not concern Christians directly, as a religious leader I can only view with alarm the prospect that this misguided initiative would make it illegal for Jews and Muslims who practice their religion to live in San Francisco—for that is what the passage of such a law would mean.

Apart from the religious aspect, the citizens of San Francisco should be outraged at the prospect of city government dictating to parents in such a sensitive matter regarding the health and hygiene of their children.

George Niederauer, Archbishop of San Francisco

I don't know that you're helping, George. Protecting the health and hygiene of one's children these days would seem to include keeping them away from Catholic churches. May I suggest that you—ahem!—keep your hands off their penises?

To your scattered bodies go

You complete me

In one of Innumeracy's more notorious examples, John Allen Paulos provides a back-of-the-envelope calculation for the probability that you just inhaled a molecule from Julius Caesar's dying breath: “The surprising answer is that, with probability better than 99 percent, you did just inhale such a molecule.” (If you gasped at learning that, the probability probably went up.)

It immediately follows that your body has an exceedingly high probability of containing atoms that were once part of Caesar's body. And atoms from Brutus, too, of course. While Carl Sagan liked to point out that we are made of star stuff, one must not forget that we are made of recycled star stuff.

This has amusing implications for the devout Christian, since all of humanity is supposed to stand before Jesus for final judgment in reconstituted physical bodies. When Jesus says the magic words to assemble all of the dearly departed (including those he conveniently killed by destroying the world), who gets dibs on all of those “previously owned” atoms?

Fairness suggests they should go to the original owners. Therefore Adam and Eve would appear before the throne with intact resurrection bodies (assuming for the moment for the sake of argument that the Edenic couple were real people), but subsequent generations would be increasingly challenged as one progressed along the family tree. I daresay that the most recent revenants would be likely to present a most ghastly and moth-eaten aspect. (God may want to secure the services of George Romero to act as producer-director of the Last Judgment.)

Fortunately for all of us, there are serious scholars available to answer the questions we might have about such significant matters. Such was the case in a recent installment of “Catholic Answers,” the radio call-in program that broadcasts throughout California on the stations owned by Immaculate Heart Radio. A concerned listener wanted to know what would happen on the day of judgment to people whose bodies had not been buried intact. For example, what about organ donors? Could you end up standing before Jesus with a hole in your chest if your heart had gone to another?

Father Tad Pacholczyk, director of education for the National Catholic Bioethics Center, was equal to the task:

It seems like there might be some concerns that would come in the wake of the decision to donate a lot of organs and then sort of the whole question at the resurrection whose body will it be and so on? These are in a sense mysterious questions that we don't have all the answers to, but we know, for example, when people end up having their bodies basically destroyed—and all of us will, I mean, if we're buried in the ground. Eventually, you know, our bodies decompose completely and there's nothing left of them. And some of the elements from our bodies might be taken up into plants that grow above the grave and then those plants would be eaten by animals and then those animals would be eaten by humans. So some of our materials may even be recycled, so to speak, into other people's bodies. None of this is going to pose a problem for the infinite power of God. These are the kinds of things that, yeah, we don't know how he's going to do it, but do know that he is going to do it.

I sometimes also mention the example of St. Maxmilian Kolbe, who died in Auschwitz and his body was put into the crematoria and his ashes went up and were spread all over half of Poland. And when he resurrects, the Lord will be able to, you know, bring his entire body back through the power of God.

Okay. I guess that's all settled now. It's magic.

I knew there had to be a good answer.

Who are those guys?

The madding crowd

For many days now, my most popular blog post has been Where's my money? It's my comment on KSFO's resident morning idiot, Brian Sussman, and his ruminations about “millionaire” college professors. (Yeah, we're all wealthy!) According to Sitemeter, the hits keep coming in, creating a significant but perplexing bulge in my visitor count. Sitemeter also informs me that visitors are being directed to Where's my money? by Google's image search, not word search. There are three graphics accompanying the blog post, but I don't know which one people have been seeking out. Do they want a pin-up poster of Brian Sussman? (Seems unlikely.) The graphic of the guy strolling along with a bag of money? The guy with dollar signs in his eyes?

I don't know. And I don't know why, either.

At first I thought the spate of new visitors would quickly abate. A week later, they're still coming. It's a curiosity.

Addendum

For reasons that only Google could explain (and perhaps not even then), the bag of money graphic at the end of last year's post is what pops up in a list of images that accompanies a search on the word “money.” That's a regular search, not an image search. If you specify an image search, the same image pops up, but this time from a source other than Halfway There. I have no idea how my use of the clip came to rank so high in Google's main search engine, but that is what is currently driving approximately 40% of the visits to this blog. Fame at last! (But not fortune.)