Guest Blogger - Jack Bear from Professional Society for Training Humans
I woke up and stretched across my big bed. The human was crowding me again. I don't understand why she can't stay on her own side of the bed. I stood up and finished my stretching hoping to wake the human, as is our morning routine. I knew there were more humans (her sister and mother) staying in the house today and it was my duty to make sure they were awake and ready to play with me.
I got down off the bed, making sure to grunt when I hit the floor. The human still refused to stir. Boy, could she be stubborn. Deciding there was no other option, I began barking and whimpering at her. "Ja-ack!" she squealed. Success! With plenty of back-talking and complaining, she got up and took me outside. Seriously, it's the least she could do. I don't make her wait to go potty. She goes whenever she wants. It's really crazy how stubborn humans are.
Anyway, it seemed as thought we were going to continue our morning routine peacefully. She took her sweet time getting dressed to take me out, but we got there eventually. We came back inside and she prepared my breakfast. This is all normal, but this is where the normalcy ended.
My human then proceeded to sit in the living room with her mom and sister. What! This is not what we do. Our normal routine is for me to eat breakfast while she goes into the office, sits at her desk and stares at the computer screen while drinking coffee. She hits the buttons on the computer repeatedly, grunts, looks distressed and makes odd sounds. I'm used to this by now. I lay in my bed next to her chair and get to play with special toys. Occasionally, I get a treat. After about two hours, I start barking and whimpering at her and she takes me for a walk. That's what normally happens.
So, anyway, my human is sitting in the living room talking to her mom and sister. I see it as part of my Alpha Dog/Man of the House role to ensure that my human behaves properly. This includes sticking to our routines. I begin barking at her. She ignores me, even squealing, "Ja-aaaa-ck" and "shush". Seeing that she was not going to cooperate this morning, I decided more desperate measures were needed. I began scratching at the door, knowing how much that bothers her. "Ja-ack, I just took you out! You don't need to go! Stop!" These silly remarks continued for a while, but finally she caved (like always). When she stood up and came over to me, I turned on her and began biting her heels and toes. (Note to all dogs out there: humans will walk where you want them to when you use this approach. In my experiences, it has been very successful.) Anyway, I then guide her into the office. She is squealing and screaming the entire time - really humans are too loud, always yapping!
Finally, I get her to the chair. She smarts up to my plan and sits down like a good girl. To reward her, I stop biting her heels and lay down quietly in my bed. I look up at her using my most adorable puppy eyes knowing she can't be mad at me. She begins smiling and laughing; then, she reaches down and scratches my ear while telling me I'm a good dog. I really don't get humans. One minute they are yelling at you then they act like your best friend. Her mom and sister then come into the room laughing as well. I guess I didn't get the joke.
Since you are wondering, my human punched away on the computer for about thirty minutes then I got my walk. See, humans can be trained! :)
Friday, September 21, 2012
Monday, July 23, 2012
It's official - the world is coming to an end!
When the next generation of human beings come across the remains of our desolate world many years from now, they will deduce that this morning's event caused the end of the world. The date: 7.23.12, a happy combination of prime numbers (which I adore) and the number 12 (clearly Aggie). Seems like an appropriate day for the world to come to an end, as I have caused it. Now, of course I am employing hyperbole (exaggeration) to maximize my point, but it's not far from the truth.
To begin, I am a procrastinator. Not just any kind of procrastinator. I'm the queen bee procrastinator. It's not that I am lazy or unmotivated, quite the opposite. I have always attributed my procrastination to two causes: (1) I'm very busy and (2) I like the pressure of a looming deadline.
First of all, I really am busy (but isn't everyone). I do things in the order they are due, but that usually leads to them being done right before they are due. That's how calendars work. Secondly, I like pressure. When I know something has to be done, and I only have X amount of time to finish it - I work really well. I've written many papers the night before (or morning) they are due. It works. Always has. I'm even particularly proud of the 30-page research paper I wrote in two days, which my professor loved. Even I realize that this is not the most wonderful method for working, but what else have I had to go on?
Let's go back to...mid-March? I think that is right; I'm sure I'll be corrected if it's not. A friend of mine was trying to teach me a new way of doing things. This new method required writing every day and logging my time spent writing. How ridiculous. I'm fairly certain that is the disdainful indignation that I responded to her with. She's still my friend. She's a trouper. She tells me how great this model is and how much it will help me. I resisted. Continued on my ways. Still succeeded (haha).
Now, let's come back to the present day. I have a book review to write for my class. The class in which I am learning the intricacies and details for this ridiculous method of productivity my friend was trying to teach me. I have been working hard on acculturating myself to this method. Through using this method, I have written a draft of my book review, which I sent to my mom last night to read and give me her thoughts on.
This morning, I was talking to my mom about the review, asking her what she thought. I told her I would finish it today then look over it again tomorrow. Puzzled, she asks, "Isn't it due today?" Poor mother. This is the mother who has relentlessly asked me weeks and days ahead of deadlines if my "paper is written yet?" Always with the answer, "Mom, it isn't due until XXXX". Again, poor thing. Usually on the day before a paper is due she would get the answer, "I'm starting it now".
Today, I reply, "oh, it isn't due until Thursday". Today is Monday. I think my mother had a heart attack. Lord Almighty, Hell has frozen over at last! Pigs are flying! The end of the world must be near. I have a paper completed - written, edited and reviewed - DAYS before the due date. This is big.
After she regained her ability to speak, my mom said, "So...your friend was right? Again. Second time in a week." (but I'll never admit that)
:)
To begin, I am a procrastinator. Not just any kind of procrastinator. I'm the queen bee procrastinator. It's not that I am lazy or unmotivated, quite the opposite. I have always attributed my procrastination to two causes: (1) I'm very busy and (2) I like the pressure of a looming deadline.
First of all, I really am busy (but isn't everyone). I do things in the order they are due, but that usually leads to them being done right before they are due. That's how calendars work. Secondly, I like pressure. When I know something has to be done, and I only have X amount of time to finish it - I work really well. I've written many papers the night before (or morning) they are due. It works. Always has. I'm even particularly proud of the 30-page research paper I wrote in two days, which my professor loved. Even I realize that this is not the most wonderful method for working, but what else have I had to go on?
Let's go back to...mid-March? I think that is right; I'm sure I'll be corrected if it's not. A friend of mine was trying to teach me a new way of doing things. This new method required writing every day and logging my time spent writing. How ridiculous. I'm fairly certain that is the disdainful indignation that I responded to her with. She's still my friend. She's a trouper. She tells me how great this model is and how much it will help me. I resisted. Continued on my ways. Still succeeded (haha).
Now, let's come back to the present day. I have a book review to write for my class. The class in which I am learning the intricacies and details for this ridiculous method of productivity my friend was trying to teach me. I have been working hard on acculturating myself to this method. Through using this method, I have written a draft of my book review, which I sent to my mom last night to read and give me her thoughts on.
This morning, I was talking to my mom about the review, asking her what she thought. I told her I would finish it today then look over it again tomorrow. Puzzled, she asks, "Isn't it due today?" Poor mother. This is the mother who has relentlessly asked me weeks and days ahead of deadlines if my "paper is written yet?" Always with the answer, "Mom, it isn't due until XXXX". Again, poor thing. Usually on the day before a paper is due she would get the answer, "I'm starting it now".
Today, I reply, "oh, it isn't due until Thursday". Today is Monday. I think my mother had a heart attack. Lord Almighty, Hell has frozen over at last! Pigs are flying! The end of the world must be near. I have a paper completed - written, edited and reviewed - DAYS before the due date. This is big.
After she regained her ability to speak, my mom said, "So...your friend was right? Again. Second time in a week." (but I'll never admit that)
:)
Friday, July 20, 2012
Word-wielding, Rule-breaking, Small Town Girl
I love to write. I love to blog. Therefore, I am blogging about writing! :)
Growing up, I was not a "good" writer, or that is what my teachers told me. I was an intelligent kid, but something just didn't click with writing. I still, distinctly, remember the day I learned this skill. Seventeen-years-old, sitting in a junior college classroom, taking a pre-course for the college classes I was in rolled in for the fall semester, I learned to write. A brilliant teacher came forward and taught me the process. She modeled how to begin with a blank piece of paper and turn it into a work of art through words. I was so proud of the paper I wrote for her, which got a perfect score, I took it home and stuck it on the refrigerator where it stayed for at least five years.
This one act had extreme ramifications on my life. I feel that it completely altered the path I was destined to travel down. I can still visualize golden streets in the sky (like the ones leading to Oz) suddenly changing like the staircases in Hogwarts. This shift led me to become an undergraduate English major with a focus on rhetoric, a freelance editor, and an aspiring Ph.D. student focusing on improving writing skills of adolescents. See a connection? I surely do.
Currently, I am enrolled in my first graduate level writing course and it is, yet again, altering my views on writing and the path my life has taken. See, I do love to write. I already mentioned that. However, I should qualify, I like to creatively write. Poetry, blogs, short stories, personal diaries. Things filled with emotion and humor. Do you think this is what earns one a Ph.D. in education? Not so much. Academics don't want to read journal articles filled with emotions and humor. Whomp, whomp.
So, I have been struggling with an internal battle: how do I become a distinguished, respected writer in my field yet hold onto the voice and character that makes my writing so unique, so me? Once again, I am overwhelmed and supported by the effects of a great teacher. My writing teacher was courageous enough to read a sample of something academic that I am currently working on. Filled with images of a classroom, portraits of students working hard and humor created through word play, this piece spoke of who I am: both as an educator/researcher and writer.
She was not appalled at my writing style. She did not tell me to take the creativity out. What??? That's right, she actually advocated for me to be creative within my academic writing. As she put it, "You just have to know the rules very well - so you can bend them almost to the point of breaking them without actually crossing that line." Good grief, this woman figured me out quickly. I get to be creative and I get to break rules? This is just too much goodness! She gave me tips for when and where I can be creative in academic writing and where I should stick to protocol.
With this information in hand, I am now inspired to continue writing academically, to let my unique voice be heard, to continue to push the envelope of public education, and now, to push the envelope of academic writing as well.
Here's to a hopeful journey! :)
Growing up, I was not a "good" writer, or that is what my teachers told me. I was an intelligent kid, but something just didn't click with writing. I still, distinctly, remember the day I learned this skill. Seventeen-years-old, sitting in a junior college classroom, taking a pre-course for the college classes I was in rolled in for the fall semester, I learned to write. A brilliant teacher came forward and taught me the process. She modeled how to begin with a blank piece of paper and turn it into a work of art through words. I was so proud of the paper I wrote for her, which got a perfect score, I took it home and stuck it on the refrigerator where it stayed for at least five years.
This one act had extreme ramifications on my life. I feel that it completely altered the path I was destined to travel down. I can still visualize golden streets in the sky (like the ones leading to Oz) suddenly changing like the staircases in Hogwarts. This shift led me to become an undergraduate English major with a focus on rhetoric, a freelance editor, and an aspiring Ph.D. student focusing on improving writing skills of adolescents. See a connection? I surely do.
Currently, I am enrolled in my first graduate level writing course and it is, yet again, altering my views on writing and the path my life has taken. See, I do love to write. I already mentioned that. However, I should qualify, I like to creatively write. Poetry, blogs, short stories, personal diaries. Things filled with emotion and humor. Do you think this is what earns one a Ph.D. in education? Not so much. Academics don't want to read journal articles filled with emotions and humor. Whomp, whomp.
So, I have been struggling with an internal battle: how do I become a distinguished, respected writer in my field yet hold onto the voice and character that makes my writing so unique, so me? Once again, I am overwhelmed and supported by the effects of a great teacher. My writing teacher was courageous enough to read a sample of something academic that I am currently working on. Filled with images of a classroom, portraits of students working hard and humor created through word play, this piece spoke of who I am: both as an educator/researcher and writer.
She was not appalled at my writing style. She did not tell me to take the creativity out. What??? That's right, she actually advocated for me to be creative within my academic writing. As she put it, "You just have to know the rules very well - so you can bend them almost to the point of breaking them without actually crossing that line." Good grief, this woman figured me out quickly. I get to be creative and I get to break rules? This is just too much goodness! She gave me tips for when and where I can be creative in academic writing and where I should stick to protocol.
With this information in hand, I am now inspired to continue writing academically, to let my unique voice be heard, to continue to push the envelope of public education, and now, to push the envelope of academic writing as well.
Here's to a hopeful journey! :)
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