Shy Guy | Really Random Writings

        So, for today's article....well, allow me to explain. I was extraordinarily shy growing up. Those who knew me at the time may say that that is the understatement of the century. I was horrendously shy,  especially around the ladies. When I turned 16 and started getting to the dating age, my parents "encouraged" me to go on dates to learn how to be socially appropriate on a date. And it was a struggle. But, it was good for me. When taking an online English class my senior year of high school, I wrote a paper about it where poor picked-on me got the upper hand in the whole dating drama. I used my goofy sense of humor to explain the whole high school ordeal, and just had fun with it. I wrote it several years ago, so the writing is kind of....well, I hope my writing skills have  improved slightly since high school. Even though it may be a little adolescent, I'll still give you the original unadulterated version of this really random writing.

 

November, 2005. MacCabe Supreme Rulers vs. Cody

        Today, for the first time known in human history, documents of unconstitutional proportion spill forth from the MacCabe household in Salem, Utah, and the latest reports of the ensuing scandal are now pouring in. Mom MacCabe and Dad MacCabe (the Executive, Legislative, Judicial, and Punitive branches of the MacCabe Household) overturned their poor, defenseless son’s decision to not go to a dance. Their son was not allowed a lawyer, a severe breach of the Sixth Amendment of the United States of America. The rulings against the son impose strict penalties concerning his decision. There is no known provision known in the history of the world’s governments, but in this case the son felt forced to go on a date. The rulers in question, “Mom” and “Dad” MacCabe, gave their oldest son the option to ask one girl a month on a date, or ask a girl to each of the boy’s choice dances at Spanish Fork High School. It is not known what the punishment would be for this teen had he disobeyed, but several psychologists who examined this teen suspect the consequences would be too disturbing to put into print.  Here is the story of the teenager who went through a trial, survived, and became stronger because of the predicament that the rulers of this household dumped on his unsuspecting shoulders.

        “I could imagine the headlines for Time magazine when my parents dropped the bombshell on me in late November of 2005. I was just trying to survive school by getting through my junior year when my mom decided that I wanted to go to the November boys’ choice dance. I couldn’t believe it, since I knew no one and felt very shy at the time. Worst of all, she mentioned this just as I found out that we didn’t have any more Captain Crunch cereal. I felt the unfairness of the rule because my older sister had never been forced to make decisions like these." What happened to equality? And where the heck did my vote go? Oh wait, I didn’t get a vote. I know that life throws punches now and then, but I hadn’t experienced such persecution ever before.

        I had asked one girl to a dance before when I went to the Prom in Rexburg. My sister and mom badgered me to ask a girl I knew until I finally gave in. Following my mother’s logic, my father decided to follow in suit and declare himself an advocate of the “cause.” I went on the date, although I suffered psychological impairment for the rest of forever. Somehow I managed to survive, though severely weakened and discomfited. I thought that first date would be the end of it, but then my parents decided to pass this…well, amendment, for lack of a better word. So far I see every indication that I am the only one of their kids to whom this unconstitutional decision applies.

        I managed to struggle my way out of the November dance, only to find myself asked to the December girls’ choice dance, but the January dance, Recession, loomed over me. My parents reminded me of the new provision of the MacCabe Family Constitution, and I decided to cooperate rather than face the dire consequences which I felt sure would follow. I asked a girl, went to the dance, and once again survived. Though I was weakened, I regained my strength enough to once again open the jelly jars without running them under hot water first.

        The next dance coming up was the Prom. Oh, the battle that ensued! I came home from a meeting attended only by males, and my Mom asked who I had asked to Prom. I was shocked back into reality. I once again decided to ask a girl to Prom, rather than risk the terrible wrath of the MacCabe dictatorship. I didn’t put up too much of a fuss and decided to face this situation like a brave man headed to the guillotine. I used all the techniques that my parents had taught me on the date and at the dance (they do some useful things for me) like opening the car door, offering my hand, not picking my nose, and not stepping on my date’s feet at the dance. I returned home triumphant, certain that my parents hadn’t beaten me this time. Ha!

        The summer went by with no dances scheduled. I worked all summer, and before I knew it, school started up with Homecoming looming in the foreground. I finally inquired of my parents whether their amendment still applied to this year or not. My hopes were crushed when they offered me the same choices—ask a girl to each of the boy’s choice dances or plan a date once a month. I asked someone whether I wanted to or not. I didn’t see that I had a choice. Once more a girl took pity on me and said yes. I suspect an under-the-table agreement had taken place between her and my parents. Even with whatever incentive they offered her, she locked me out of the car. Since I drove, she finally unlocked the door, as my friend in the back didn’t even have the decency to unlock it for me. He and his date were too busy laughing.

        I didn’t feel I had failed yet, and I determined to beat my parents at their own game and enjoy myself. When the November dance that I had avoided last year rolled around, I did not argue and asked a girl without the terrorization I had come to expect from my family. The girl I asked even placed as second runner-up to the Harvest Queen. I returned home triumphant. Just recently, I asked a girl to Recession, only to lose to her in the race through the inflatable obstacle course.

        While the thought of Prom weighs heavily on my mind, I have decided to attend whether or not my parents end up in jail. I have realized that not only does it makes the girls extremely pleased to be asked to a dance (I still haven’t figured that out), it makes me stronger to do something that once made me uncomfortable. It also pleases certain friends that have been rooting for me. I have had fun at all of the dances, now that I’m looking back on it. That does not mean by any stretch of the imagination that I would have asked the girls had my parents not exercised unrighteous dominion over me, but I survived, had a bit of fun in the process, can go through a date without too much discomfort, and realized that going on a date has its benefits. I don’t mean to imply that I just accept what my parents did to me, but I might not press charges against them for all of this.

        Well, there you have it, folks! This kid went through a trying ordeal and came out on top! He was unfairly forced by a so called “legal process” and grew a bit in the process, and then he learned that while he is sort of grateful for what his parents did, that won’t keep them from going to…no, wait! His parents are being led out of the courthouse now! And from the cuffs around their wrists, I would say that the judge ruled in favor of Cody! Congratulations, Cody! We are proud of him for standing firm under adversity, making those girls happy by asking them on a date, and for growing up in the process.

(To make your own decision concerning the constitutionality of this case, see the Constitution of the United States, Section 12, Article 4, row 14, seat 2)

The Numbers Game: A Lesson on Learning | Really Random Writings

So...This piece is perhaps not so random. I wrote this recently for an English class.

I am quite concerned with the direction the education system here in America is headed, and took parts of two articles that I really enjoyed, put parts of them together, and stated what I think is wrong with our system from a student's perspective. I think we used to have the greatest system in the world, back in the day where we didn't care whether or not we were #1 in standardized tests. I've been in school for the last eighteen or nineteen years, I've had plenty of time in the system recently. Don't get me wrong, learning is awesome. But, I no longer always equate school with learning.

The two articles are "Diagnosing and Treating the Ophelia Syndrome" by Thomas G. Plummer, and "The Love of Learning" by David McCullough. Hope you enjoy the read.

Thomas G Plummer

David McCullough

The Numbers Game: A Lesson on Learning

Cody L. MacCabe

English 201

Ms. Thompson

Mar 04, 2013 

The Numbers Game: A Lesson on Learning

You are defined by a number. A single number. Or a single letter. And if your number is not a 4.0, you’re no good. If your letter is not an A, we don’t want you.

            This is the value of today’s students in America; the numbers that represent them. Young human beings are reduced down to a number, slapped on a piece of paper, or mechanically entered into some cybersphere. This is the message that is being sent to students across America. However, there are key principles taught by David McCullough in his address “Love of Learning,” and Thomas G. Plummer’s “Diagnosing and Treating the Ophelia Syndrome” that have given me new insight into addressing the errors in our educational system that so many today are lamenting, yet are misdiagnosing, and treating with snake oil. These two men have been on both the learner and the teacher side of life, and I believe have correctly identified critical elements to true learning. And as they possess such experience, it begs the question: how does our country’s current approach to education align with these men’s ideas about learning? May I be so bold as to propose that it does not. These men provide the two key pieces to education that our country is currently lacking, and while both use rational thinking to arrive at their conclusions, Plummer argues that individuals stunt their learning and growth when they depend on others to do the thinking, while McCullough focuses on the distinction between learning, and the accumulation of information.

Summary

 In the first article, “Diagnosing and Treating the Ophelia Syndrome,” Thomas G. Plummer (1990/2013), a professor of Germanic and Slavic languages, laments a widespread lack of individual’s ability to think for their own self, labeling the condition “Ophelia Syndrome.” The symptoms of this mental malady, he argues, include a dependency on others to tell you what and how to think, and the consequences can be severe to the point that an adult “chooses to be a baby,” someone who doesn’t know their opinion, and wouldn’t tell an authority figure even if they did (p. 438). He suggests that in today’s universities there comes a point in every field where a teacher can no longer tell a student what to think. And if students have never been taught to think for themselves, it will severely limit their ability to learn and grow. The students must learn to shoulder the role of thinking through the next steps on their own. He concludes by encouraging self-motivated action, and stepping outside of the scholastic boundaries that are so prevalent in today’s society, again acknowledging the difficulties that accompany shaking off Ophelia Syndrome.

The second, an address by David McCullough, Yale University graduate, contemporary American historian and recipient of the Presidential Medal of Freedom, makes clear not only the importance of an education in today’s world, but in his essay “The Love of Learning” (2008/2013), discusses what actual learning is, and the importance of making a love of learning central to our lives. He begins by first clarifying the widely misunderstood notion that information accumulation and learning are the same thing, suggesting that a person may have all manner of information and data, yet still miss the truth. McCullough then goes on to tell us from what source learning can be acquired (books and teachers,) and through what purpose learning can be attained (concentrated work.) In essence, he prescribes a love of learning to become someone who never stops learning.

Rhetorical Analysis

Plummer takes on a logical approach to addressing students as he tackles the issue of dependency in learning. He is easily able to explain how this “Ophelia syndrome” is in fact a serious problem, showing how the inability of individuals to take the learning process into their own hands naturally grants someone else the license to dictate what and how they think. It defies logic to think that dependence on another will somehow allow one to reach their fullest potential. To Plummer’s audience, who were taking great pains to educate themselves, the idea that they are responsible to stand on their own intellectual feet is something that will go over well with them. McCullough takes a similar rational approach to a connected topic, the love of learning.

David McCullough makes an effective appeal pointing out the notable differences between information and learning. He argues that if they were indeed one and the same, one would merely need to memorize the World Almanac to be educated. To his graduating audience, explaining to them that the information gathered in recent years and the processes that they went through in order to obtain that information are quite different would likely be quite simple. He points out that learning requires more than just entering information into the head. As learning is a lifelong process, not only coming to love learning, but learning to reason for yourself will be an invaluable asset no matter your age.

Idea Analysis

            Both of these men show great wisdom as they talk about the importance of learning, and they both are able to convey the importance of motivating yourself to learn. They effectively encourage their audience to take learning into their own hands, to reach new intellectual heights as they motivate themselves to learn. But they differ slightly in the messages they are trying to convey. McCullough speaks of what learning is, and how to develop a love of learning. He explains learning, and shares his experience with learning to show how he came to that conclusion. Plummer, on the other hand, focuses his remarks on the dangers of becoming reliant on another to learn in your place. He argues that true learning takes place when a student steps outside the shadow of the teacher. The two aren’t unrelated however, as the effect of developing an eagerness to learn will be an understanding of the necessity to rely on yourself for learning.

Synthesis

            While I agree that what these men have to say about the learning processes of individuals and the potential barriers to learning is fantastic, I would argue that their ideas can be extrapolated on a wider scale, applying also to how societal symptoms brought on by our bureaucratic zeal to “educate” individuals can disrupt learning. As evidence for this, I simply ask if our system today focuses on helping students to learn to love. Or, does it simply focus on getting students to pass the next test or quiz, which allows us to yet again assess their “knowledge” with a number? A student with a passion to learn will never be exceeded by a brilliant student that is lazy, and a country founded on creative and independent thinking doesn’t need to worry about falling behind those that play the numbers game. I believe a short history lesson allows us perspective into the damaging effects that dependency on some higher-up coupled by a lackluster desire to learn can create.

            At the conclusion of WWII, Admiral Sadatoshi Tomioka of the Imperial Japanese Navy directly, and I believe correctly, blamed the Japanese loss of the war on their educational system, stating that they had been teaching their students figures and facts at the expense of individual thinking. In short, Japan was infected with Ophelia Syndrome at a national level. Almost everyone had to rely on someone else higher up to tell them how to think, what to think, and how to act on that knowledge. An individual love of learning, combined with the ability to think as an individual didn’t exist in the Japanese system. Learning was simply a cultural expectation, and perfectly emulating the teacher was considered to be the epitome of learning. It is a weakness that cost them the war, as well as continues to inhibit their growth in modern times. Now, let’s see what is happening in America today. We want a number attached to every single piece of information students “learn,” ‘cause by golly, if it’s not a number it’s not data, and if it’s not data we don’t want it ‘cause how in the heck are we going to know if our students are smarter than other countries students if we can’t compare numbers! We want it known that we have the best students and educators in the world, according to our definition of "best" is! We demand action, preferably throwing money at standardized testing, ‘cause said action will get something done (we’re sure), and we want higher numbers than anyone else, and we want it now! So sit down, shut yer yap, and pass your test, dang it!! 

             Needless to say, I decided long ago that I would not let a number tell me what I did or didn’t learn in a class. I fear that we in America are following this same path of focusing on facts and figures and expecting students to simply regurgitate what they are taught.

Rather than encourage learning, this drives students to not only become extremely dependent on teachers for the acquisition of information, but it creates absolutely zero desire for students to learn. Drop-out rates among high school students substantially increased since the passage of the law known as NCLB. McCullough talks of the importance of learning to love learning, not learning to cram every bit of our brain full of information. Politicians that haven’t been in a classroom since their last re-election campaign dream up and pronounce lofty standards that students and teachers must reach fail to realize the havoc they are wreaking on the creativity and individual thinking that made this country great. Ramming more math, more reading, more science down the throats of students nationwide will suffocate students scholastically, as well as stifle any desire to participate in what they have been taught is “learning.”  I believe Bill Watterson adequately describes this in the following Calvin and Hobbes cartoon:

         As the only experience that Calvin has had with learning was in school with Miss Wormwood making him learn, he initially failed to realize that learning was not strictly limited to school. However, when he found a passion for a subject, he took the reins to control his own learning experience. This, along with the powerful points made by McCullough and Plummer have helped me to now better understand that by assisting students to come to love learning, they will propel themselves to new intellectual heights, instead of atrophying academically in a system that teaches dependency on teachers, letters, and numbers.

Conclusion

            The greatest impact that a teacher can have on his or her students is to instill in the student a desire to go out and learn on their own. T.S. Eliot, a world-renown publisher and literary critic once asked, “Where is the wisdom we have lost in knowledge? Where is the knowledge we have lost in information?” America is currently engaged in an experiment to raise the greatest generation of test-takers this world has ever seen. And we’re suffering for it. We have become obsessed with numbers as a society, which has driven students to dislike learning, and to become increasingly dependent on teachers to boot. Reducing our bureaucratic emphasis on numbers and information, and instead allow our teachers to help students build a foundation for additional knowledge will increase a student’s desire to learn. Learning is more than accumulating relayed information. My flash drive can do that. And when my flash drive and I perform the same function, one of us becomes unnecessary. 

References

McCullough, D. (2008/2013). The love of learning. In R. Seamons (Ed.) The way of wisdom (pp. 333-336). Rexburg, ID: BYU–Idaho. Retrieved from http://ilearn.byui.edu

Plummer, T. G. (1990/2013). Diagnosing and treating the Ophelia syndrome. In R. Seamons (Ed.) The way of wisdom (pp. 438-447). Rexburg, ID: BYU–Idaho. Retrieved from http://ilearn.byui.edu 

So there I was... | Really Random Writings

So, before I post my first really random writing, I will warn y'all that I am a huge rock nerd. I'm studying geology, and for some reason I geek out about rocks and fossils and such. I can't even remember why I wrote this, I know it wasn't for a class. But, it was about one of my favorite field trips ever, and the impact that it had on my apt. with five other guys. And for some reason I can't remember, a certain roommate named Dylan got caught of this idea of coprolites (fossilized dinosaur feces) around this time, and needled me about it for the rest of the semester. I did take just a few artistic liberties and dramatized it just a shade. Or a whole lot. Enjoy.



So there I was, ‘cause that’s how all good stories start. I was in the twenty-second year of my existence, and preparing for the adventure of a lifetime. Or at least a college career. Yes ladies and gentlemen, it was the eve of the Historical Geology field trip. The 112-geology class was going out in the middle of nowhere, Utah, peeling off of the dirt road and wandering even further into a barren wasteland. Oh yes, it was the dream of any geology student worth his (or her) halite! A weekend of traveling in a stuffy van pulling a trailer, wandering around the Utah desert looking at formations that defy general principles of geology, and chasing 450 million year old fossils through shale pits and up mountains. Nothing could ruin this moment.

I was in the final moments of preparation before drifting off into a blissful slumber filled with dreams of Elrathia the size of volcano bombs when my roommate, Dylan, tromped into the apartment with mayhem on his mind. He noticed the assortment of picks, chisels, field journals, camping equipment, grits and the fragment of stromatolitic limestone that has become my personal pet rock, and stopped dead in his tracks. The atmosphere in the apartment became as thick and cold as the cynobacterial mats that our class would be visiting in the next few days. A slight, evil grin appeared on his face, and I knew that this could get ugly.

"Whatcha up to??"

I wasn't sure the best way to respond. The wrong response, and I could kiss a future ride to Wal-Mart to get Oreos goodbye.

"Well, my geology trip is tomorrow. Thought I might get the necessities together before morning."

His eyes narrowed. "Fair enough. What are you doin' on this trip?"

"Oh, chasing some fossils, looking at some formations, climbing up an uplifted reef, and driving out to some cynobacterial mats. It should be fun."

"Sweet man! Is that what you want to do?"

I hesitated. "I wouldn't mind it if we could find some rocks other than fossils. But I'm not complaining."

"What is it you want to find?"

His curiosity put me in a cautions mode. It could be actual curiosity, but previous curiosity from roommates had proven to not be necessarily fatal, but was an experience I wouldn't wish to go through again.

"Actually, I wish we could find some coprolites. They look really nice when they've been polished up."

He wasn't easily impressed. "Coprolite? What's that? Something you eat? Hahaha!"

"It is actually paramineralized dinosaur feces. I know that sounds gross, but it actually looks pretty cool." 

"Feces?"

I explained. "It is fossilized dinosaur dung."

"DINO POO! Haha, you want to go find dino poo!!"

This conversation could have been worse, so I proceeded. "Well, I guess that’s one way to put it..."

"DINO POO!"

I was accustomed to a slightly more scientific range of vocabulary, and wasn't sure how to respond.

"Let me show you a picture..." "DINO POO!" shouted Dylan over my feeble attempts to justify a fascination with the excrement of 100 million year old extinct critters.

"No, really, let me show you some of it, its quite pretty." I pulled up a chair and started stabbing at the keys on my keyboard before he could once again belittle a dazzling geologic conglomerate of minerals. Dylan pulled up close and surprisingly remained quiet as I googled coprolite and pulled up the first picture I could find.

"That looks like POO!"

I couldn't argue. I should have looked at the picture before pulling it up.

"Give me a sec, let me find a good pic."

"DINO POO!"

I didn't have to search long before finding some beautifully tumbled (and overpriced) coprolites that would stun even Dylan with their radiance.

"Not gonna lie, that’s kinda cool!"

I was grateful for his understanding. "See, it's really cool what Mother Nature can do, isn't it?"

"DINO POO!"

I sighed and looked at the clock. It was past my bedtime.

3 days later….

I stumbled back into the apartment just before curfew, bone-tired and scraped up but thrilled with the weekends catch. Its not every Saturday night that you get to come home from a weekend romp with 30 lbs worth of trilobites, other Cambrian/Ordovician age organisms forever frozen in stone caskets, and a beautiful Receptaculitid specimen that William Buckland himself would have been proud of.

The roommates, I soon found out, would not be so impressed to find an assortment of shale over half of the living room. I tried to keep my new treasures out of the Xbox/Wii/Rock Band/Guitar Hero/sound system/projector/TV area of the living room, but didn’t quite succeed.

“CODY! No fair having a landslide in the living room!”
"Shoot, you leave any rocks in Utah?”

Protesting that everyone else on the trip brought home enough rocks to sink a battleship (or at least enough to give the trailer a flat) had little effect.

“These are not staying here.”

           
My roommate Cam had little appreciation for the finer things in life, it would seem.            

           
“Just looking, I’ll get them out of the way here in a minute,” I muttered. Why I couldn’t take up my 1/6^th of the living room, I will never know.            

           
I headed to my bedroom to dump everything but my rocks, and stopped short. The small part of the room I shared with Dylan that was not occupied with his computers, personal Xbox, guitars, a small mountain of DVDs and 12 two liters of Mt. Dew was now occupied with a futon. Any chance for storing a wealth of geologic spoils in my own bedroom was now Dead On Arrival.

       
You know, its not that I mind sharing space, he owned most of the room’s space already. But what’s a guy to do when his rocks aren’t given the proper amount of space to be properly appreciated?? I decided to let Cam and Dylan fight it out. I try not to get involved in the petty day-to-day drama of a college apartment. I prefer a more simplistic lifestyle, out with the fresh air, some rocks, possibly a Dactylioceras or Flexicalimine to keep me company.

           
Dylan romped back into the apartment well after curfew, citing an official round of Halo in the apartment next door. And as has been the case thus far in this tale, he too was unimpressed with my recently acquired collection of mineral matter of variable composition, with a few remains, impressions, and traces of living things of former geologic ages mixed in. Lucky for me, he enjoyed needling me more than he disliked my rocks. Sometimes, you just have to take what you can get out of people…

           
“Hey, where’s your DINO POO?!? Ha ha ha!!”

           
I was slightly less than amused. Sleep had been a bit on the short side lately, and my patience was wearing as thin as a sheet of muscovite.

           
“I’m afraid that we had to put the Dino Poo on hold,” I said gravely. “We had to return post-haste due to a medical emergency.”

           
His eyes widened. “What, who died?!?”

           
“No one died. However, a maiming occurred while searching for the remains of former organisms, and sometimes those things get ugly. I guess its part of the job though…”

           
“What happened?!”

           
I took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly. “Well, if you must know, I was the injured party. While carefully uncovering layers of hardened clastic sedimentary boundstone, I was assaulted by a horde of rampaging Elrathia. Somehow, I managed to escape with only minimal wounds on my forearm. A cursory glance at the lacerations on my antibrachium showed no demand for immediate medical attention, so we skedaddled. We wandered around in the desert, not able to find our way out. We climbed a mountain to regain our bearings, and slogged through cynobacterial mats from a playa, passing through an Ordovician-age uplifted reef before we found the trail back up here to Rexburg. Its rough out there man.”

           
Poor Dylan just looked as if I had swung a gridiron in his face. “ugh…what?”

           
“Got some nice scrapes on my arm while digging for trilobite fossils. You take out pieces of shale and split 'em open, revealing the trilobites. And so I decided to try looking in a new area, and climbed up the face of the rock about ten feet. When I was up there, I got more excited about fossils than about keeping my footing, and kind of remembered the importance of it when it was too late. So I kinda had to jump out from the rock face with a 25 lb. hunk of shale at ten feet and, yeah…my arm’s not feeling real red hot.”

           
Dylan pondered this new development in his case Futon vs. Rocks, and must have come to some conclusion, though he declined on sharing me the details of the outcome. Couldn’t blame him. Had I found out earlier that evening that I was out of Peanut Butter Capt’n Crunch cereal, I too would be disinclined to publicize the results of my findings. 

           
“So no dino poo?” Dylan was a rather persistent individual.

           
“Fraid not son,” I answered “One of these days, you and me, we’ll go out and beat around the brush, and someday, maybe someday, we’ll find some of this stuff for you.”

           
“Yeah, cause then I could have some DINO POO!”

I sighed and looked at the clock. It was past my bedtime.

Intro | Really Random Writings

Cody MacCabe, at your service

So....not sure if college-age guys are supposed to admit this or not, but I will anyway. I love writing. It may be because my mom was an English major. Or perhaps because I grew up loving to read. When I was little, my problem wasn't spending my childhood in front of the T.V. playing video games. I often got in trouble for neglecting my chores because I would sneak off with a good book. Whatever the case, I love to read and write. So, I thought I'd give myself another excuse to write, and start a blog for random writings. I really enjoy using my goofy sense of humor, but I have a serious side to writing as well.  Some might be old English assignments, or simply insights into life. There might be a commentary on problems I see, or something to give you a laugh. There probably won't be a rhyme or reason, and there will probably be a few pictures to boot. Be that as it may, I still hope someone out there is able to gain something from a bunch of really random writings.