Kenny Smith | A remarkable thing happens …

Wednesday — No comments
04
Mar 26

Should I put ‘Write book about Want To Do lists’ on such a list?

Today I sent off a rough draft of that packet I’ve been working on. It presently stands at about 30 pages, and so I waited a half hour to check for feedback. Nothing yet. Until I hear back it is perfect. Or terrible. We should also allow for the possibility that it is perfectly terrible.

Anyway, they give you this checklist and you attend a whole bunch of meetings and there are more shared documents than you can possibly be expected to keep in your head. All of this in service to this packet, where you are required to write a narrative about your teaching, including student feedback and your response to that, and peer reviews, and your response to that. Then you write a narrative that discusses the service you’ve done in that time, so committee work and projects and things. And then you write a third narrative about your professional development — so research and presentations and every little other thing you can remember. (Take notes throughout is the lesson.) Above these things are some forms detailing classes, and on top of all of that is a fourth narrative, the executive summary, where you finally realize you’ve actually done quite a bit these last few years, and a long nap, a cup of tea and a peppermint sound pretty good right now, in any order you like.

You’re not getting those things, of course, because there are still all of the appendices to append. There’s the batch of student evals, and the peer feedback, and some other forms that have to do with your original job ad, which is hilarious, and then some paperwork that must get signed and some feedback from your previous review …

By the time I’ve spelled all of that out another 30 minutes have passed, and there’s no feedback. So it is perfect.

Anyway, I’ll think about this until March 16th, when it is due, so just two more weeks. But I can have that nap, and tea, and peppermint.

Except I can’t, because there are slide decks for tomorrow’s classes to finalize, and two presentations next week, and a host of meetings for which I must prepare. That master calendar I made last week was a good idea. So far I’ve not only scratched everything off the list, but I’ve gotten to everything scratched off on time. Score one for To Do lists.

I’ve soured on To Do lists. Sounds rebellious, because I am rebellious. There’s an issue with To Do lists, a notion of responsibility, work demanded. The satisfaction of striking things off the list does not outweigh that.

But the real problem is this: I have discovered Want To Do lists. No mystery to that. It’s exactly what it sounds like. Only no one ever tells you about them. Big List doesn’t want you to know about Want To Do lists. But before “they” track me down and bury me under another pile of administrivia, let me speak to you of the truth of this uproarious uprising, this revolutionary revolt: When you start making Want To Do lists you’re doing a powerful thing. I first wrote about this in 2023, apparently, so let’s just consider me an expert.

What you do, right after you’ve made yourself a Want To Do list, is to do one of the things on that list. Do it just for you. The feeling of scratching one of those things off one of those lists, that’s satisfying.

But you have to attend to the Want To Do list. I wonder how many of those I have floating around, still incomplete. At least two, surely.

Well, a few more months weeks, and maybe we can see about some of those thing.

Then, in a few more weeks, it’ll be “Well, in two more months.”

That’s the power of the list. If you just say it, you just say it. The idea floats in your mind and in the air but things out soon enough. But if you write it down — and go stream of consciousness here, rank ordering a Want To Do list is madness — then you can ignore the list. But … But! When you finally get around to it, you have that list in front of you, and you can recall that thing you wanted to do last November. Then you only have to remember why.

And do the thing.

But first, work stuff.

The editor in me wishes I’d become a better writer

Woke up tired, going to end it that way. And was tired most the way throughout. It was another busy and full day, too. When last we talked, I was taking a brief break from the big job packet. Yesterday was the clear-my-head-of-it day. Tonight, I started working on a dead tree edit.

You can edit the file you’re working on, but there’s a lot more you can catch on paper. At least that’s what I tell myself. It has the added benefit of being true. Also, this is a mortifying exercise.

I found the first typo on the Table of Contents. By page four I found my sixth correction.

It went on like that, for about 15 pages, which was just about all I could stand tonight. I’ll do the rest in the morning, and send it off.

I’ve read Dillard, I’ve admired Steinbeck’s journals, and Sarton’s memoirs. I’m sure they’re all more interesting than that, and — though it has been a while since I’ve read some of them, I don’t recall them talking a lot about editing comma splices and redundancies.

Today in Rituals and Traditions the students presented some interesting traditions that they found. I’m sure they all worked tirelessly, evaluating any number of these things from across the country and the world, studiously evaluating the premise behind any number of these things from all of the sports. That, I hope, is what they took from my directions. I wanted them to find something interesting, figure out where it came from, and tell us a bit about the thing. Why does it matter, and so on. The goal was to expose everyone in the class to a bunch of new ideas. You never know from whence inspiration will come. By and large, that’s exactly what they did.

Someone showed us a video of lighting the beam.

Someone else talked about the milk at the Indy 500.

And we also talked about how the Philadelphia Union bang a drum.

And maybe the inspiration will be that we wire a light to a drum, a drum soaked in milk, and then the most valuable player of the game will hit the drum over and over until the stadium lights come on. And then we’ll throw octopus on the playing surface. That Detroit Red Wings tradition keeps coming up in class, somehow.

In the Criticism class we talked about two pieces. The students picked these, and if nothing else it lets me prove there’s something to take away from anything we can read. Take, for instance, this column from The Athletic. The U.S. men’s Olympic hockey team won gold — and then lost the room:

In the immediate aftermath of their victory, the team took a customary, congratulatory call from President Donald Trump, and some players laughed at a misogynistic joke about the gold-winning women’s hockey team that many Americans wouldn’t find funny. They celebrated in the locker room with beer-chugging FBI Director Kash Patel, who is now under scrutiny for using taxpayer money to fund a sports getaway. Then, after a wild night of partying in Miami following their return from Italy, some members of the team announced plans to step in the House Chamber – a stage upon which symbolism is never neutral – and make an appearance at Trump’s State of the Union.

In normal times, this would be an obligatory celebration for a championship team. They take presidential calls. They party too hard. They visit Washington and stroll through the corridors of power.

But this isn’t a neutral climate. This isn’t a neutral president. And in a nation this polarized, the proximity carries weight whether the players are being intentional or merely naive. America no longer experiences these rituals in the same way, and it may never again. Athletes would be wise to recognize that, in this climate, celebration is easily repurposed into political capital.

So we talked about how columns are different than articles, because we live in a time where people don’t read enough to have learned to distinguish between the two. It is, and take my word for it, a real problem.

That piece also let us talk about the Miracle of Ice, which at least one person was not at all familiar. So, as I reminded myself these are 21st century students, I tried to paint pictures about the Cold War, the Carter administration, small fuzzy TVs and nationalism. So we also talked about nationalism in sport, and the politics of sports in two different ways. And then the propaganda value of politicians (of any stripe) glomming on to successful sportsball teams.

All of which is what I planned on at the beginning of the semester, even if they didn’t.

We also talked about this story, Phillies make sure Kerkering ‘knows he’s not alone’ after tough error:

Nick Castellanos watched from right field as Orion Kerkering’s ill-advised throw home sailed over catcher J.T. Realmuto to end the Phillies’ season.

Castellanos saw the Dodgers pour out of the third-base dugout, sprinting past a stunned Kerkering to swarm Andy Pages at first base to celebrate their 2-1 walk-off National League Division Series-clinching win.

Then, Castellanos broke into a sprint of his own. He rushed past the euphoric Dodgers on the infield dirt to get to a visibly emotional Kerkering.

“That’s second nature. That’s instinct,” Castellanos said. “I understand what he’s feeling. Not the exact emotions, but I can see them. I didn’t even have to think twice about it, that’s where I needed to run to.”

And here we talked about tone and intentions and beat writers. There’s something to learn in every story. At least for me.

Especially when you print them out.

cycling / Monday / photo / Rowan / site — No comments
02
Mar 26

The month of lions and lambs

Happy Monday, and happy March! We have survived the brutal months. Now, the month that makes the difference. All of the snow has mostly melted. Spring, overdue, has been promised. It has not yet been received here. It will be received with great interest when it shows up. And we’re getting close. We’ve had some mild temperatures. We’ve had sunny days, like this weekend. Now we just need to put it all together … and we will … and then keep it that way, until late November or so.

I better not be writing paragraphs like that very much longer.

It was a productive weekend, all spent right here at my desk. I did the monthly cleaning of the computer, updated the monthly spreadsheets, created new subdirectories and updated some boilerplate code. I put the February page of my master assignment calendar behind me. (I have several task-specific calendars running and when the stress of things hits my move is to make another calendar. Late last month I made the master panic calendar, filled it out through May, noticed almost every moment between then and March 28th was spoken for and then set about marking things off the list. Nowhere on that calendar is there a note to make another calendar. Five is sufficiently silly.)

I settled on two new documentaries for class. One of them will be a midterm, and I finished writing that today. The other we’ll watch in class. I’ve had it on my radar for some time, wanted to watch it, want to write something about it. About 14 minutes in I knew it was going into my Criticism class, too. I’ll pretend like this was all by design, because it should fit perfectly.

Also, I finished the draft of that work packet. Presently the thing clocks in at 29 pages, with all of the appendices to go. I wrote the service and research and professional development sections last week. I detailed the teaching section, filling up the maximum seven pages. I have two years of classes, peer observation, student reviews and subtle notes about the future to get into just seven pages. It took some doing to make it fit. Happily, all of the scores from my teaching evaluations are good. The lowest score I’ve registered in the last two years was about the difficulty of a class. Message received: that class will be more demanding and challenging if I get to offer it again.

I’m taking today off from that packet. It’s time for a break from thinking about myself. Besides, I have to think about tomorrow’s classes. Tomorrow evening I’ll do a dead tree edit of the packet, and then send it to a colleague who has generously offered to make sure I’m not omitting anything. After that, final corrections, final assembly, PDF the thing, and send it in. All of which takes place by mid-March. Not the longest thing I’ve ever written. Not the most tedious thing I’ve ever written. But it is a lot of me. Call it … maybe 60 or so pages? I can’t say yet. The checklist, though, tells me I have to have TWO tables of content. That’s always a signal.

On to more important things. We need to do the weekly check=in on the kitties. Phoebe would like you to know that she is not on the table. She is on the runner. And nowhere in the contract does it say she can’t be on the table runner.

Poseidon, himself no slouch when it comes to jailhouse cat lawyering, finds the argument a bit tiresome. Though you can be comfortably certain he’ll be doing much the same thing tomorrow.

So the cats are doing great. Lots of cuddles and big purrs over the weekend. Everyone is doing great.

I did manage a few quick rides. On Saturday, I was in Switzerland! This is just to the northeast of Zurich. I rode up and out from the small rural, forested village of Mosnang and over to the equally small and wonderfully charming Kollbrun. This route was part of one stage of the Tour De Suisse in 2024 and, while I did not see that particular race, I can see why.

I only wish that the person who recorded that route had done so on a brighter day. Switzerland is stunning most everywhere you look. Beautiful lakes, mountains a plenty, gorgeous values, and a huge array of glorious architecture. You can see ancient Roman, Romanesque, Gothic, Renaissance, Baroque, Neoclassical, Art Nouveau. But there’s just a little too much Modern and Post Modern architecture, some of which is bordering on Brutalist. Much better to be among the trees and the hills and the rivers and streams. Even if it’s just my basement.

Anyway, here’s that route.

And this evening I rode in Corsica. (But still my basement.)

The last four rides have felt really nice on the trainer. This is notable because everything prior to that, since November, has felt bad or worse. I was getting demoralized. Now, though, I want to see what kind of trouble I can get into riding uphill on Rouvy. I did that tonight. I found myself a little Cat-2 climb that let me climb 1,110+ feet over 3.82 miles. Saying I rode in Switzerland on Saturday, and tonight in both Corsica or Mallorca, where I powered up that hill, is nice, but I’d also like to go outside. I’m ready to not be in the basement.

If for nothing else because I’m kicking myself by how little I’ve done down there this winter.

But spring is coming in now. That’s what the top of this post told me, anyway.

Friday — Comments Off
27
Feb 26

I remember the poster differently

I remember being in an office somewhere as a kid, seeing a framed poster on the wall. Kitten dangling from a rope. “Hang in there — Friday’s coming.”

And from then on I have known that we weren’t made for Friday work. It was right there. Big Poster has been trying to tell us for years. But then the system, and The Man, are out there trying to keep you from seeing the truth. The truth, man. And the truth is, you shouldn’t be doing work on a Friday.

These are the things I was thinking about today, while working on this fine Friday.

I had a meeting this morning with a colleague to discuss a presentation we are working on. It was quite productive. I explained the thises, and she explained the thats. We’ll have another meeting next week and deliver the goods the week after. At the very least I should enjoy the presentation.

And then I began grading. So many things to grade. Actually … half the things to grade. I graded half of them late last night. And when the grading was done the writing began.

I have to do these big documents every few years. It’s a task of explaining your work. It matters for bosses and record keeping, but I choose to think of most of it as valuable for me. This can be reflective if you want it to be. And who doesn’t love to write about themselves at great length when it could become a part of your Permanent Record that you’ve always heard about?

This thing will be probably 30-some pages, before the appendices. And I have wisely chosen to start early this time out, get ahead of the thing. Do it in stages. Be thoughtful, be patient. Make myself look good.

Or something close to it, at least.

The writing will take place in four sections. There’s one for teaching, one for service, one for research and development, and, finally, a section meant to summarize all of that. All of that goes with a bunch of forms and a bunch of records and evaluations and, of course, the CV. I update my vita every month, so that part is easy enough. And know, thinking of it, knowing I’ll have to write another one of these huge documents in three years, I might just work on this every semester.

Each of these sections has a page limit, and I’ve been working on these from smallest to largest. I’ve been working on the smallest section, the development section, this week. I wrapped that up today, discussing the things I’ve done these last two years to better myself and research I’ve done. I got that into three pages. Then I moved into the service section. Here you go on for several pages about your service to the campus and and community. So I talked about the six committees I sit on and the seventh I’ve just joined, and the two community projects I also have contributed to these last two years. I’ve got five pages to talk about all of that, but I can write tight and get that into three or four pages.

This weekend I’ll have to tackle the teaching section. In that section I have to expand on classes, reply to peer observations, address student feedback and some other little things. I get seven pages for that. It’ll probably take all seven pages.

I’m trying to get all of this done for the first part of the week, so I can get some second draft feedback. It’s due mid-month, and there’s still probably several hours of work to go into it. But pretty much everything is due mid-month.

It occurs to me that i am the cat on that rope.

Rowan / sports / Thursday / video — Comments Off
26
Feb 26

Videos we watched in class

In Rituals and Traditions we discussed the notion of traditions as spectacle. We started with the basic definitions, the unusual, the notable, the entertaining, the exciting public event that is visually striking. All of those things that go into making a gameday atmosphere. I love that stuff. I want to know how they all started, and how they came to pass. And some of these we can get to pretty easily.

For instance, when we talked about aural expressions, I showed this video, and part of the origin story is tacked on to the end.

We discussed other chants and cheers. And the silent expressions. I thought about just showing raw footage of Taylor University’s silent night, but this TV package explains the whole thing.

We discussed visual displays, and I showed this video, while I also confessed that dotting the i does nothing for me. But if it was like this every week, it’d be one of my favorite traditions. Dotting the i is 90 years old this year, and it’s thought to be one of the first big marching band arrangements, and certainly one of the longest lasting.

And, since I’d poked fun at the Aggies on Tuesday, I gave them a little video redemption today, sharing part of this package on midnight yell practice. All of which, as I explained, stems from there not being anything else to do at College Station.

And we talked about stadium performances, like this new thing that Clemson is doing. It’s great! I know, in my part of the world Clemson and great don’t often go together, but this is great, which the game announcers conveniently explained for us.

I talked more about Osceola and Renegade than perhaps they wanted to know, but this is a fascinating piece of lore.

Just to change it up, I touched on the La Barra Brava at DC United. No one knew what barra brava meant, but we talked about Bolivian immigrants coming to that region and attaching themselves to the club in the 1990s and now it’s impossible to think about a game there without them, even as what they’re doing isn’t routinely expected at U.S.A. sporting events.

And then I shared an example of one of the few instances of tifo in the U.S.

There are a lot of compelling examples in soccer, mostly from Europe, where these fans have tied the game and the club to their community, where it feels far more intensely wrapped into identity in a way that we don’t often see here, but you can’t everything in in one day.

And now, next week, they all have to share examples of rituals and traditions they’ve found, in brief individual presentations. We should get two dozen new examples out of the exercise. Or at least I hope we do.

During office hours, since no one came to visit, I knocked off some work, and then I started writing a column. I had this idea the other day and it has been bouncing around in my head long enough that I had to start whipping it into shape. I didn’t finish the job, but this evening I’ve made the thing much better. We’ll see, tomorrow, if I can perhaps try to make something of it.

We watched these videos in Criticism today. This was a long-form ESPN package that ESPN wrote, which followed up on a newspaper article we discussed in class on Tuesday. This woman is just incredible.

We also watched this one, and I think I’m retiring the video. I like it better than two consecutive classes. And I don’t think they’re as impressed with what’s going on in this production, or my explanation of it, than perhaps they should. But the man at the end is a hit.

And then there was this video, which two or three of them had seen, but more were interested in. Many excellent questions were raised. They couldn’t answer them all themselves, but right now I’m pleased to see them thinking their way into the questions.

It occurred to me, watching this once again before the class met, that this particular game was perhaps the first time a where-were-you-when moment took place that everyone had phones in their pocket. They didn’t make that specific point in the piece, but they walk you right up to it.

That’s enough for now. I have a meeting in the morning for which I must prepare. And more things to grade. And other items to work on, too. Keeps me out of trouble.