I got the letter on Friday Oct. 16th. The one I've been dreading and knew would come since the day Columbia Hospital and St. Mary's Hospital in Milwaukee signed the "partnership" agreement in 1995. It's time for everyone on the east side campuses (they don't call them hospitals anymore) to re-apply for their jobs. Now, the letter doesn't come right out and state that, it's put in a more employee friendly way. We actually have to state what are our job is, when we would like to work, and then our managers will place us in new positions. Now, I realize that I have completed my math requirements for college, but any 5th grader could pretty much tell you that CSM will not have enough job openings for all the employees currently working for both CSM Milw campuses. Columbia Hospital, which just celebrated its 100th anniversary this past summer will be closing in the fall of 2010. We are the ones who have lost in this merger and I really don't care what management tries to state otherwise. We bailed St. Mary's out of a financially ruinious situation, suffered the wage freeze when it happened and made CSM what it is today. Not St. Mary's. But we are the building closing.
And the trend to adopt St. Mary's way of life has been ingrained since that "partnership" agreement 14 years ago. Columbia lost it's identity, many of the employees have left, and there are few who remember Columbia Health System which competed with St. Mary's. Anyone who knows me, knows that I am making a life decison in changing my career. I've never thought of work as a career. I've never had ambition to get to management, have a high paying position, or otherwise make my work my career. Work has always been a way to pay bills and allow me to do the things I really cherish in my life. My hobbies, live without debt, be comfortable, play, and help others when they need it. Work is not the end all be all for me, and it never will be. My parents were hard working salt of the Earth people and that's pretty much where I get my work ethic from. Work is not my life. But it does take up a huge portion of it, and if that is going to be the case, I feel I should be happy where I work.
I've already told my boss that I will not go to the new hospital. Even if it does have a lake veiw. I want nothing to do with it. My office will be at a different CSM owned building, and luckily I have the type of job where I don't have to be onsite in order to complete my duties. But of late, I've been really trying to figure out if I want to stay. I've spent 20 years there, and come this January, it will be 21 years. I had hoped to make 25 years, but I'm not so sure I want to. Something about this whole new hospital deal makes me bitter that Columbia was used as nothing more than a financial springboard for St. Mary's to get a new building. And now, because the building is sold, Columbia is slowly turning into the (now closed) St. Michael Hospital and the standards are no where near what they used to be. Why fix, repair, clean, paint, upgrade, or care about a building that is being abandoned? Let the new owners take care of it. Even if they want that building. I'm guessing it will be torn down and new construction will be put up. I have solid tiger eye maple doors going to my office, a marble window ledge, 15 foot ceiling, wood trim, and plaster walls. I seriously doubt the new building will have any of those features or workers who even care enough to notice the difference.
It's going to be a blood-bath when the openings are announced. Not only will there be bitter unhappy people who didn't retain jobs, but the ones who do will be left to work short when all the non-job people quit. There will be no new hirings because who would be crazy enough to take a job just for a few months? So the ones left behind will be worked ragged until they too quit. The job lettings have happened twice now in the past year, and I expect more will come in this year. I worry about the quality of care and the reputation damage we will suffer, and I'm not sure I want to be part of that. I already get every horror story people can relate when they find out I work for a hospital. As if I alone either had some influence over their care, or can fix whatever problem they encountered. Especially when they find out that I mainly do billing. From my experience I've pretty much surmised that no one likes billing people.
In 1999, my husband and I won at auction, along with several other people, dinner with Anthony Daniels(C-3PO from Star Wars) when he was in town for Gen Con. The dinner was at the (now closed) Polaris Restaurant atop the Hyatt. He is a wonderful person in public, and I mean no disrepect to him, but at the very beginning of dinner, he went around the table trying to guess what everyone did for a living. He got to me, and had a very hard time guessing. In fact, he came back to me. After several wrong guesses he caved and asked me what I did. I stated that I did billing for the retail pharmacies for CSM. His smiled faded and he launched into a lecture about how you could die in a waiting room if you didn't have your insurance information in this country. I couldn't get a word in edgewise to defend myself because he continued to tell a story of an injury he suffered while filming something, had to go to the ER, and was insulted because the intake worker didn't recognize him and asked him for his insurance card. The person with him made a big production about who he was and apparently he got the treatment he needed. But then he also launched into how he would NEVER have been treated that way in England.
I knew, even back then and having had my current job for only a year, that was the way people were going to react to me when I told them what I do for a living. So, why then did it take me this long to make moves to leave? And why do I care so much? It paid the bills and because Columbia was one of the best hospitals in Milwaukee at the time. I also started out as a Pharmacy Technician, not in billing and enjoyed that job much more than what I do now. It's too bad they don't pay techs what I make as a billing coordinator.
So, those are my somewhat uncheery thoughts for a Sunday night. I miss Columbia and I am not looking forward to the coming year work-wise.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Sunday, September 6, 2009
New beginings
School has started once again, and this semester I am taking a chemistry class and a creative writing class. Odd combination, huh? Chemistry is at campus and the writing class in online, which seems fitting. I've also had to shift my working hours to a split second shift time, except for a 10 hour day on Tuesdays that will start at 7am and go till 5:30pm. But that's not the point of this posting. Actually, I'm not really sure what the point of this posting is, I just felt like writing something.
We are starting out with poetry in creative writing, something I'm not good at, and have never been comfortable with reading or writing. I know a few things about myself, and one of them is that I like to deal with absolutes. Yes, I know nothing is absolute in life, and I suppose that is where poetry gets its foot in the door and takes hold. And, as with anything else, the variety of poems and poetry out there is a varied as life itself. But, they all have one thing in common. Using words in a way they, the words, may never have been intended to be used. And that's where my discomfiture comes with reading and trying to understand what's in front of me. I love writing essays. Same with actual experiences. I really enjoyed writing my papers in my ENG 102 class mainly because they drew on an actual experience that was the subject of the paper. Am I saying I have no creativity and can't come up with a story or poem? No, but it won't be anywhere near what I want to write.
Several years ago, my work needed to go through a "getting in touch" moment so that we could understand our fellow coworkers better. A nice way of saying that we were fighting so badly with one another that management had to do something about it before someone filed a complaint with HR. There were MANY reasons why we didn't get along, some valid, some not...but the main part of the kumbyeya moment was that we were divided up into the following groups based on our own understanding of ourselves. Machine gun thinkers, dreamers, list makers, and story tellers. My work had roughly 45 people in it at the time and I was the only story teller. Not "lie-like-a-rug" story teller, but someone who "collects" stories, life experiences, anecdotes, trivia, etc from other people and myself and then uses that information when it is needed.
The majority of the group were machine gun thinkers, the ones who made a decision based on clear, concise facts presented in a machine gun manner and didn't want to hear or consider the detrius of non-facts. No background stories for them. They also find the three other groups sometimes intolerable to listen to. Which, right there, explains why the dept was having the problems it had. There were a few dreamers who were the poets of the group, and the rest were list makers, which is a fairly obvious personality trait. Even though the day long event failed to make us a better department, it was something that made such an impact on me that it really did adjust the way I deal with my coworkers, and eventually any person I meet. My husband is a machine gun thinker and I can tell when I've moved past the "I'm telling him what he needs to hear" moment and into the "He'll listen and look like he's paying attention but is thinking about something else" moment. He also has the remarkable ability to repeat back to me what I've just said so in some ways he is listening, but not like I would like him to listen sometimes. But he will tell anyone that it's dead-on I'm a story teller. That I'm most comfortable with dealing with an actual event than trying to come up with something that's abstract or non-existent.
So, I guess what I need to do, is write poetry that deals with absolute experiences. It could be argued that all poetry is based on real life experiences, and I would agree with that, but the way it's written is what is difficult for me. Part of being a story teller is to have the best understanding of what I'm reading and not filling in the blanks myself or creating my own story of someone else's experience. You would think someone who wants a degree in information resources would love any written or spoken word, but for some reason I get irritated at the vagueness of poetry. Maybe that's it. The vagueness of poetry. But, really, couldn't anything be vague enough to make the reader or listener irritated?
When I was a freshman in high school, we had to read Romeo and Juliet and the screen play of West Side Story. The book actually had both printings in it, and chapter by chapter and verse by verse we got through both stories. By far West Side Story was the most popular, the easiest to discuss, and the part of English class that got the class to pay attention. I struggled through Romeo and Juliet, but flew through West Side Story. Shakespeare, arguably regarded as THE greatest writer of humankind, was no match for interest from a 9th grade English class. However, throw in some snappy songs, easily readable text, gangs, guns, and choreography and the class gets it. And, not only gets it, but was eager for more. Why?
Maybe I will be able to answer that question after this semester. Maybe after being forced to write and read poetry, I will gain a better understanding of it and will be able to add that to my collection of stories. Or maybe being forced to once again read and write it will continue the distaste I developed in 9th grade and never got over. Maybe because I know in my heart I'm not a writer, I will always be a collector of stories and not a creator of them.
We are starting out with poetry in creative writing, something I'm not good at, and have never been comfortable with reading or writing. I know a few things about myself, and one of them is that I like to deal with absolutes. Yes, I know nothing is absolute in life, and I suppose that is where poetry gets its foot in the door and takes hold. And, as with anything else, the variety of poems and poetry out there is a varied as life itself. But, they all have one thing in common. Using words in a way they, the words, may never have been intended to be used. And that's where my discomfiture comes with reading and trying to understand what's in front of me. I love writing essays. Same with actual experiences. I really enjoyed writing my papers in my ENG 102 class mainly because they drew on an actual experience that was the subject of the paper. Am I saying I have no creativity and can't come up with a story or poem? No, but it won't be anywhere near what I want to write.
Several years ago, my work needed to go through a "getting in touch" moment so that we could understand our fellow coworkers better. A nice way of saying that we were fighting so badly with one another that management had to do something about it before someone filed a complaint with HR. There were MANY reasons why we didn't get along, some valid, some not...but the main part of the kumbyeya moment was that we were divided up into the following groups based on our own understanding of ourselves. Machine gun thinkers, dreamers, list makers, and story tellers. My work had roughly 45 people in it at the time and I was the only story teller. Not "lie-like-a-rug" story teller, but someone who "collects" stories, life experiences, anecdotes, trivia, etc from other people and myself and then uses that information when it is needed.
The majority of the group were machine gun thinkers, the ones who made a decision based on clear, concise facts presented in a machine gun manner and didn't want to hear or consider the detrius of non-facts. No background stories for them. They also find the three other groups sometimes intolerable to listen to. Which, right there, explains why the dept was having the problems it had. There were a few dreamers who were the poets of the group, and the rest were list makers, which is a fairly obvious personality trait. Even though the day long event failed to make us a better department, it was something that made such an impact on me that it really did adjust the way I deal with my coworkers, and eventually any person I meet. My husband is a machine gun thinker and I can tell when I've moved past the "I'm telling him what he needs to hear" moment and into the "He'll listen and look like he's paying attention but is thinking about something else" moment. He also has the remarkable ability to repeat back to me what I've just said so in some ways he is listening, but not like I would like him to listen sometimes. But he will tell anyone that it's dead-on I'm a story teller. That I'm most comfortable with dealing with an actual event than trying to come up with something that's abstract or non-existent.
So, I guess what I need to do, is write poetry that deals with absolute experiences. It could be argued that all poetry is based on real life experiences, and I would agree with that, but the way it's written is what is difficult for me. Part of being a story teller is to have the best understanding of what I'm reading and not filling in the blanks myself or creating my own story of someone else's experience. You would think someone who wants a degree in information resources would love any written or spoken word, but for some reason I get irritated at the vagueness of poetry. Maybe that's it. The vagueness of poetry. But, really, couldn't anything be vague enough to make the reader or listener irritated?
When I was a freshman in high school, we had to read Romeo and Juliet and the screen play of West Side Story. The book actually had both printings in it, and chapter by chapter and verse by verse we got through both stories. By far West Side Story was the most popular, the easiest to discuss, and the part of English class that got the class to pay attention. I struggled through Romeo and Juliet, but flew through West Side Story. Shakespeare, arguably regarded as THE greatest writer of humankind, was no match for interest from a 9th grade English class. However, throw in some snappy songs, easily readable text, gangs, guns, and choreography and the class gets it. And, not only gets it, but was eager for more. Why?
Maybe I will be able to answer that question after this semester. Maybe after being forced to write and read poetry, I will gain a better understanding of it and will be able to add that to my collection of stories. Or maybe being forced to once again read and write it will continue the distaste I developed in 9th grade and never got over. Maybe because I know in my heart I'm not a writer, I will always be a collector of stories and not a creator of them.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Good-Bye Summer....
It was nice while it lasted. My summer class ended July 31st and for five weeks I'm free of school, and for almost two of those weeks I was also free of work. Well, my paying job anyway. I was able to take some time to go visit friends in Ohio (Hi Kathie and Steve!), and then veg around the house a bit. Scott and I didn't go to GenCon this year, but maybe next. We'll see if they have fun guests of honor and if the road construction between Wisconsin and Indianapolis is better. Chicago is a lost cause as that freeway/tollway is ALWAYS under construction, but I-65 to Indy was also torn up this year. Even though we have air conditioning in the car, I don't fancy sitting in construction traffic with the AC off, in August, in Indiana. So, we passed on it this year.
As the summer draws to a close, my husband and I have decided to pave our driveway and put in a patio behind the garage. We've had a gravel driveway since the beginning of this house, and even though it doesn't bother me that much to have it, shoveling it in winter is hard, and even more difficult with the snowthrower. I won't miss the ice that forms on the gravel as I've fallen several times, including my first night back to college where I not only fell, but ripped the skin off my palms from the rocks that were still sticking up, and was a bloody mess going to my first night of English 102 class. That's a good way to start a semester. Not realizing that I had ripped that skin off, it wasn't until I was half-way to class and with my hands burning did I realize they were more than just scratched up. Once I got into the light I saw that my hands were bloody, I was a wet mess from the snow (it was snowing pretty hard), and the front of my pants were muddy and bloody because of my hands. I'm very glad that the rest of the semester didn't go as badly.
While in Ohio, I went to an estate sale with Kathie and Steve. It was paydirt for me, as I found a set of salt and pepper shakers in the depression glass pattern I collect. Granted they were pink instead of the monax (white) color I collect, but I got them for a song. I had really only needed the tops, but when I saw what the bases were, there's no question as to whether or not I'll keep them. Last summer I found a quilt that is exceptional in its stitching and quality, and this summer the shakers. I'm not sure how I'm going to top myself next year, but it will be fun trying. Kathie is the person who got me into auctions and antiques by exclaiming one day in my kitchen "WOW, that's a Shawnee cookie jar on your fridge!!!" I had no clue what it was other than grandma's cookie jar which was always magically full of cookies whenever the grandkids were there. It was never empty. When she passed away, I was very lucky to get that cookie jar and a box of "old, white dishes" I though would be useful when I went off to college in the fall. I was 18 at the time and didn't have a clue as to what either items were worth, or would be worth in the future. I just knew that I would always think of my grandma when I looked at that cookie jar. So, when Kathie had that reaction, my interest was peaked for all things Shawnee and soon had the salt & pepper shakers and the creamer that went with the cookie jar. Then, the collecting of depression glassware started. While at the first auction Kathie took me too, there were a few plates in the same pattern that I had sitting in my basement. The crowd was not paying attention and I got them for a song too. The auctioneer actually admonished the crowd for letting someone get those plates for cheap. I didn't care what the crowd did, I was thrilled and hooked.
Over the years, I've added quite a few things to my collections of glassware and Shawnee pottery. I'm sure my grandmother would have a fit if she knew how much these items were worth. And, that I treat them more like museum pieces instead of actually using them. I do use a few platters of my depressionware, but they are pretty common ones and are also not mint. You might find a chip or two in them. And, no, the shakers will not be in use either....
My final thought is that even though I love collecting this stuff, it has occurred to both my husband and I that moving all this stuff into a new house is going to be, well, let's just say, AWFUL! It never occurred to us that we might want to collect, oh, I don't know, feathers or something light. It's going to take a long time to move, plus packing all these things will be nothing short of, short. But, I guess we'll cross that bridge when we get to it. Until then, just one more piece of glass won't hurt, will it?
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Random Thoughts
I haven't blogged in several weeks, mostly because I really haven't had anything to say. I'm almost done with my summer class, and I'm still irritated that Caucasians are referred to as "whites" and "white man" yet skin color is never used for any other ethnic group.
I saw my first Christmas stuff in the store last weekend (July 11th) at Fleet Farm in Plymouth. A whole aisle of lights, lawn ornaments, decorations, artificial trees, and other assorted Christmas items. They were having a Christmas in July sale, which is lame. I'm wondering at what point the stores will have year round Christmas sales and just be done with the pretense of suffering through the non-Christmas shopping season.
My workplace, Columbia Hospital, celebrated its 100th anniversary today. I have worked there 20 years, and as of October 2010, will close. Columbia and St. Mary's hospital form CSM (Columbia St. Mary's) and will have a new hospital at the St. Mary's Milwaukee site. The employees are continually told that this is a wonderful thing, but I'm sad that a once great hospital, Columbia, will close and forever be forgotten. And, at what point will the "C" in CSM be erased from the name because it doesn't exist anymore. The merging of employees will prove to be stressful and interesting. All the Columbia employees will be like the step-children in a new blended marriage. The ones relegated to trying to fit in and make a place for themselves. At least the ones that still have a job.
Why is our government spending money it will never have? Why are all these programs and far reaching plans being passed RIGHT NOW instead of being discussed and debated for a reasonable amount of time so we know what we are getting ourselves in to? What is the hurry?
Why do people think a national health care plan will be run any better than what Medicare is run now? Just ask any person on Medicare about the plan and you will hear nothing positive. As a person who deals with Medicare from a providers point of view, if we get the same reimbursement from the new Medicare, we will be bankrupt within the first year. You think you wait a long time for treatment or a doctor's appointment now? Just wait until there are only a handful of doctors and hospitals and you are triaged based on age, life-style habits, and whether or not you really qualify for treatment.
Why are there so many Michael Jackson fans all of a sudden? Where were they when he was on trial? Personally, I was never a fan and didn't really care for his music. I think he was a strange person and don't feel any differently about him now that he is dead. Why does death change some people's perception of the deceased?
And finally, why isn't The Amazing Race show in HD?
I saw my first Christmas stuff in the store last weekend (July 11th) at Fleet Farm in Plymouth. A whole aisle of lights, lawn ornaments, decorations, artificial trees, and other assorted Christmas items. They were having a Christmas in July sale, which is lame. I'm wondering at what point the stores will have year round Christmas sales and just be done with the pretense of suffering through the non-Christmas shopping season.
My workplace, Columbia Hospital, celebrated its 100th anniversary today. I have worked there 20 years, and as of October 2010, will close. Columbia and St. Mary's hospital form CSM (Columbia St. Mary's) and will have a new hospital at the St. Mary's Milwaukee site. The employees are continually told that this is a wonderful thing, but I'm sad that a once great hospital, Columbia, will close and forever be forgotten. And, at what point will the "C" in CSM be erased from the name because it doesn't exist anymore. The merging of employees will prove to be stressful and interesting. All the Columbia employees will be like the step-children in a new blended marriage. The ones relegated to trying to fit in and make a place for themselves. At least the ones that still have a job.
Why is our government spending money it will never have? Why are all these programs and far reaching plans being passed RIGHT NOW instead of being discussed and debated for a reasonable amount of time so we know what we are getting ourselves in to? What is the hurry?
Why do people think a national health care plan will be run any better than what Medicare is run now? Just ask any person on Medicare about the plan and you will hear nothing positive. As a person who deals with Medicare from a providers point of view, if we get the same reimbursement from the new Medicare, we will be bankrupt within the first year. You think you wait a long time for treatment or a doctor's appointment now? Just wait until there are only a handful of doctors and hospitals and you are triaged based on age, life-style habits, and whether or not you really qualify for treatment.
Why are there so many Michael Jackson fans all of a sudden? Where were they when he was on trial? Personally, I was never a fan and didn't really care for his music. I think he was a strange person and don't feel any differently about him now that he is dead. Why does death change some people's perception of the deceased?
And finally, why isn't The Amazing Race show in HD?
Friday, June 26, 2009
Diversity and Education
I'm taking my Interdisciplinary Studies class online this summer. The best I can figure out is that this and Ethnic Studies classes are pretty much diversity training. At my work I have to go through diversity training twice a year. Apparently, someone thinks that I don't know I should treat other people with respect and understand that not everyone is going to agree with me. And, that there are other people in the world who have different skin color. I had no clue that there were other people of different skin colors out there until I had diversity training at work and school. I was too wrapped up in my Euro American Caucasian world to even realize that there are other opinions and cultures in the world. And, guess what? You shouldn't make fun of them, or think that you are smarter or better, or not hire or work with them. Oh, and they also have a right to their religions beliefs too.
Do you think I'm kidding and being sarcastic? The work lessons are worse than the school classes, but both are of the same spirit. The thing about school, however, is that I'm paying good money to be told these things. Lessons my parents taught me for free. I'm sure there are people out there who really need to be taught these lessons, but I'm guessing they are not going to be the type to stick through a semester of lessons, or continue employment for any length of time. My other observation about diversity training is that there is never the expectation that anyone other than "white" people need to go through these lessons. Oh, sure, the AAS degree requires all students to have three credits for each area, but everything is taught so that the "white" person can gain an understanding of a different culture.
My summer IS class is entitled "American Indian Studies" and I really wanted this class to be about what the culture entails and not a rant about the "evil white man". Yesterday, she (my teacher) posted a racial joke in the discussion area and justified it by putting "warning, some may be offended" in the subject line. Considering we HAVE to read EVERYTHING the teacher posts, it's not like we could ignore this. I've actually heard this joke before, it's as old as the hills, and wasn't that funny the first time I heard it. I'm not going to justify it by posting it again, but let's just say that the punch line is about the "white man". The thing is, if I, as a "white (wo)man" had posted that in my discussion group, I'm guessing I would have been expelled from the class. Maybe even subject to disciplinary action from the University for posting racially offensive material. Why then, is it ok for the teacher, the person we are supposed to believe unconditionally, to post this joke? Is it because she's American Indian and it's a slam against the "white man"? And why does she get to refer to Caucasians as "white man" in all of her lecture notes and commentaries, but never once uses the term "red man"?
If the point of this class is supposed to be cultural understanding, using racially offensive terms doesn't really accomplish that, does it? Yet, if I bring this up to her, I'm sure I'll flunk, and she'll have some lame excuse about using the term "whites" and "white man". If "red man" is racially offensive, so is "white man" and NEITHER term should be used. I knew that going into this class, so I'm not sure why I'm being told it's ok to use "white man" but not "red man". Both describe a color of skin, both are dehumanizing, and double standards should never be tolerated. It's unfortunate that we do tolerate them. I'm really thinking of telling her that, but after my grade has been posted. Because a person who supposedly "educates" with racially offensive jokes and terms won't think twice about flunking a "white woman" for expressing something that is a double standard being used in her class.
I also seem to feel that the two required books and the lecture notes are being written specifically to be insulting to Euro Americans and Caucasians. I'm guessing it's a case of petty revenge for all the history books that were written by "whites" about Indians. In fact, the beginning lesson had a spiel about that very fact. That the books used were going to be from an Indian perspective, because apparently, in all this time no "white man" has gotten history correct.
I won't let this be a stopping point for my college degree. I will do what I have to in order to not only pass this class, but get a good grade. I've learned two things from diversity classes. 1) They are not really about treating people as equals, and 2) How to regurgitate back to the teacher what s/he wants to hear and not what I really feel.
I guess they really train you for how to deal with a boss.....
Do you think I'm kidding and being sarcastic? The work lessons are worse than the school classes, but both are of the same spirit. The thing about school, however, is that I'm paying good money to be told these things. Lessons my parents taught me for free. I'm sure there are people out there who really need to be taught these lessons, but I'm guessing they are not going to be the type to stick through a semester of lessons, or continue employment for any length of time. My other observation about diversity training is that there is never the expectation that anyone other than "white" people need to go through these lessons. Oh, sure, the AAS degree requires all students to have three credits for each area, but everything is taught so that the "white" person can gain an understanding of a different culture.
My summer IS class is entitled "American Indian Studies" and I really wanted this class to be about what the culture entails and not a rant about the "evil white man". Yesterday, she (my teacher) posted a racial joke in the discussion area and justified it by putting "warning, some may be offended" in the subject line. Considering we HAVE to read EVERYTHING the teacher posts, it's not like we could ignore this. I've actually heard this joke before, it's as old as the hills, and wasn't that funny the first time I heard it. I'm not going to justify it by posting it again, but let's just say that the punch line is about the "white man". The thing is, if I, as a "white (wo)man" had posted that in my discussion group, I'm guessing I would have been expelled from the class. Maybe even subject to disciplinary action from the University for posting racially offensive material. Why then, is it ok for the teacher, the person we are supposed to believe unconditionally, to post this joke? Is it because she's American Indian and it's a slam against the "white man"? And why does she get to refer to Caucasians as "white man" in all of her lecture notes and commentaries, but never once uses the term "red man"?
If the point of this class is supposed to be cultural understanding, using racially offensive terms doesn't really accomplish that, does it? Yet, if I bring this up to her, I'm sure I'll flunk, and she'll have some lame excuse about using the term "whites" and "white man". If "red man" is racially offensive, so is "white man" and NEITHER term should be used. I knew that going into this class, so I'm not sure why I'm being told it's ok to use "white man" but not "red man". Both describe a color of skin, both are dehumanizing, and double standards should never be tolerated. It's unfortunate that we do tolerate them. I'm really thinking of telling her that, but after my grade has been posted. Because a person who supposedly "educates" with racially offensive jokes and terms won't think twice about flunking a "white woman" for expressing something that is a double standard being used in her class.
I also seem to feel that the two required books and the lecture notes are being written specifically to be insulting to Euro Americans and Caucasians. I'm guessing it's a case of petty revenge for all the history books that were written by "whites" about Indians. In fact, the beginning lesson had a spiel about that very fact. That the books used were going to be from an Indian perspective, because apparently, in all this time no "white man" has gotten history correct.
I won't let this be a stopping point for my college degree. I will do what I have to in order to not only pass this class, but get a good grade. I've learned two things from diversity classes. 1) They are not really about treating people as equals, and 2) How to regurgitate back to the teacher what s/he wants to hear and not what I really feel.
I guess they really train you for how to deal with a boss.....
Friday, May 22, 2009
The Generifaction of the Holiday
This morning (May 22nd) I was wished a “happy holiday weekend.” I have noticed the past few years several things about holidays.
First, in society's attempt to be diverse and to not offend any group or person, holidays that once had cultural or religious meaning have been obliterated by the generic term “holiday”. It's the perfect non-committal, non-significant, non-meaning, non-threatening, non-descriptive way to wish someone good feelings for something that we may or may not know if the person celebrates or not. But if the person doesn't observe or celebrate the “holiday” why would we wish them a happy “holiday”? It's almost as if we need to leave no person behind when it comes to happiness during holidays.
Second, I do not want to be wished a happy holiday when it is Memorial Day or a happy holiday weekend for the whole weekend. It is NOT a happy holiday, it is a time to remember our dead, and specifically, our military dead. It seems that in our rush to enjoy every single second of the summer, society has now deemed that Memorial Day is not for remembrance and reflection, but a whole weekend event to WOO HOO! ring in the whole season of summer. This, of course, ends with Labor Day weekend, which being a day the Unions have constructed isn't really a holiday I observe, but I still get wished a happy holiday weekend for that one too. I don't mind, but maybe it would have more meaning to me if I were in a union. But as it stands now, I really don't care about that one. Mostly, it's annoying because it usually falls right around or on my birthday, so trying to plan anything is difficult because of crowds of people trying to get the last days of summer crammed into their lives before school starts or the perceived notion of winter starting the next day.
Third, when I wish some a happy Easter, or a Merry Christmas, or a happy Hanukkah, or whatever happy holiday is current, I get a surprised look and then a smile. I have yet to have someone correct me, scowl, or be angry that I wished them a happy (specific) holiday. However, I don't wish anyone a happy Memorial Day. That's just insulting. Of the six major recognized holidays (New Year's Day, Memorial Day, Labor Day, Christmas Day, Thanksgiving Day, and July 4th) that the majority of America observes, Memorial Day is the only one that isn't a reason to celebrate, yet we've turned it into a reason to celebrate because, after all, who DOESN'T love summer? Oh, wait, Memorial Day isn't about summer? What? Are you sure?
And fourth, I really want the retailers to stop treating this day as a great opportunity for sales. That doesn't mean I want all the stores closed, but what I do want is for them to stop treating the day as another Christmas shopping season. Anyone who wants to shop is going to whether or not (insert store here) is having a special Memorial Day sale. Just have a sale, don't name it a Memorial Day sale. There's no need for that.
We've lost our meaning for this day. I would also equate it to having lost our meaning and direction for what is important not only on this day, but every day. No one likes to dwell on the dead, or sad times, or what we've lost in life, or be reminded of how harsh, cruel, and mean reality can be. Of course it's more fun to think about the summer ahead and how great it is to have a mandated day off of work. If we're lucky, we can get the Friday before off and get a jump start on that traffic. But that is not what this day, and not a weekend, is about. Society has turned it into a reason to celebrate, because who wants to be bothered with all those depression thoughts of war, fallen heroes, and lost friends and relatives when the perfect grill-out is just minutes away.
To my father, Lester L. Olson, I would like to say thank you for your years of service in the Army Air Corp during WWII and Army Reserves after the war. And to my mom, Ruth E. Olson, thank you for your years of service to Military Families through the American Red Cross. I miss you both.
First, in society's attempt to be diverse and to not offend any group or person, holidays that once had cultural or religious meaning have been obliterated by the generic term “holiday”. It's the perfect non-committal, non-significant, non-meaning, non-threatening, non-descriptive way to wish someone good feelings for something that we may or may not know if the person celebrates or not. But if the person doesn't observe or celebrate the “holiday” why would we wish them a happy “holiday”? It's almost as if we need to leave no person behind when it comes to happiness during holidays.
Second, I do not want to be wished a happy holiday when it is Memorial Day or a happy holiday weekend for the whole weekend. It is NOT a happy holiday, it is a time to remember our dead, and specifically, our military dead. It seems that in our rush to enjoy every single second of the summer, society has now deemed that Memorial Day is not for remembrance and reflection, but a whole weekend event to WOO HOO! ring in the whole season of summer. This, of course, ends with Labor Day weekend, which being a day the Unions have constructed isn't really a holiday I observe, but I still get wished a happy holiday weekend for that one too. I don't mind, but maybe it would have more meaning to me if I were in a union. But as it stands now, I really don't care about that one. Mostly, it's annoying because it usually falls right around or on my birthday, so trying to plan anything is difficult because of crowds of people trying to get the last days of summer crammed into their lives before school starts or the perceived notion of winter starting the next day.
Third, when I wish some a happy Easter, or a Merry Christmas, or a happy Hanukkah, or whatever happy holiday is current, I get a surprised look and then a smile. I have yet to have someone correct me, scowl, or be angry that I wished them a happy (specific) holiday. However, I don't wish anyone a happy Memorial Day. That's just insulting. Of the six major recognized holidays (New Year's Day, Memorial Day, Labor Day, Christmas Day, Thanksgiving Day, and July 4th) that the majority of America observes, Memorial Day is the only one that isn't a reason to celebrate, yet we've turned it into a reason to celebrate because, after all, who DOESN'T love summer? Oh, wait, Memorial Day isn't about summer? What? Are you sure?
And fourth, I really want the retailers to stop treating this day as a great opportunity for sales. That doesn't mean I want all the stores closed, but what I do want is for them to stop treating the day as another Christmas shopping season. Anyone who wants to shop is going to whether or not (insert store here) is having a special Memorial Day sale. Just have a sale, don't name it a Memorial Day sale. There's no need for that.
We've lost our meaning for this day. I would also equate it to having lost our meaning and direction for what is important not only on this day, but every day. No one likes to dwell on the dead, or sad times, or what we've lost in life, or be reminded of how harsh, cruel, and mean reality can be. Of course it's more fun to think about the summer ahead and how great it is to have a mandated day off of work. If we're lucky, we can get the Friday before off and get a jump start on that traffic. But that is not what this day, and not a weekend, is about. Society has turned it into a reason to celebrate, because who wants to be bothered with all those depression thoughts of war, fallen heroes, and lost friends and relatives when the perfect grill-out is just minutes away.
To my father, Lester L. Olson, I would like to say thank you for your years of service in the Army Air Corp during WWII and Army Reserves after the war. And to my mom, Ruth E. Olson, thank you for your years of service to Military Families through the American Red Cross. I miss you both.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Cell phones
I may be dating myself here, but I remember when there were no cell phones. It really wasn't all that long ago, and they may have existed in the military, but within a few short years, something that I never knew existed has now taken over lives. Let me explain. I'm guessing that Alexander Bell had no clue the Genie he let out of the bottle as I think the telephone has been at least as influential to modern society as electricity, automobiles, and indoor plumbing. I say modern because I think the wheel has been THE most influential device, but that was invented a long time ago and doesn't qualify as modern in my book. For years, the phone was tethered to a stationary spot and wasn't mobile. When the cords were cut, a whole new dynamic emerged concerning phones, and along with that, a whole new level of bad manners and bad etiquette.
When I was in the 4th grade, and yes, I'll tell you what year it was (1975-1976 school year) we had weekly lessons in manners and etiquette. One particular lesson was on the usage of telephones. Back then, phones were big, boxy, and were rotary dial phones. Push button phones were just coming out, but you had to pay extra each month for the rental of the phone and for the special phone line to use them. Oh, yes, you rented phones from the phone company. There was no such thing as buying your own phone. There was a cord from the receiver to the base of the phone and then from the base of the phone to the wall. Also, for many years, you couldn't unplug the phone from the wall and move it from room to room. It required a technician to come out and rewire the phone lines. Many homes only had one phone and in many instances the phones were hooked into "party" lines. My grandmother's phone line was set up this way for many years, and it wasn't until I was a junior in high school that she got a private line.
Anyway, back to manners class. We were taught several rules. First, when you get/receive a phone call that is all you pay attention to. It was considered very rude to eat, watch TV, talk with other people, do homework, or do any activity that took any attention away from the person on the other end of the line. Second, you NEVER listened to other people's phone calls. Tantamount to spying, eavesdropping, snooping, sneaking, betrayal, rudeness, and being a bad person. You left the room when someone got a phone call, or if you couldn't leave, you would at least get as far away from the person getting the call as possible. If you were making a call, you would wait until the room was clear before you made the call. That's just how it was. The point I'm making here is that your attention was given wholly and unconditionally to the phone conversation. It was bad manners to do anything else.
So, now I'm an adult back in college and one of the first things I notice is that the cell phone is as prevalent as notebooks and pens. They sit on the desk right next to books, and usually the traditional aged kids are the ones who can't seem to get through a class without using them. There is a distinct line that divides the people who were brought up with cell phones and those who got them later in life. And here's the rub. Why can't people make it through a class without communicating with someone via texting? What is SO important in their life that it just simply can not wait until they are out of class to talk to someone? I constantly hear the clicking of keys throughout all my classes and I find it disturbing. And, I've never had a teacher or professor once tell the class that it's unacceptable to text during class. My algebra teacher will give students the hairy eyeball if their phones beep or ring during class, but even he will wait until they silence the phone. Not turn it off, but only silence it. Then, when he gets back to the lecture, all you hear is tap, tap, tap, from that person and their phone.
I had lunch with a friend several weeks ago whom I haven't seen in a long time. As we were catching up, I could hear her phone beeping, vibrating, and beeping. At first she would briefly glance at it and put it back in her pocket. As lunch went on, she would look at it, hit a few buttons, and then put it back in her pocket. Eventually, as I was relating a very personal story to her, she took it out, and proceeded to start typing a manifesto on it. I let it go for about two minutes and then I stopped talking. It took her a few seconds to realize I had stopped and without looking up or stopping typing said, "I'm still paying attention." But that wasn't the point. This was something very personal and it would have been nice to know that I had her full attention and eye contact and not some portion of her non-texting brain. Apparently, I'm not important enough to compete with a cell phone for two hours. That's all lunch was. My phone? Turned off, as it usually is.
I'm still in the 4th grade mode of phone manners. I get very uncomfortable when someone is on the phone around me. This is a problem with cell phones because the majority of the people using them WANT you to know they are using them and WANT you to hear all about their lives and WANT you to ask them questions when or if they ever get off the phone. Do I really care what the cell user is having for supper when they are yelling about it in the middle of the dairy case at the grocery store? Or in restaurants? Or movie theaters? Or libraries? Or doctor's offices? Or any other public place? No, I don't really care about the mundane details of someone's life. I barely care about my own, let alone expecting anyone else to care about them. And don't even get me started on cell phone use while driving. That is a whole new level of irritation that is not only rude, but careless, reckless, stupid, and selfish. Hang up and pay attention to what you are hurtling down the road!
I'm saddened by the loss of phone manners because there used to be a time when personal contact was more important than technology. And we as society have accepted this change without a whimper of protest that we have now lost something that was essential to human understanding. Face to face conversation, and when we couldn't do that, a phone call. A very special something in your life that said, hey, look I'm calling you. I'm paying attention to you. But now, all of that has been taken away. Texting has replaced actual conversation, phone calls are public events to be shared, and quite frankly, what is going on in your life right now is nowhere near as important as telling someone that you are bored in class and want to leave. Blah, blah, blah.
I do believe that cell phones are important, and have used one on several occasions when I really needed help, or really needed a bit of information, or needed directions. But, for the most part, my phone is off during class, work, movies, going out to dinner, when I'm with friends, gatherings, at home, and, well, most of the time. I don't give out my cell number unless I really have too, and my friends know not to call me on it because I usually don't answer because it is turned off. I'm in control of my life, not my phone. I really don't need to be accessible 24/7, nor am I that important to think that I am. It's too late to teach people about manners and cell phone usage, that Genie is long gone. But what I would hope that would happen is that more people will stand up to rude cell phone behavior and maybe, just maybe, we can get back to the priority at the moment.
Think about this, would you turn to another person and start a conversation when someone you are already talking with is still telling you something? That would be rude, wouldn't it?
When I was in the 4th grade, and yes, I'll tell you what year it was (1975-1976 school year) we had weekly lessons in manners and etiquette. One particular lesson was on the usage of telephones. Back then, phones were big, boxy, and were rotary dial phones. Push button phones were just coming out, but you had to pay extra each month for the rental of the phone and for the special phone line to use them. Oh, yes, you rented phones from the phone company. There was no such thing as buying your own phone. There was a cord from the receiver to the base of the phone and then from the base of the phone to the wall. Also, for many years, you couldn't unplug the phone from the wall and move it from room to room. It required a technician to come out and rewire the phone lines. Many homes only had one phone and in many instances the phones were hooked into "party" lines. My grandmother's phone line was set up this way for many years, and it wasn't until I was a junior in high school that she got a private line.
Anyway, back to manners class. We were taught several rules. First, when you get/receive a phone call that is all you pay attention to. It was considered very rude to eat, watch TV, talk with other people, do homework, or do any activity that took any attention away from the person on the other end of the line. Second, you NEVER listened to other people's phone calls. Tantamount to spying, eavesdropping, snooping, sneaking, betrayal, rudeness, and being a bad person. You left the room when someone got a phone call, or if you couldn't leave, you would at least get as far away from the person getting the call as possible. If you were making a call, you would wait until the room was clear before you made the call. That's just how it was. The point I'm making here is that your attention was given wholly and unconditionally to the phone conversation. It was bad manners to do anything else.
So, now I'm an adult back in college and one of the first things I notice is that the cell phone is as prevalent as notebooks and pens. They sit on the desk right next to books, and usually the traditional aged kids are the ones who can't seem to get through a class without using them. There is a distinct line that divides the people who were brought up with cell phones and those who got them later in life. And here's the rub. Why can't people make it through a class without communicating with someone via texting? What is SO important in their life that it just simply can not wait until they are out of class to talk to someone? I constantly hear the clicking of keys throughout all my classes and I find it disturbing. And, I've never had a teacher or professor once tell the class that it's unacceptable to text during class. My algebra teacher will give students the hairy eyeball if their phones beep or ring during class, but even he will wait until they silence the phone. Not turn it off, but only silence it. Then, when he gets back to the lecture, all you hear is tap, tap, tap, from that person and their phone.
I had lunch with a friend several weeks ago whom I haven't seen in a long time. As we were catching up, I could hear her phone beeping, vibrating, and beeping. At first she would briefly glance at it and put it back in her pocket. As lunch went on, she would look at it, hit a few buttons, and then put it back in her pocket. Eventually, as I was relating a very personal story to her, she took it out, and proceeded to start typing a manifesto on it. I let it go for about two minutes and then I stopped talking. It took her a few seconds to realize I had stopped and without looking up or stopping typing said, "I'm still paying attention." But that wasn't the point. This was something very personal and it would have been nice to know that I had her full attention and eye contact and not some portion of her non-texting brain. Apparently, I'm not important enough to compete with a cell phone for two hours. That's all lunch was. My phone? Turned off, as it usually is.
I'm still in the 4th grade mode of phone manners. I get very uncomfortable when someone is on the phone around me. This is a problem with cell phones because the majority of the people using them WANT you to know they are using them and WANT you to hear all about their lives and WANT you to ask them questions when or if they ever get off the phone. Do I really care what the cell user is having for supper when they are yelling about it in the middle of the dairy case at the grocery store? Or in restaurants? Or movie theaters? Or libraries? Or doctor's offices? Or any other public place? No, I don't really care about the mundane details of someone's life. I barely care about my own, let alone expecting anyone else to care about them. And don't even get me started on cell phone use while driving. That is a whole new level of irritation that is not only rude, but careless, reckless, stupid, and selfish. Hang up and pay attention to what you are hurtling down the road!
I'm saddened by the loss of phone manners because there used to be a time when personal contact was more important than technology. And we as society have accepted this change without a whimper of protest that we have now lost something that was essential to human understanding. Face to face conversation, and when we couldn't do that, a phone call. A very special something in your life that said, hey, look I'm calling you. I'm paying attention to you. But now, all of that has been taken away. Texting has replaced actual conversation, phone calls are public events to be shared, and quite frankly, what is going on in your life right now is nowhere near as important as telling someone that you are bored in class and want to leave. Blah, blah, blah.
I do believe that cell phones are important, and have used one on several occasions when I really needed help, or really needed a bit of information, or needed directions. But, for the most part, my phone is off during class, work, movies, going out to dinner, when I'm with friends, gatherings, at home, and, well, most of the time. I don't give out my cell number unless I really have too, and my friends know not to call me on it because I usually don't answer because it is turned off. I'm in control of my life, not my phone. I really don't need to be accessible 24/7, nor am I that important to think that I am. It's too late to teach people about manners and cell phone usage, that Genie is long gone. But what I would hope that would happen is that more people will stand up to rude cell phone behavior and maybe, just maybe, we can get back to the priority at the moment.
Think about this, would you turn to another person and start a conversation when someone you are already talking with is still telling you something? That would be rude, wouldn't it?
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