Archive for January, 2009
Road Runner Song
Posted by Michael Livingston in Homelife on January 31st, 2009
I’m grading today. Morning ’til night. So in lieu of anything of profound importance, I offer up this proof to doubters (you know who you are) that the “Road Runner Song” I occasionally sing is, in fact, quite real:
Done with the Weeks
Posted by Michael Livingston in Academics, Homelife on January 30th, 2009
I’ve been sporadic around here for a bit, which I regret. It’s simply been atrociously busy hereabouts. We’ve been interviewing candidates for an open position in the English Department (18th century specialist), and that’s been taking up a lot of time. On top of that, the Hobbit and Wife have been sick. And I’ve been building a swing-set in the backyard. And I’ve been reading and editing for Paper Golem’s next book. And I’ve been grading. And I’ve been sending manuscript images to Cambridge for the Middle English Texts Series. And I’ve been working on the Brunanburh book. And I’ve been teaching. And…
Well, it’s done with now. Until tomorrow. Two stacks of papers to hit then.
Citadel Basketball
Posted by Michael Livingston in Homelife on January 24th, 2009
Went to the Citadel basketball game this afternoon, in which the Bulldogs pounded their cross-town rivals: the College of Charleston Cougars, 72-63. It was a great, loud game — all the better for the cadet victory.
Tolkien Article Accepted
Posted by Michael Livingston in Academics on January 23rd, 2009
Yesterday brought news that I’ve had another Tolkien article accepted for publication. This one was co-written by one of my very good friends: A. Keith Kelly, an Assistant Professor at Kutztown University, who specializes in Old English and Old Norse. Keith’s a terrific fellow medievalist who I met at the Medieval Institute in the course of earning my first M.A. degree. A good man of the West, he taught me fly-fishing, and we shared many a great day fighting mighty fish in the waters of Michigan. That’s Keith there in the picture, wrestling one of the beasts found on the end of our lines. (There are other, more “interesting” pictures I could produce, but I don’t know that he’d forgive me.)
Keith and I finished our Ph.D. degrees the same year, and we roomed together three winters ago in Washington, DC for the annual MLA Convention (which doubles as a cattle-call for folks wanting jobs in English). Keith interviewed for a few jobs, including the one he took at Kutztown. I had a few, too, including one for The Citadel. Anyway, one evening, over some hefty pints of good ale at a local pub/bar, we chatted about some Tolkien things that had been on our minds, and we were astonished at how closely our thoughts were meshing.
The result of our Tolkien mindmeld, after a few back and forth drafts, is “‘A Far Green Country’: Tolkien, Paradise, and the End of All Things in Medieval Literature,” which has now been accepted for publication at Mythlore. It should appear in the Spring 2009 issue.
Did You Know? 4.0
Posted by Michael Livingston in Teaching on January 22nd, 2009
I’ve mentioned previously my love of the Shift Happens 2.0 clip on YouTube. Well, it’s been updated to what’s being called “4.0″:
I still think this is the simplest, most concise statement about the importance of critical thinking, which is what I’m ultimately teaching in my classes. After all, critical thinking is about the only thing that technology is not scheduled to do better than we do.
Odd Student Feedback
Posted by Michael Livingston in Academics on January 21st, 2009
Reading student evaluations is never a fun process for me. I am, by nature, someone who shakes off positive feedback in order to focus like a hawk on anything negative (of which there are, thankfully, usually not many).
This weekend I was going over my course evaluations from this past fall. For the most part, the comments from the students were glowing but unspecific. “Great teacher.” “Enthusiastic.” “Liked his unique style.” “Awesome professor.” Etc. There were the usual complaints about “too early in the morning,” of course, which don’t really reflect on me, and the one negative about me personally was not — I don’t think — serious: “Dr. Livingston’s glare off of his bald head really makes it difficult to concentrate.”
I breathed a sigh of relief.
But then I wondered if perhaps they just weren’t being forthcoming in their negative feelings. The evaluations are anonymous, but maybe they nevertheless worried about being honest in such a forum. So, I checked out ratemyprofessors.com, which is always a hotbed of malcontent.
Nothing much there, I was surprised to see. And the one recent comment that was there was this:
100% MAN. This guy is the epitome of what a professor should be. He insults you, proves you wrong, will throw a war axe at you, but will never lead you astray. An excellent teacher overall. Show up to class, read the text, and have a good thesis and you’ll not only get a B – A but you’ll learn something too.
I’m slightly annoyed by the implication that it’s so easy to get a good grade — though, frankly, “have a good thesis” is not nearly as simple as it sounds — but mostly I’m heartened by the comment, which strikes me as fair in its details. That said, I’m still trying to analyze exactly what that “100% MAN” is supposed to mean — and what on earth it has to do with my teaching.
President Obama
Posted by Michael Livingston in Homelife on January 20th, 2009
I spent much of the day entranced by the inauguration. I’m sure I wasn’t alone. I’ve seen a few inaugurations now, and I confess that I felt, well, a little emotional to witness what happened today.
True, I voted for our new President, and I cannot deny the sweeping feeling of vicarious emotion that one gets when you’ve been a part (however sliveringly small) of such a movement. Strangely, that part of my emotional response was not unlike the feeling I got when John Elway lifted the Lombardi trophy (go Broncos!).
Nevertheless, I think I’m objective enough to say that more than mere “victory lap” emotion clouded my eyes this morning. Indeed, I think I can even lay aside the obvious and undeniable emotion that anyone with a shred of a sense of history had to feel to see Obama stand up and take the oath of office. (Heck, even former — phew! — President Bush was not unaware of the history, himself commenting on how jarring it is to contemplate that the foundation of the Obamas new home was laid by slaves.)
Yes, I was moved by such things. But even more than all that I was moved by how our beloved country once again concluded a peaceful transition of power. In the face of all the hatred and terror around the world, the leader of the United States of America, our perfectly imperfect experiment of human governance, willingly gave up his power and handed if off, without threat of malice or hint of ire, to another. More than that, Bush handed it off to someone who will, as soon as he is able, undo much of what Bush fought so long and hard to accomplish.
It is, in a word, extraordinary.
Reflect on it, if you will:
After Justice Roberts did his best to embarrass us all by bungling the oath of office, Obama executed the Constitutional instructions and became the next president of the United States. The crowd went into an understandable roar. Hands were shaken around the dais. And quietly, unnoticed in all the hubbub, a single man with a leather-bound briefcase moved purposely from the side of Bush to the side of Obama. No cameras focused on him. No commentators blabbed about what he was doing or what he meant, but in a very real sense that one man’s actions represented everything that is good and right and just about America. The man is a military officer, and in his attache he carries everything that is necessary for the president of the United States to order the launch of more than 1300 nuclear weapons. One minute that power belonged to Bush. The next, a man unobtrusively walked across the stage and gave it to Obama.
Extraordinary.
Fire Department Museum
Posted by Michael Livingston in Homelife on January 15th, 2009
I took the Hobbit to the Charleston Fire Department Museum today. We had a great time checking out the fire trucks and listening to how this is a fire danger and that’s a fire danger and, well, everything is a bloody fire danger.
Still, it was fun. The young master was especially keen on the tube slide they had for wee ones. There’s nothing quite so pleasant as a child’s squeals of joy!
