I honestly, truthfully have no idea how to handle this — partly because, I mean, holy shit, you really want to defend racism and white pride in my class? I’m also kind of pissed because he clearly didn’t listen or think about anything anyone but he said in the previous class conversation about “white people pride.” But mostly, I want to figure out how to actually teach him to open his mind to ways of thinking he’s currently closed to. And I don’t have any fucking clue how to do that on a topic like this.

Here’s the thing: I could shut him down and say, “No, that’s not an appropriate topic.” And what exactly is that going to do? Is that going to open his eyes to the fact that, oh yeah, racism is bad? No. Shutting down a conversation just allows racism to fester, hidden away.

Yet if I allow him to research this, how can I do it in a way that opens his eyes to truly understand the issue — in a way that doesn’t just allow him to reinforce what he already believes?

– That would be easy, you’d think, after I tell you that when I teach “research” writing at the Pen, I do all the research for my students because, by the by, they have no access to a library or inter-library loans. So I control what information they get. Voila!, right? Just give him the stuff I want him to read?

Yeah, no. That will be totally transparent to him. These guys aren’t dumb. He knows there’s plenty of information out there that he wants to read, and I know that it isn’t what I want him to read. So I imagine it’ll go something like this: I’ll talk to him about doing honest research and keeping an open mind, learning to recognize biased sources and twisted logic and all that. He’ll realize he has two choices: to write a paper I want to read, or write a paper I’ll give him an F on, and then he gets to take this class again next quarter. (Remind me who teaches this class? Oh, right. Me.) If he’s lucky, he might open his mind and write an honest, thoughtful paper reexamining and reassessing his beliefs. I just need to figure out how to tweak the circumstances in order to have the best chance at arriving at that “lucky” result. But how?

And now, with due respect to O. Henry, I offer my twist:

This is precisely what sucks about being an adjunct. If I were teaching on a campus and had connections and colleagues to consult about this kind of thing, or if I’d heard about how others deal with it in staff meetings with other instructors in the same boat or at professional conferences or in the literature available to me as a result of my being a real member of the faculty, I would be far better prepared to deal with it. But I’m an adjunct. I have no office (for my job teaching at the Pen, anyway), no colleagues (other than the people I walk into and out of the building with), no funding for attending conferences or subscribing to journals about this. I should research it on my own time, but I teach fucking writing classes and there is no such thing as “my own time.”

America, this is our education system. And providing an education to incarcerated students is one of the few things actually likely to reduce their chances of recidivism (thus saving taxpayer dollars by preventing them from going back to prison…you’re welcome). Our education system and our capitalist system mean that adjuncts like me are hired because we are cheap labor: crap wages, no benefits. And we are insufficiently equipped and supported for situations like this. If I don’t do well in the case of this student, I suspect I could end up having a huge negative effect on this guy’s life — not to mention his recidivism chances.

I bet there are adjuncts out there who would actually know what to do in this situation, either because they’ve handled it or because they’ve studied it. I haven’t handled a situation as bold as this, and I certainly didn’t do my M.A. on “How to Teach Racists They’re Wrong.” I did study enough about race relations to know that this is an insidious, illogical brain problem, and as we see daily in American politics, rational thought, facts, and information rarely touch people whose minds are so closed. So I know the basics. But this is by far the most challenging situation I’ve found myself in: because it’s racism, it’s the penitentiary, it’s something that I know to my very core is wrong and he believes, probably to his very core, is right.

Yet that’s my job. I’m going to do it. I just wish I knew how to do it best.

“It’s okay, you can say it,” one of the white students said. There’s no hiding in this class.

“Well, what do you prefer?” I asked the black student whose audience was in question. “Black or African-American?”

“Doesn’t matter to me,” he said. “Only old people care about that stuff.”

This led us into the rabbithole of rhetoric and political correctness, and eventually one white student wondered why there is a black caucus and a Hispanic caucus (there is?) but no white caucus in Congress. “Like, why can’t we have white people pride?” he asked.

I’m sure I have complained in the past about students wondering why there’s no “white people history month,” etc., but at times like this class discussion tonight, I remember that this question presents itself anew to each student, each person, each generation. And as the Trayvon Martin case has shown, Americans are very bad at talking about race. Just, awful. Horrible. So it is, but shouldn’t be, a surprise to those of us who have these difficult conversations that they arise with each new batch of students. (You’d think that would keep me from fumbling and bumbling my way through it by this point; alas.)

Me: You know, I once had a student write a really good paper about Tupac and…

Student: It’s “too-pock.”

Me: Not “two-pack”? Like…six-pack?

Student: No.

Me: Oh. Sorry, I’m just really white.

Student: That’s okay.

Me: …Anyway, you said you’re also interested in Seattle, and music, so why not write about the grunge movement? It started in Seattle.

Student: What’s grunge?

Generally, I like to think that though I have little power and agency, I can do small things to make the world a little better. I can introduce students to ideas they didn’t know about, I can try to get my crazy-ass relatives to understand that liberals aren’t as evil as we seem, and I can breed cute little bulldogs (still one for sale!). Occasionally, I even take a foray into worldwide human rights issues. Whoops. Silly me. Here’s what happened this week.

1. Invisible Children decided to raise awareness and money for itself and the work it does, with the goal of getting rid of a horrible human being who has ruined tens of thousands of lives. It put together a video and, through its remarkable marketing efforts, that video went viral. I was apparently the second-to-last person to see it, which makes me feel like we’re in high school all over again and I’m the last one to find out there’s a kick-me sign taped to my back; anyway, I reposted it. I thought the video was powerful, though I recognized the part with the kid as a base attempt at cultivating pathos. Still, I didn’t know who Kony was or that he was No. 1 on the list of international war criminals. What a great effort, I thought. We’ll call that “Tuesday.” It may in fact have been Wednesday because, well, kick me sign and everything, but whatever.

2. The next day, the entire Internet lashed out against Invisible Children, proclaiming its video to be propaganda and its methods manipulative and unhelpful. Anyone who had learned something from the video was made to feel stupid by a lot of smug assholes sitting on their hands doing nothing but smug assholiness, proffering no suggestions, just endless condemnation of sheep and sheepiness and the unwashed, unlearnt masses. We’ll call that “Wednesday.”

3. The next day, the entire Internet erupted in a case of kumbaya, trying to find middle ground: Maybe IC stretched the facts, maybe they needed transparency, maybe they’re pursuing the wrong method, but gosh darn it, folks, aren’t they effective? Didn’t they raise awareness? Isn’t that worth something? Okay, just a little bit? Anything? …We’ll call that “Thursday.”

Well fuck all, but I am tired. I am tired of getting my hopes up that the world is getting better, that people are sitting up and taking notice of atrocities and doing something about it, and I’m tired of having that rug pulled out from under us. Nothing is worth doing anymore because it’s not the right people doing it, or using the right methods, or giving you the right information. This is the message we’re told by millions of people calling us stupid and ignorant.

And they’re right. Or partly right: I didn’t do my due diligence. I didn’t check the charity’s transparency, didn’t fact-check their claims, didn’t research whether that was the right method.

Because you know what? I CAN ONLY DO SO MUCH. I’m sorry that I trusted this charity, and I’m even sorrier that the lesson from it that I and millions of others are learning right now is that, hey, you, over there, with the hopes, dreams, and aspirations of making the world better? POP. There’s your balloon. The world sucks. You can’t change it, so why bother. Come sit on your thumbs like us. Let’s judge people, correct them, sometimes even in very kind and condescending ways, but let’s not offer any alternatives or suggestions.

Everything is so fucking futile.

The main idea
So here’s the idea I had today. After I put enough thought into the class in order to devise a pedagogical justification for it, I would divide the class into two, or maybe three if we’re feeling generous, political parties and ask students in each group to collaboratively come up with a figure they would like to see elected president. What positions, issues, background, education, experience, etc. would they want to see in their elected official?

But where it gets interesting would be to ask them to weigh idealism with pragmatism: what do they wish to see, but what would they be willing to accommodate — or, heaven forbid, actually compromise on — in order for the candidate to be electable?

Collaboration
I think the collaborative part of this assignment is the best part because students will have to grapple with the way idealism and cynicism collide when it comes to politics, and to me that is one of the toughest things to figure out: what is sacred, what is necessary, what is effective — and what isn’t. Groups, to me, are the best place to tussle with these issues because there is real dialogue, as opposed to what you often see and read.

Even better, students would have to dig deeply into issues that we encounter every day, but there’d be little room — if devised correctly — for them to keep to shallow preconceptions. Especially in a group. At the very least, they’d have to consider candidates’ stances on abortion, immigration, the environment, energy, entitlements, defense spending, education, crime, poverty, jobs — I could go on.

Breaking it down
I suppose that if I did this assignment over a quarter, there would be three main writing assignments. First, students could do early, individual papers on those issues mentioned above that they in turn share with the group at large as it collaborates on creating its ideal candidate. Students would need to be well informed on the issues in order to decide how to position their candidate, so if each student (approx. 13 students per group, so 13 issues covered) researches and writes a paper laying out the national conversation on, say, abortion, and presents the various sides of the debate, the group could use that paper — and each of the 13 papers — to become better informed as they make their choices.

The second assignment would be the collaborative, and hopefully creative and multimodal, presentation of their ideal candidate. Would they have a man or woman, old or young, conservative or liberal; would the candidate be a member of a minority group; what experience, background, and qualifications would help this candidate succeed; and most of all, what positions would this candidate take, and what positions would s/he be willing to compromise on in order to be elected? Students could actually create a candidate (like a doll, or an image), and would turn in a collaborative paper and/or portfolio laying out the stances on important issues this candidate takes. Perhaps a student in the group could even play the role of the candidate and give a speech in class. Students could design campaign ads and bumper stickers (using rhetorical moves learned in class) to include in the portfolio….

One of the troubles with this assignment is that students may disagree with the group in terms of what stance they believe their candidate should take. For example, a student may be ardently anti-abortion and have qualms over collaborating in a group with a pro-choice candidate. This final writing assignment is where the student reflects on the process whereby the group arrived at its candidate, and, if s/he felt it necessary, explain his/her position(s) that deviate(s) from the group. I would probably also have students talk about what they learned about rhetoric and persuasion. It is not my mission indoctrinate my students into my political beliefs; it is my mission to have students carefully consider issues and write about them thoughtfully. And there is no field better suited to the study of rhetoric than politics.

Optional activities and assignments:

• Political debate between the two (or three) candidates
• Class (or wider) election
• Research opportunities including surveys and focus groups
• Students could make new parties rather than keeping the traditional Democrat/Republican model

Constraints
Here are my current constraints, and there are many more I haven’t even had time to consider:

• I will teach ENGL 122, which is essentially argumentation. …This curriculum seems well suited toward argumentation, actually — I kept thinking of obstacles but they seem surmountable. But is it fair to ask all my students — a couple of whom are not even U.S. citizens — to spend all quarter on a political theme? Especially in a world already supersaturated with campaigns — although isn’t understanding that world part of what an education is about? Plus the inclusion of rhetorical analysis is well suited to political rhetoric….
• I also teach similar classes in a penitentiary where my students’ do not currently have (and for some, will never have) the right to vote, so this curriculum would be useless there.
• The amount of time the collaborative part of this project would take seems prohibitive. I could easily see two or three weeks of the quarter disappearing down a rabbit hole while students self-democratize to get the collaborative part done. We might need an online (or Google Docs) forum for students to collaborate in their own time.
• Honestly, are traditionally aged college freshman going to be interested enough to keep up a full head of steam on this project for an entire quarter?

Oakland at Denver: predicted Denver. Wrong.
Cincinnati at Denver: Predicted Cincinnati. Wrong.
@Tennessee: Predicted Denver. Wrong.
@Green Bay: Predicted Green Bay. Correct.
San Diego at Denver: Predicted San Diego. Correct.
Bye
@Miami: Predicted Denver win. Correct.
Detroit: Predicted Denver win. Wrong.
@Oakland: Predicted Denver win. Correct.
@Kansas City: Predicted Denver loss. Wrong.
New York Jets at Denver: Predicted Denver loss. Wrong.
@San Diego: Predicted Denver loss. Wrong.
@Minnesota: Predicted Denver win. Correct.
Chicago at Denver: Predicted Denver loss. Wrong.
New England at Denver: Predicted Denver loss. Correct.
@Buffalo: Predicted Denver win. Wrong.
Kansas City at Denver: Predicted Denver win. Wrong.

I was correct 6/16. Worse score I’ve ever gotten, I think.

The one thing I did predict? An 8-8 record. The thing I didn’t predict: Denver going to the playoffs. Nor did I predict Denver, San Diego, and Oakland all having an 8-8 record with KC only a game behind, nor did I predict Tebow’s six-game winning streak, then three-game collapse.

There are worse things than spending an unexpected night in Honolulu, I must say. I just wish we were (1) not at an airport hotel and well out of walking distance of, like, anything, and (2) that it were not raining, which makes No. 1 totally null. However, the boy was awesome today. What a trouper. And my in-laws are awesome, and my husband is awesome, and my Toms shoes are awesome except when you’re running a mile between the United and Hawaiian air terminals, twice, with three bags and a stroller.

Anyway. Today, November 19, 2011, is the day we attempted to get my poor dog knocked up. I wasn’t there for it, but I’m told there was all kinds of weird stuff going on in the room: parts were massaged, positions were tried, things were injected into places.

And honestly, I feel like a sell-out. I worked at a humane society a long time back — I know how hard it is to get dogs adopted out. I know how much it sucks to see animals die because people are jerks. And I guess I’m one of the jerks bringing more unnecessary dogs into the world.

Except.

Except — ugh. I really want there to be an except, so I’ll make one: Except the dogs I’m responsible for bringing into the world won’t be unloved or unwanted. They’ll go to homes that are well vetted (by me, personally); they’ll be taken by people who can afford to pay not only for the dogs, but for the sometimes expensive care that ownership entails.

Except.

The people who buy these dogs wouldn’t be going to a humane society, anyway.

Except.

I love this breed: I love their energy, enthusiasm, curiosity, their contentment and love and slobbers and wrinkles. I love the way they breathe and snort and run out of energy at inopportune times and you have to carry them halfway down Tomer Butte and another mile up to your house, all fifty pounds of him, his slobbery mug resting on your shoulder. That’s a bulldog. They’re funny and loving, great with kids, not territorial, they don’t bark, they don’t bite, they don’t need long walks every day (though that’s fine, too); they just want love. And did I mention the wrinkles and cuddles and exuberance.

So, there. There’s my rationale. It’s flimsy and it sucks, and yes, part of why I’m doing this is for profit. And to pay the expenses of breeding and potential C-section, and to ensure the dogs go to homes that can afford them. But really, I love this kind of dog. And I love my Lucy, and Julius and Cleo before her, and Theo before them, and Angus before him. I’ve loved these dogs all my life and I hope that maybe other people can get that experience, too.

While on the one hand I look forward to going back to work, the challenge of, say, taking a shower before 9 a.m. does seem rather daunting. I wonder how ever shall I do it.

Too bad I have no problem taking care of these piles by putting them back exactly where he found them.

(In marriage counseling, this blog post will be logged into evidence as Exhibit 1.)

And in other marriage-related news, Lucy has literally gone off to a nice farm in the country to spend Thanksgiving: she’s staying with my parents on their acreage for a few weeks, and if she gets lucky, there will be an arranged conjugal visit with a local bulldog stud. If she’s not lucky, one of the neighbor’s miniature donkeys will take a shine to her and we’ll end up with a litter of bullonkeys.

HE’S SO GODDAMN SMUG ABOUT IT. Yes, Dear. You worked all day while I did some mild housecleaning and am now spending the waning hours watching football. No, Dear, I DO NOT WANT TO SORT OUT MY PILES OF JUNK. Also they’re already sorted. INTO PILES.

(Ah, well.)

According to the Tax Policy Center, there are 151 million tax units (singles, couples, families) in the U.S., of which around 48% do not pay individual income tax. About 60% of those people make under $20,000 a year, which is below the poverty level (and also awful and sad). By my calculations — and I am no mathematician — this means there are around 44 million tax units not paying federal income taxes, the majority of whom cannot really afford to.

And here’s where you take away my liberal card.

I call bullshit: fixed income or not, poverty or not, I think every household can save a few cents a month and pay some federal taxes. If every tax unit saved $0.83 per month, which is to say that they paid $10 per year in income tax, that would add at least $440 million to the federal budget (hopefully more; the 40% making above poverty level might be able to contribute $1 per month, say). Sure, when the U.S. budget is projected to be $3.729 trillion in 2012, this is the tiniest fraction (.001 percent, right? again, not a math person) of the budget. But this amount of income does two things:

First of all, it gives everyone ownership of what happens in America. It means if you have income, your tax dollars — or cents, as it may be — aren’t just going to entitlement programs like SS and Medicare; it means they’re going to defense, environmental protection, emergency funding, world aid, etc. So if you didn’t pay taxes before and felt like you had no say in where your dollars were spent because your dollars weren’t spent, now you have no excuse. No longer do you have to feel inadequate when your GOP representative denigrates your income class to the country; now you can stand up and say, “Hey, shut up. I pay taxes too, though I can little afford it. This is my country and I’m giving and taking like everyone else.” Maybe it would even compel some people, who may have felt unworthy of voting before, to get out and vote.

Second, and most important, it would make the right-wingers STFU about how 50 percent of Americans pay no taxes. Hell, even crazy right-wing tea-nut Michele Bachmann has said that a dollar would be good enough for her, so let’s add an order of magnitude and take away a huge Republican talking point.

Best of all, once everyone who produces income is paying taxes, the GOP’s message that it’s okay to increase taxes on the poor but not the rich is severely undermined.

Caveat: Here’s what I don’t know: I don’t know how much it costs the Internal Revenue Service to review each tax statement. Maybe there’s a negative ROI on paying such low taxes, though the liberal in me would love to see the rhetorical knots Republicans twist themselves into explaining why it’s bad for poor people to pay taxes. I also don’t know exactly how to address income vs. capital gains, as well as people receiving Social Security. So this argument is incomplete with parts that I’m not prepared to deal with. (Work in progress, people. Work in progress.)

Yet while I hate to see the working class get nickel-and-dimed more (literally, in my projection), provided that the cost of processing these returns doesn’t make it negative, I think it’s well worth the cost of ownership of the country.

Suck it, Red.

I have almost nothing to say. It’s election day, one best spent in bed on a deserted island with a book and no internet. Unfortunately that is not how I spent it, and now I’m medicating with Haggen-Dazs and will resume Game of Thrones, the book, shortly.

Nap, you say. Well then Chelsey has time to write, doesn’t she. While he naps.

Yes. I thought so too. I opened my laptop, the document I’m working on, all nine sources I’m using, and wrote a paragraph. ONE WHOLE PARAGRAPH. And then the Boy Who Barely Slept awoke. This was repeated twice throughout the day. Otherwise, if I tried to work on it while he was playing with his toys, he’d invariably fall, or bonk his head, or try to do dental work on the dog who is generally quite long-suffering but has her limits.

This is why freelance writing and stay-at-home-motherhood are incompatible. If I had childcare or even a child who napped in long, solid blocks — which, I believe, are a myth visited upon us by sadistic writers of sleep-training manuals — then yeah, I’d be productive. As it is, I have to wait for a break, which comes in the evening when the husband gets home, but first we have dinner, and then I leave to write, but I have to be back within an hour and a half for Cranky Genius Bedtime (still nursing), and by the time the Bedtime Ordeal is over and the little Evil Genius is in bed, yea, asleep, well by then it’s almost eight o’clock and I’ve been up since five-something and the words go onto the page, but when I see them again in the light of the next day, I know there’s no way in hell my editor wants to see this linguistic concoction.

So that’s how the freelance thing is going.