Singing Above My Vocal Cords

Back when I stilled worked in the insurance industry, I did quite a bit of public speaking - mostly continuing education classes about insurance coverage for property/casualty agents. Generally this meant traveling in the upper Midwest during the winter, and on one memorable trip involved losing my voice.

I had been suffering from a cold and was a little hoarse at the start of the trip. After two days of talking virtually nonstop for 6 hours each session, my voice failed. We cancelled the third speaking engagement, and after two days of rest and making my wishes known in writing, I was (barely) able to finish the fourth class before my voice checked out again for an entire week.

After yesterday's lesson with my new voice teacher, I now know what I was doing wrong. In the past, whenever I've started to get a little hoarse, I've tried to power through by speaking in a lower voice and a little more loudly. Apparently this puts a lot of tension and stress on the vocal cords, and makes a bad situation much worse.

This week I took my Dad to a walk-in clinic for tests and came home with a 48-hour stomach bug, which was not so bad in itself, but set off a nasty asthma episode. After several days of hard coughing I went to my voice lesson with a hoarse singing voice and a plea for help. Patti, my teacher, did not fail me.

All of the warmup exercises we did were designed to keep stress out of the throat and tension off the vocal cords. When I was finally ready to sing, she told me to visualize "keeping your voice as far away from your vocal cords as possible." Well, that sounds pretty weird, but in general I've been learning to sing so that my voice resonates in my head spaces instead of coming from the back of my throat, so this was more of the same, and it worked really well. In the past an hour of singing with a hoarse throat would have killed my voice completely; after yesterday's lesson my throat actually felt better instead of worse.

 I am so glad that I decided to look for a teacher specializing in problem voices; as in most areas of life, learning from a real expert pays off in many ways. I am learning to sing better, but also to breathe correctly and keep my throat healthy. Amazing!

"Crying is really bad for your vocal cords." ~Adele

"It's Not My Fault"

Today is the last day of the winter break for the school where I teach online classes, but it hasn't been much of a break for me.  This particular group of students includes several "not-my-faulters."  I usually get one or two per class, but this session is rife with them, and they haven't left me alone during the holidays.

The course syllabus and policies clearly spell out their general responsibilities and the specifics of each assignment, but the "not-my-faulters" are always shocked and amazed that I enforce the written policies and grade according to the printed rubrics.  Submitted a blank paper or the wrong assignment?  Left out half the assigned work?  Copied code from the Internet without citing the source?  "Yes, but it wasn't my fault!"  Oh, the homework brownies did it for you?  Give me a break.  "If you just call me, I can explain."  No, you can't.  Your power/Internet connection went down, your mother/brother/hamster died, you had a heart attack/went into early labor - that's terrible and I'm sorry for you, but it doesn't mean you should get full credit for missing, incomplete, or plagiarized work.  And BTW, repeatedly whining to me will not change that.  Nor will complaining to the University; they always back me up.  PLEASE complain - I double-dog dare you.  You'll be sorry.

I wouldn't be ranting like this except I am supposed to be preparing these students for life in the workplace, and employers don't accept much short of an incapacitating stroke for missing or substandard work.  I know - as a manager, I was the one who had to write performance improvement plans or fire employees who didn't get that message.  How did these people get to college without learning to take responsibility for their own actions?  What were their parents thinking???

Stuff happens.  We all forget, procrastinate, get sick, get distracted, suffer personal tragedies, screw up.  But when we do, we owe it to ourselves as well as those around us to say, "I'm sorry.  It WAS my fault.  I'll suffer the penalties and try very hard never to do it again."

[UPDATE: Right after I posted this I received a note from one of my other students who had just suffered a devastating loss.  She told me she was withdrawing from class because she knew that she would be unable to focus for the next few weeks, but would re-enroll in the near future and finish up her degree.  No whining, pleading, or excuses - just pulling up her socks and getting on with things.  She and the others like her are the students who keep me teaching.]

"You must take personal responsibility. You cannot change the circumstances, the seasons, or the wind, but you can change yourself. That is something you have charge of." ~Jim Rohn

A Dying Art

Earlier this week ABC News ran an item on the death of cursive writing. Apparently 41 of the 50 states no longer require children to learn to read and write cursive; those lessons have been "quietly" replaced by lessons in keyboarding.  Feelings run high on both sides of this debate.  Proponents of cursive think its elimination is the first step in a speedy slide into barbarism.  Those in favor of eliminating it simply believe it's no longer necessary. 

I have mixed feelings about this.  On the one hand, most cursive is easier to read than printing and at its best it is a beautiful, elegant art form.  On the other hand, the vast majority of us no longer write long documents by hand.  What would be lost if we printed our greeting cards and shopping lists?  Sure, we'd lose all those illegible prescriptions and the science of handwriting analysis, but would that be so bad?  Even our cursive signatures could be replaced by fancy printing, electronic signatures, or fingerprints.  After all, Xs used to be accepted as legal signatures for the illiterate, and I've been electronically signing the documents related to the sale of our house.  Cursive is time-consuming and difficult to learn, especially for those of us who are left-handed.  Why not skip it?

To the woman ABC interviewed who stated she will fight to retain cursive so that her children can read the letters from their grandparents: it's a losing battle, honey.  Even if you teach your kids cursive, they won't use it when writing to their grandchildren.  Who knows - by then keyboarding may be obsolete and everyone communicating via telepathy.

If your handwriting is barely legible, it makes them think that you are not really an organized person. That you are writing too fast, and you are not thinking about it. ~ Adam Levinson

All This and a Raise In September - YAY!!

Today is a good day, a fine day, an excellent day.  Today I received the students' evaluations from the last programming class I taught.

Not every student completed an evaluation, but when asked to rate "How likely are you to recommend this instructor to other students?," all those who did gave me 10 out of 10 possible points.  Two went further and wrote compliments in the Comments box.  One gave me the nicest tribute I've yet received:

"Best instructor in all of my classes. Insightful, helpful, encouraging and responsible. "

In the faculty forum at the online University where I teach, we often joke about students' references to TOI (The Other Teacher) - the instructor who accepts late work without penalty, overlooks grammar problems, and gives everyone an A.  I am not TOI; I try my best to follow all University policies and I believe I grade fairly but strictly.  On the other hand, I truly want students to learn the material in my classes; I continually refine the syllabus and other course materials to eliminate ambiguities and I will spend whatever time is necessary coaching those who have problems.

This is the teacher I want to be:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0xuFnP5N2uA&feature=related

On days like today I think I may finally be getting close.

I like a teacher who gives you something to take home to think about besides homework.  ~Lily Tomlin as "Edith Ann"

Hooray for Sunday

I don't say enough good things in these posts about Barry, but I deeply appreciate him every Sunday morning.

Sunday is the day I have to post all the study materials for the upcoming week in my online classrooms.  It's also the day I finish grading any of the students' midweek assignments; since a couple of them every session have tardiness issues, virtually every Sunday has at least a few items waiting for me.

I get up somewhere between half an hour and an hour and a half before Barry does.  Sometimes I fix myself a cup of coffee or tea first, but usually I dive right into the schoolwork.  By the time Barry rises I've made substantial inroads on my workload and I'm ready for breakfast (or, depending on how late we slept in, brunch), and Barry obligingly serves it.

Barry is a good cook but doesn't enjoy cooking, so his willingness to make breakfast for me every Sunday morning is very endearing, and he's been trying to stick to our resolve to eat right.  Sometimes he makes hot cereal or whole-grain waffles.  Today he scrambled eggs with fresh mushrooms and served them over half an "everything" bagel thin, with half a grapefruit picked yesterday (from my parents' tree) on the side.  Good stuff.  Just what I needed to get me over the hump of grading the last few final projects awaiting my attention.

I love Sundays.  And Barry.

"There is no spectacle on earth more appealing than that of a beautiful woman in the act of cooking dinner for someone she loves." ~ Alice Adams [but the spectacle of a handsome man in the act of cooking breakfast for someone he loves is right up there!]

Slogging Through the Blog

This update is brought to you by the words "ennui" and "phlegm."

Reveille: For the last two mornings, the cat has not whined for breakfast; she's gagged.  You know, that horrible, hacking, "I'm about to throw a hairball" sound?  In my ear.  Before dawn.  Time to see the vet.

The cold: My other symptoms are all gone, but I have some lingering chest congestion.  The cat is probably complaining in her kitty blog about her owner's horrible, hacking, "I'm about to throw a hairball" cough.  At least Barry believes I'm past contagion and is abandoning the futon tonight.

The grading: I'm working my way through the final projects from my last two classes and some of them are amazing.  Unfortunately, I can't tell by looking at a couple of the others that the students even took the course I teach.  In my experience, this means they've spent the semester buying completed assignments online or copying from friends, and when they finally had to produce original work - surprise! - they hadn't learned enough to do so.  Discouraging.  Pause to beat head against wall.

The dancing: We have one final dinner dance tonight to wrap up the Valentine's Day celebrations.  I'm always leery about dinner dances: if we eat too much we're too sluggish to enjoy the dancing.  At least I've learned to wear dark colors in case I accidentally flip part of the entree into my lap.

Family: Today is my mother's birthday.  My sister and I are taking her and Dad out to dinner this weekend to celebrate.  I offered to make the cake.  I only hope everyone will be willing to eat it after realizing that I have hairballs.


"My dear doctor, I am surprised to hear you say that I am coughing very badly, as I have been practising all night." ~John Philpot Curran 

Making the Grade(s)

Two of the Web Systems classes I teach are ending on Sunday.  That's the day the students should be handing in their final projects - complete websites built with quite a bit of JavaScript.  Grading their final projects can be a hair-raising experience because I need to finish within a week, but I always look forward to them anyway.

One or two students will probably do the bare minimum (or a little less), building strictly utilitarian sites with two or three pages.  Those are easy to grade because I have no difficulty seeing whether they included all the elements required by the assignment.  On the other hand, a few students always turn in designs that are completely over the top, full of stunning visuals and complicated code.  Some of them are very talented graphic artists; others have been IT professionals for years and could probably teach the class better than I do.  Those projects are much more difficult to evaluate but they're also much more fun.  I'm always awed by their creativity.

Some of the students build sites for their families, their hobbies or their businesses.  Others set up sites for a friend, their church, or a deserving charity.  I've seen a stunning portfolio for an online comic book artist, a quirky Renaissance Faire-themed site, and an online ordering facility for a seafood restaurant, complete with photos that made me ravenous.  This time I have an extremely varied group of pupils; I can hardly wait to see what they come up with.  I'm going to consider their websites as a veritable wealth of Valentine's Day presents, just for me.

"Home computers are being called upon to perform many new functions, including the consumption of homework formerly eaten by the dog."  ~Doug Larson

Looking for Mr. Goodstudent

For the past couple of years I've been a part-time instructor for an online university.  I usually teach two classes at a time, staggered - one group of students will be in Week 4, for instance, while the other is in Week 8.  Today I'm pretty excited because I have a new session starting tomorrow.

Teaching online in an entirely asynchronous environment can be very odd.  At the start of each session I only know the students' names and what they choose to reveal about themselves in their biography posts.  I learn more about them throughout the course, but I never see their faces.  This leaves me free to fantasize.

I don't mean that in a creepy, stalker-like way.  I just occasionally have fun envisioning faces and backstories.  Some of the students who hand in the bare minimum for each assignment and don't engage in the class discussions come across as faceless automatons, while others have such distinct personalities (for good or ill) that I can't help seeing them as Mr. Incredible or Dr. Doom.  Among the non-traditional students I've met so far have been a woman with 10 children and two jobs (The Mighty Multi-tasker), an explosives expert stationed in Iraq (Da Bomb), and a Hawaiian girl who works with and wrote an awesome paper on dolphin conservation (Eco-Warrior).  Occasionally I also encounter The Excuse Mill or Missing in Action, but the vast majority of my students have been hard-working, upbeat people focused on improving their lives and the lives of their children.  Wonder Women far outnumber the Wonder Whiners in my classes.

So, tomorrow I'll be reading another new batch of bios.  Who will I get to meet this time - Shrinking Violet and The Invisible Man, or The Webslinger and The Princess of Persuasion?  Only time will tell.

“It is important that students bring a certain ragamuffin, barefoot irreverence to their studies; they are not here to worship what is known, but to question it.”

 Jacob Chanowski