Teaching as a profession doesn't have a lot to recommend it these days. The public has a pretty jaded view of teachers (amazing, considering the ability to read is almost universally passed on through teachers), and politicians see teachers, and other government service employees, and new scapegoats for their own overspending habits. Teaching is one of the few professions I know of where, even though required to be degreed to enter, there is now no job security once you have passed your probationary period; the "tenure" of the past has been almost universally assaulted in the great political attack on the profession. Teaching is a profession where your union can negotiate conditions of employment for you, but has no power to object to negotiation in bad faith, and no legal recourse to the strike, work action, or any other means to attempt to enforce the rights of its members at the table. So why would anyone, in this current unfavorable environment, want to teach?
I've done pretty much everything else I wanted to do. I was a Navy man, submarines, nuclear propulsion plant supervisor. I saw some exciting times, some terrors, some great ports. There had to be something more...
I was an environmental engineer in the early days of environmental engineering, when there were no schools, no degree programs. We came from chemistry, mechanical, nuclear backgrounds. We broke ground in how to write the permits, regulations, and laws that keep our water, air, and land clean, clear, and unpolluted. Those were heady days as well, much of it by the seat of the pants; some mistakes were made, most of them overprotective. Companies were being bought and sold, went in and out of business, exciting times...
I worked for the state putting Veterans back to work. I got to meet a lot of business owners, had to figure out what they wanted in employees, and tried to shoehorn people into jobs. I learned a great deal about small business and jobs, what caused hiring, what didn't. I put lots of fellows to work, but not near as many as I would have liked...
So now I look back, and wonder what the young people have to look forward to. They will need tools, not just a diploma, but some skills, people skills, some inside knowledge about how things work out there. I have some of that knowledge, and I have an interest in sharing it with our youth.
I see the examples young people have on television and in movies; they want to be rock stars, or sports stars, or drug dealers. And why not, our media lionizes all of those? They are buried in images of older men that they think are what they should aspire to... but they shouldn't. The images that popular media spews forth are the worst examples, shallow, stingy, uncaring. Almost as bad are the current crop of politicians, with the "I've got mine, to Heck with you" mantra.
I teach because I want to be an example of what a man in today's world can be for these youths. I want them to see someone that isn't a media cutout, a sports star, a drug dealer. I want them to see a person with a full, successful life, not driven by greed or want of monetary excess. If I can do that, and also teach them a little bit about science, then I will consider this, most likely my last career in life, to have been a good one.
It is said, "find a job you love, and you won't work a day in your life."
MMG
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Sunday, October 16, 2011
Letter to my Great-Grand Children
To the children of my grand children: my legacy, the legacy of my generation, will be upon you about now. Be brave, in a thousand years, this, too, will pass.
My parents and I built a great and grand nation, this United States that has held court and kept the peace during much of my life through force of arms and through judicious use of a vast treasury. I was proud to have taken part of the Pax Americana under the waves, my service, with that of thousands of other young men and women, part of what made our way of life for the better part of a century.
Have you studied Rome, or have the schools finally fallen completely to the elite? As the great empire Rome once kept peace in what it knew as its world, so the borders quaked with a new religion, a religion born of martyrs and zealots, a religion that eventually enveloped the empire itself, and changed it to the core, dismantling the Roman culture, weakening the Roman fist. Rome feel as much from within as from the incessant pounding by tribes that wanted a piece of the glory and riches of Rome from without.
My nation-empire's fall began from its assault by a religion, hitherto almost unknown in the West, the religion of Islam, an attack beginning on the borders. The religion, one of martyrs and zealots, attacked the core of Western culture, seeking to dismantle what it felt was sick and evil about the country. They were right in many ways; we were sick, and many evil influences held sway throughout American culture. In the end, the incessant wars throughout the world on American holdings, as well as the weakening of American institutions from within caused the total collapse of our society.
And as happened with the theocracies of the Middle Ages, we entered an era of no education, little enlightenment, petty inhumanities, and a general meanness of life. This is the legacy we leave to you, my great grandchildren, a Second Dark Age. My hope for you is that the change the last Dark Age worked on Christianity will be worked ever quicker on Islam, and that your own grandchildren will see a brighter future in an enlightened, caring world.
MMG
My parents and I built a great and grand nation, this United States that has held court and kept the peace during much of my life through force of arms and through judicious use of a vast treasury. I was proud to have taken part of the Pax Americana under the waves, my service, with that of thousands of other young men and women, part of what made our way of life for the better part of a century.
Have you studied Rome, or have the schools finally fallen completely to the elite? As the great empire Rome once kept peace in what it knew as its world, so the borders quaked with a new religion, a religion born of martyrs and zealots, a religion that eventually enveloped the empire itself, and changed it to the core, dismantling the Roman culture, weakening the Roman fist. Rome feel as much from within as from the incessant pounding by tribes that wanted a piece of the glory and riches of Rome from without.
My nation-empire's fall began from its assault by a religion, hitherto almost unknown in the West, the religion of Islam, an attack beginning on the borders. The religion, one of martyrs and zealots, attacked the core of Western culture, seeking to dismantle what it felt was sick and evil about the country. They were right in many ways; we were sick, and many evil influences held sway throughout American culture. In the end, the incessant wars throughout the world on American holdings, as well as the weakening of American institutions from within caused the total collapse of our society.
And as happened with the theocracies of the Middle Ages, we entered an era of no education, little enlightenment, petty inhumanities, and a general meanness of life. This is the legacy we leave to you, my great grandchildren, a Second Dark Age. My hope for you is that the change the last Dark Age worked on Christianity will be worked ever quicker on Islam, and that your own grandchildren will see a brighter future in an enlightened, caring world.
MMG
Our Legacy: Our Children's Pain
Much has been said about the "me" generation, or Generation Z as some call it, the young people coming up into the world today with expectations wildly out of sync with the reality of life, expectations that we, their parents, unwittingly seeded in their minds while they were still little children.
Sometime in the 70s and 80s, the education establishment became enthralled with the concept of "self-esteem," a system of self-image that was somehow strong enough to determine future courses for our children. It became vogue to make sure everybody played, no matter how poorly they did so, and ribbons or trophies were awarded simply for participation. The actual level of performance was no longer really important, as those that strove for perfection were not awarded anymore than the ones that barely tried. What were we thinking?
As these young children became young adults, what did we expect from them? They never had to compete for anything, they never had to excel in any endeavor to win accolades; "You are perfect just as you are," "all you have to do is dream hard enough, and you can achieve anything at all." The watchword became "want" and "wish." There was no reaching, no working for goals, and no recognition of a goal out of reach.
On top of this, Media was there to feed the appetite for dreams. Madison Avenue makes its living on selling to dreams, and Media makes its living on selling Madison Avenue. As these same children sat in front of televisions as the new babysitter, Media fueled the dreamers, with no provision for the work that goes into making a dream come true. Just dream it, all is well, just buy this hair product, just buy this happy meal, you can't go wrong.
Our consumer kids are now consumer adults with dreams that aren't being met. Most cannot even find meaningful jobs. They go to college and get degrees in fields that have no real connection to life or living, then are crushed when they are back home with their parents, the same ones that raised them who now are telling them they are lazy, entitled, starry-eyed. What else could they be, we made them that way?
So now they slip into illness, depression. They slink off into corners of addiction and escape. Some are meeting the challenge and switching to the hard work necessary in life, but it isn't easy or nice, and whole families come apart in spectacular fashion. But even then, they leave their less adaptable siblings behind to wallow in their confusion.
Well, we made this mess; as before, it is to us to straighten it out, and by example. The older generation cannot turn over the world just yet, we have to help our children learn how to take the reigns and do the work that must be done. We have to show them what it is to work, without apparent compensation, without immediate payoff.
We have to teach the three things we didn't give our children the first time: patience, determination, and a cause larger than self.
MMG
Sometime in the 70s and 80s, the education establishment became enthralled with the concept of "self-esteem," a system of self-image that was somehow strong enough to determine future courses for our children. It became vogue to make sure everybody played, no matter how poorly they did so, and ribbons or trophies were awarded simply for participation. The actual level of performance was no longer really important, as those that strove for perfection were not awarded anymore than the ones that barely tried. What were we thinking?
As these young children became young adults, what did we expect from them? They never had to compete for anything, they never had to excel in any endeavor to win accolades; "You are perfect just as you are," "all you have to do is dream hard enough, and you can achieve anything at all." The watchword became "want" and "wish." There was no reaching, no working for goals, and no recognition of a goal out of reach.
On top of this, Media was there to feed the appetite for dreams. Madison Avenue makes its living on selling to dreams, and Media makes its living on selling Madison Avenue. As these same children sat in front of televisions as the new babysitter, Media fueled the dreamers, with no provision for the work that goes into making a dream come true. Just dream it, all is well, just buy this hair product, just buy this happy meal, you can't go wrong.
Our consumer kids are now consumer adults with dreams that aren't being met. Most cannot even find meaningful jobs. They go to college and get degrees in fields that have no real connection to life or living, then are crushed when they are back home with their parents, the same ones that raised them who now are telling them they are lazy, entitled, starry-eyed. What else could they be, we made them that way?
So now they slip into illness, depression. They slink off into corners of addiction and escape. Some are meeting the challenge and switching to the hard work necessary in life, but it isn't easy or nice, and whole families come apart in spectacular fashion. But even then, they leave their less adaptable siblings behind to wallow in their confusion.
Well, we made this mess; as before, it is to us to straighten it out, and by example. The older generation cannot turn over the world just yet, we have to help our children learn how to take the reigns and do the work that must be done. We have to show them what it is to work, without apparent compensation, without immediate payoff.
We have to teach the three things we didn't give our children the first time: patience, determination, and a cause larger than self.
MMG
Sunday, July 10, 2011
End of a Dream
Today I visited a small air museum, the Atlantic Maritime Aircraft Museum, outside of Halifax, Nova Scotia. It was a small building near the airport, and this being a Sunday, there were no other visitors. Cynthia chose to wait in the car, airplanes not being her "thing," and she ate a cold lunch while I went inside.
There was a replica of the "Silver Dart," Canada's first heavier than air craft, build by Alexander Graham Bell some time shortly after the Wright Brothers build their flyer. There were several other models, there was a home built that was, well, never quite built, from the 1920s, then there was the star of the show, a beautifully restored, complete, F-104 Starfighter in Canadian Armed Services colors.
The Lockheed F-104 Starfighter was developed as a high-altitude, high speed (Mach 3+) interceptor for the US Air Force in the early 1960s, primarily designed to counter the threat of intercontinental bombers from Russia. The plane was for its time the fastest and highest flying craft in the world, and its lines, essentially a streamlined dart with two short, stubby wings built around a huge jet turbine with a cockpit on the nose, says nothing but all business. When the role of interceptor began to go to other, more modern planes, this plane was sold to our NATO allies, especially Germany and Canada, for their front-line interceptor fleets.
The Germans considered the plane a widow-maker. It killed more pilots than any other in training and flying accidents; the landing speed was atrocious (200+ kts) and it was easy to stall in the hands of a less-than-fully confident pilot.
The Canadians loved the plane. It seemed to perform even better in the super-cold, rarified conditions of the extreme north, and many pilots fell in love with the crate. The Canadian Air Force kept the plane in service longer than any other.
Which brings me to this one plane: there was no one there, just me and the F-104.
When I was young, and beginning to decide what kind of things I might want to do in my life, I set my sights on one thing and one thing only: to fly fighter jets, and the F-104 in particular. The lethal character of the plane drew me to it even as a lad of six or seven, and I read all I could about the plane, at that time our first-line fighter interceptor. I built models, I had drawings, I bought a book about it. This plane, to fly this beautiful deadly machine, was all I wanted to do with my life.
The summer before I entered the eighth grade, I had to start wearing glasses. That was, in effect, the end of all my dreams to fly an F-104. Late at night, when all is quiet, I can still feel what I felt that first night with my glasses - my dreams, my life, slipping away.
Until today, I had never actually touched a Starfighter. I had read that the leading edges of the wings were so sharp, that plastic protectors had to be fitted on them to protect the handling crew. I never really believed that, until I saw it today. The wings, those short, stubby wings, *were* sharp! The cockpit was crowded and all business, not a wasted inch. I could imagine a person "putting on" the plane, and flying it to the edge of the Earth's atmosphere, cozy and confined in that cockpit. She looked even more lethal in person than ever in one of my drawings or photographs, long ago put away.
I just sat with the plane for a bit, admiring, imagining. Then I said good-bye, good-bye to those dreams of long ago, finally, let go of the pain of change and of never achieving. Its good to face old dreams now and again, and realize that you are made of broken dreams, lost chances, paths not taken. It was good no one was there, I could say good-bye to my Starfighter, and my childhood.
-Crow
There was a replica of the "Silver Dart," Canada's first heavier than air craft, build by Alexander Graham Bell some time shortly after the Wright Brothers build their flyer. There were several other models, there was a home built that was, well, never quite built, from the 1920s, then there was the star of the show, a beautifully restored, complete, F-104 Starfighter in Canadian Armed Services colors.
The Lockheed F-104 Starfighter was developed as a high-altitude, high speed (Mach 3+) interceptor for the US Air Force in the early 1960s, primarily designed to counter the threat of intercontinental bombers from Russia. The plane was for its time the fastest and highest flying craft in the world, and its lines, essentially a streamlined dart with two short, stubby wings built around a huge jet turbine with a cockpit on the nose, says nothing but all business. When the role of interceptor began to go to other, more modern planes, this plane was sold to our NATO allies, especially Germany and Canada, for their front-line interceptor fleets.
The Germans considered the plane a widow-maker. It killed more pilots than any other in training and flying accidents; the landing speed was atrocious (200+ kts) and it was easy to stall in the hands of a less-than-fully confident pilot.
The Canadians loved the plane. It seemed to perform even better in the super-cold, rarified conditions of the extreme north, and many pilots fell in love with the crate. The Canadian Air Force kept the plane in service longer than any other.
Which brings me to this one plane: there was no one there, just me and the F-104.
When I was young, and beginning to decide what kind of things I might want to do in my life, I set my sights on one thing and one thing only: to fly fighter jets, and the F-104 in particular. The lethal character of the plane drew me to it even as a lad of six or seven, and I read all I could about the plane, at that time our first-line fighter interceptor. I built models, I had drawings, I bought a book about it. This plane, to fly this beautiful deadly machine, was all I wanted to do with my life.
The summer before I entered the eighth grade, I had to start wearing glasses. That was, in effect, the end of all my dreams to fly an F-104. Late at night, when all is quiet, I can still feel what I felt that first night with my glasses - my dreams, my life, slipping away.
Until today, I had never actually touched a Starfighter. I had read that the leading edges of the wings were so sharp, that plastic protectors had to be fitted on them to protect the handling crew. I never really believed that, until I saw it today. The wings, those short, stubby wings, *were* sharp! The cockpit was crowded and all business, not a wasted inch. I could imagine a person "putting on" the plane, and flying it to the edge of the Earth's atmosphere, cozy and confined in that cockpit. She looked even more lethal in person than ever in one of my drawings or photographs, long ago put away.
I just sat with the plane for a bit, admiring, imagining. Then I said good-bye, good-bye to those dreams of long ago, finally, let go of the pain of change and of never achieving. Its good to face old dreams now and again, and realize that you are made of broken dreams, lost chances, paths not taken. It was good no one was there, I could say good-bye to my Starfighter, and my childhood.
-Crow
Friday, July 1, 2011
Time to Call It Like It Is
I work with a really good person who was my supervisor, who, when faced with a difficult situation, would gather the facts, then face them with the statement: "It is what it is." Whatever the fallout or changes that would be necessitated by the facts, no matter how ugly, would have to be faced head on, no hiding or dressing the pig, as it were. It is what it is.
It is time, in our country, to call things as they are.
Our former president was a law-breaker and drug user before he was elected. How he got so many people to not only ignore, but to actively deny a fact is beyond comprehension. When I was in Washington, DC in the late 1980s, when Geo. H. W. Bush was president, it was common knowledge that George Jr., as he was called then, was "holding court" in town at any of many late night joints, and that cocaine was certainly involved. Secret Service was aware, as were the First Family. He had his driver's license revoked for driving under the influence, a conviction no other candidate has on record. How could this not have been germane?
Today, many, many politicians are yelling about this and that, but then demand that no one peak into their own records or make them accountable for their own personal actions, such as being the beneficiaries of Medicare payments, while at the same time proclaiming they have no use for the system and want it removed. Many politicians seek to send troops to fight in the Forever War, but a quick look into their own history shows no military service, or, if they are old enough, enlistment in their state National Guard, which at the time was a legal method of avoiding the draft (G.W. used it as well to avoid service in Viet Nam). Often there were long waiting lists to join up, so strings had to be pulled. As soon as the war was over and their term was up, most of these weekend warriors hung up their reluctant part-time spurs.
It is what it is.
There are good people that try to do what they think is best for the nation, and those people work tirelessly to that end. John McCain is one such person, never shying away from informed, reasoned discourse, but also refusing to engage in the uninformed senseless personal assassination of another honorable man's character that his political party attempted to engage in. Unlike G.W., John McCain sat in the cockpit of an A-4 on the forward catapult of the USS Forrestal when that ship caught on fire, one of the errant missiles from that conflagration striking the very plane he was in. The next week, he continued his missions from another carrier, and was shot down, to spend the rest of the war in a POW camp being tortured.
Men like him are hopelessly outnumbered, however, by hypocrites whose soul aim is to improve their own personal financial position in life, even at the cost of the nation as a whole. It seems the Entitlement Culture has reached its zenith, enclosing even the very pinnacle of government itself these days. Our elected officials seem to feel they have a right to wealth, power, benefits that the rest of us as normal citizens are denied. This entitlement phenomenon was one of the drivers behind the French Revolution, and all its horror and bloodshed. I would think, in a modern world and an enlightened democracy, we could retake our government from the elite without have to resort to that.
Crow
It is time, in our country, to call things as they are.
Our former president was a law-breaker and drug user before he was elected. How he got so many people to not only ignore, but to actively deny a fact is beyond comprehension. When I was in Washington, DC in the late 1980s, when Geo. H. W. Bush was president, it was common knowledge that George Jr., as he was called then, was "holding court" in town at any of many late night joints, and that cocaine was certainly involved. Secret Service was aware, as were the First Family. He had his driver's license revoked for driving under the influence, a conviction no other candidate has on record. How could this not have been germane?
Today, many, many politicians are yelling about this and that, but then demand that no one peak into their own records or make them accountable for their own personal actions, such as being the beneficiaries of Medicare payments, while at the same time proclaiming they have no use for the system and want it removed. Many politicians seek to send troops to fight in the Forever War, but a quick look into their own history shows no military service, or, if they are old enough, enlistment in their state National Guard, which at the time was a legal method of avoiding the draft (G.W. used it as well to avoid service in Viet Nam). Often there were long waiting lists to join up, so strings had to be pulled. As soon as the war was over and their term was up, most of these weekend warriors hung up their reluctant part-time spurs.
It is what it is.
There are good people that try to do what they think is best for the nation, and those people work tirelessly to that end. John McCain is one such person, never shying away from informed, reasoned discourse, but also refusing to engage in the uninformed senseless personal assassination of another honorable man's character that his political party attempted to engage in. Unlike G.W., John McCain sat in the cockpit of an A-4 on the forward catapult of the USS Forrestal when that ship caught on fire, one of the errant missiles from that conflagration striking the very plane he was in. The next week, he continued his missions from another carrier, and was shot down, to spend the rest of the war in a POW camp being tortured.
Men like him are hopelessly outnumbered, however, by hypocrites whose soul aim is to improve their own personal financial position in life, even at the cost of the nation as a whole. It seems the Entitlement Culture has reached its zenith, enclosing even the very pinnacle of government itself these days. Our elected officials seem to feel they have a right to wealth, power, benefits that the rest of us as normal citizens are denied. This entitlement phenomenon was one of the drivers behind the French Revolution, and all its horror and bloodshed. I would think, in a modern world and an enlightened democracy, we could retake our government from the elite without have to resort to that.
Crow
Thursday, June 30, 2011
God, et al.
I am deeply troubled these days with the latest "fad" (at least, I hope and pray it is such) of trying to force God on one another, like children who need potty training, or the severely disabled who have to be fed by spoon. Of necessity, this means making another accept "my" form or belief of God, wholesale, without compromise. I find it distasteful.
Many of my readers in Facebook are convinced I am atheist: good. And well they should, for I am ever ready to counter any argument concerning "god" with one that can be equally plausible without one. There is little reason to trumpet a deity as a sole reason, when several reasons that do not include a deity will do just as well.
I also cannot accept blaming a deity (and blame it is) for the faults and misdeeds of people, when it is people who do those deeds, and those same people that should answer and repay or repair their damages. People do far too much harm in this world "in the name of God," then hold themselves blameless. This is nothing more than an extension of the entitlement culture that is tearing down society as a whole, only with a divine excuse.
God is quiet. God comes in whispers, not in shouts and yells. Even Our Lord says to pray, not as the Pharisees, with trumpets blaring, but in secret, so no one knows. He tells us to gives alms so secretly that "your right hand knows not what your left hand is doing."
God comes on the midwatch, in the machinery space of a submarine on fire. I know, I have met Him. But you have to be very, very quiet; hold your breath, and you can just hear Him.
Crow
Many of my readers in Facebook are convinced I am atheist: good. And well they should, for I am ever ready to counter any argument concerning "god" with one that can be equally plausible without one. There is little reason to trumpet a deity as a sole reason, when several reasons that do not include a deity will do just as well.
I also cannot accept blaming a deity (and blame it is) for the faults and misdeeds of people, when it is people who do those deeds, and those same people that should answer and repay or repair their damages. People do far too much harm in this world "in the name of God," then hold themselves blameless. This is nothing more than an extension of the entitlement culture that is tearing down society as a whole, only with a divine excuse.
God is quiet. God comes in whispers, not in shouts and yells. Even Our Lord says to pray, not as the Pharisees, with trumpets blaring, but in secret, so no one knows. He tells us to gives alms so secretly that "your right hand knows not what your left hand is doing."
God comes on the midwatch, in the machinery space of a submarine on fire. I know, I have met Him. But you have to be very, very quiet; hold your breath, and you can just hear Him.
Crow
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