Tuesday

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30
Dec 25

Back to … wurk … Wurk? What is wurk? Why is wurk?

It was not my best idea, but it was a good idea. I spent most of the day in front of a computer, beginning the class prep for the spring term. (Just twenty-two days away, but let’s never bring that up again.)

Cleaned off the desktop of my work machine. Moved the subdirectories filled with material from last term’s classes into a larger Fall 2025 directory, which I will open less. I started working on some syllabi. Here’s how that is going.

Sometime in junior high I learned that the plural of “syllabus” is “syllabi” and that’s always just be a fun word to say. Thank you, Mrs. Newman, for that. Here she is, in a quick shot from my high school yearbook, which is full of soft focus shots like this.

(I did not shoot for my high school yearbook. But I worry that I might have inadvertently taken on its soft focus style.)

I had Mrs. Newman for English in the 7th grade, and she did not care for that. She taught high school, but she wanted to be at our school. That was her first year there, 7th grade English was her foot in the door, and she made sure we knew it. She didn’t like us much that first year, was our impression. But, by quirk of scheduling, and her progression to where she belonged, I had an English or literature class with Mrs. Newman in 7th, 9th, 11th, and 12th grades. By the time we made it into honors English as juniors and seniors, my cohort was much more her speed. We’d earned a bit of respect. And she’d shaped us into something.

She was a demanding teacher, and she was excellent at what she did. We had to write, daily, on a random topic of her choosing. I wish I still had those notebooks — I am glad I do not. On Fridays we had to write a précis (her class, in the 7th grade, was where I learned the word “précis”) on a magazine article of her choosing. There we all were, 7th graders subscribing to Newsweek. (It was still a terrific magazine back then.) We did this in every class, for four years across junior high and high school. For whatever reason, she graded these things on a scale of one to nine. I recall I once got a six or a seven on a paper and she wrote in the margin that she expected better out of me. In terms of writing, she made me expect better out of myself, too.

She bragged on her Lexus. Bragged on her son, the actor. Bragged about the writers she’d met. She told a story about randomly knocking on an aging William Faulkner’s door, and every time I think of it, now, I’d really like to know if that story was true.

I credit her often, mentally, but that amount could never be enough. Whatever writer I could become, she did the most formal shaping of it. Oh, I had wonderful training in college, and there’s nothing like reading and writing to up your game, but Mrs. Newman was the one that made me try. She smoothed the firmament and laid the foundation for me. She taught me how to be comfortable with volume, made me learn how to synthesize complex and nuanced works, made me write every day, opened the door that allowed me to expect more from what I’m reading, All of this has served me well. All of it was in her classroom in what was, then, called The New Building.

I talked to her once when I was in college. Called her out of the blue, made her tried to guess who I was. She figured it out. I had a question about a paper I was writing and knew she was the person to ask. That was the last time we spoke. She retired soon after that. Presumably she realized she couldn’t improve upon the good work she’d done on us. Her husband, a prominent attorney for decades, died a few years ago. She still lives in the area, I think.

I’m going to write her a letter later this week.

Anyway, I’m working toward three classes for the spring term. One is an online course, Digital Media Processes, I have taught twice before. This might be the first class in the history of me that I’ve taught three times. My hypothesis is that it takes three times to get a class right, but I’ve never been able to try it. If nothing else, I am excited to have a class that’s already prepared.

I’m also teaching my new Criticism in Sport Media again. This will be my second time with that class. The first experience, in the fall, was positive. I saw ways I could make it better. A few weeks ago I started sketching out how that will look. The student feedback was encouraging. They also professed enthusiasm for the point of the class. (High school teachers and librarians are seeing the same thing: kids know they need to be more literate in the world they are growing into.) Will I get to teach it a third time, applying polish from that second effort? No one knows.

But, for now, it’s another syllabus I don’t have to start from scratch. There are a few key changes to make, but it only took a few minutes on this first pass.

I’m also teaching another brand new class, Communicating Rituals and Tradition in Sports. So this syllabus, the lessons, the outline, everything is … well, not a blank slate … I have many scribbled notes and an outline on my phone and a dozen or so open tabs and things I’ve emailed to myself.

Whereas last semester I had three new preps — my 9th, 10th, and 11th since — fall off 2023 — I only have the one new prep this term. It won’t feel leisurely, but in comparison …

Today I started putting it all in the right order. I got about half of the semester situated in some kind of way. The idea here is that we’ll study individual rituals and team and organizational traditions and try to figure out why they are so important to us as fans. And we’ll also work with the athletic department at the university to try to help them come up with some new ideas for cultivating their campus fan base. This class could be really fun. I have it on the books for the spring and again next year. Whatever I learn this time out, then, I’ll be able to improve upon for fall 2026. Will I get to teach it a third time, applying polish from that second effort? No one knows.

Ah. Well. The same worries as every day are now the worries for a different day.

Now, it is back to finding interesting ways to talk about a variety of theories to make this class interesting and useful.

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23
Dec 25

No title Tuesday

When we got in last night, the first thing I did was put my things down.

No, that’s too early, let me back up.

When we got in last night, we stood on the curb at the airport for some time. The place we used as a park-and-ride had one shuttle running to the airport the week before Christmas, which seemed smart. It was cold. We waited. But it was at least night to be out of an airport, off of planes. Our trip began just before 6 p.m. and we landed just after 11 p.m. Not bad, considering we had a short layover in Detroit. It turned out that we took the same plane, so we disembarked long enough to grab a bite, and then get back on the plane. For our first leg of the flight I sat next to a retired Delta pilot. He is now flying rich people around out of Detroit. There are, he said, five wealthy families in Detroit and six jets. Then he showed me his Christmas card from Bob Seger, who is one of those families.

We covered a lot of ground as we were flying over the ground. The styles of flying, how much money people typically earn before they buy a plane of their own, some of his anecdotes, and so on. He asked me what I do for a living, and I told him, and he found this interesting, so we talked about media for a long while. One of my former students is in Detroit, and he has surely seen him on CBS. He was very curious about the nature and process of media, and the conversation gave me more grist for my “people don’t understand what we do” mill.

It goes both ways, of course. I’ve been on many planes, and I can fly one just as well as he could produce a media product. We think we know about other things because of our experience, but it’s not an expertise. He told me the progency of the plane we were on, and told me about the insulation properties of the fuselage. I know nothing about his business. Now, let me explain the basics of local media economic models.

There’s going to be a hypothesis in there, somewhere, eventually.

We left him in Detroit, it was his last work for a week. It sounds like has a pretty good gig for a retired man. On the second leg of the trip I sat with my lovely bride. She watched a documentary, I caught up on the day’s news. I also learned that one of my former students will be on national television on Christmas Eve. She’s a meteorologist, having gone from Greenville, North Carolina to Albuquerque to San Francisco, a real talent, a credible forecaster and now she’s getting turns on national TV.

I bet she could have told me whether I had on enough layers for the curbside cold. Standing there, getting on the shuttle, getting to the car and getting home, might have taken about the same amount of time as either one of our flights this evening.

And so, finally, the first thing I did was put my things down. Then I petted the cats. They were very insistent and full of attitude, as if to say “These are the hi-jinx you could have enjoyed if you’d been here the last week.”

Today, there has been a lot of desperate cuddling.

And a lot of loud complaining.

One of their friends spent the week with them. They had a good time. I saw the photos and videos. I’m not sure who they think they’re fooling with this act.

But the kitties are doing well. And all of the cuddling slowed down today’s grading. This last batch took the afternoon and the first half of the evening. Much longer than necessary, but the class was the class was the class.

I’ll submit the final grades tomorrow, marking the end of the fall term. I’ll take a few days off. And then, starting Saturday, I’ll go back to designing a new class for the spring term. This will be my third brand new class in as many terms, and my 11th new prep in six semesters.

That, if you are not in this business, is a lot.

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9
Dec 25

The semester’s last lecture

The last day of classes. We talked about the future of streaming media in the criticism class. We did an image repair exercise in the org comm class.

I’ve got this speech I give. At the beginning of the term I say that being at the front of the room gives me the opportunity to, from time-to-time, go off track from the class. I have this down to three speeches, two at the beginning of the semester and one at the end of the term. And today I remind them of the first two speeches. The first speech is about my hope to be a small part of them discovering the true value of education: the joy of learning. The second speech — particularly selfish, but they are my captive audience and this is my gimmick — is about being mindful of cyclists and other vulnerable road users when they drive.

Both groups nodded along that they remembered both speeches, which I gave on separate days in September. And then I launch into the third and final speech. I talk about the open mind you need in class. Next door to an open mind, I say, is an open heart. And around the corner is compassion.

I say to them, there is a time in life when the only thing of value you can give another person is your compassion. And there may be a time in your life — and I hope it is many, many, many years from now — when the only thing of value another person can give you is compassion. If you look at the world around us, I say, you can see that the world needs more compassion. It’s always been that way, and may always be that way. And so I ask them to nurture that compassion within them, so that when they are called upon to do so, they are ready to give it freely. That, I say, is why I end each class the same way. “Thank you for your time. I’ll see you next time. I hope to see you next semester in class or around campus. Until then, be safe, and be kind.”

And, then, for some reason, the students all clap at me, and most of them make a point of thanking me.

I don’t need those things, but I’m gratified to know that something here has meant enough for them to do so.

Some of our colleagues have decorated their doors for a holiday party tomorrow. This is my favorite one.

And here’s the sunset from the sixth floor. A sunset at 4:44 p.m.

And now it is finals time. My last final went online today. It is also meeting time. I have a faculty meeting tomorrow. I have a bunch of stuff to grade, too. Guess what I’ll be doing for the next week?!?

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2
Dec 25

New look to the front page, btw

For fun, I made some certificates for colleagues. They’re all inside jokes for conference friends. Polite, smart, funny, kind-hearted people. One of them was about one guy picking on another guy. That second guy got one for being up for anything. Another certificate for was for someone running the circus. A third was for another guy, “and he knows why.”

He does not know why. But, you know, I don’t know why either. He’s just about the sweetest, most decent guy you could meet. If he’s ever done anything out of line no one knows about it and he’s buried it deeply in his subconscious. I could go on and on, but, really, we’re just lucky he’s a good friend.

Anyway, we all attend this one conference. And we’ve all held various leadership positions there over the years. We’re trying really hard to become the cool club within the club. Or just to amuse ourselves. One year, my lovely bride won the junior scholar award and at the conference and got a nice plaque. The next year, she won a top paper award and got a plaque. The year after that, I got a top paper award there. (I got nothing.) She also has some certificates from when she ran different divisions of that conference. I’ve run the same ones. (I got nothing.) In our text chat, the rest of the group realized they have been similarly shortchanged. So I made certificates.

Her certificate recognized her many conference achievements. So meta.

And so as to inoculate myself from a return joke, I made one for me.

That’s one of the two or three semi-notorious things I’ve said at that conference over the years. We were participating on a panel on the social constructs of this or that and I held up my phone and said something like, “We are all roaming little balls of hate with hate rectangles in our hands.”

Actually, I said exactly that. The quote was immortalized by someone who got a certificate today.

I get to see them in April, and I’m excited for it.

This evening I updated the images on the front page of the site. They look similar to the most recent version, but different. They look like this.

They are photos from a particular tree-covered road that I shot in October. And here I am, finally getting around to uploading them. This being one of my core hobbies, and being about five weeks behind on getting them here says a lot about my time management lately.

Maybe I’ll get better at it later this month, when the term is over, and the grades have been submitted.

At which time I’ll take three, maybe four deep breaths, and start planning for the spring term.

The good news is I only have one new class prep in the spring! (Three this semester was … a lot.) One class I have will be unchanged. The one will be new. And I’ll make some small adjustments to the criticism class. I’ll refine the details for that in a few days.

Yes, I have carved out two 15-minutes blocks of time, Thursday and next Tuesday, to figure that all out.

In today’s installment of the criticism class, we discussed this story. I chose it because it is a different sort of piece than anything we’ve read all fall. And I wanted the class to see the mechanics of how the writer wrote about the mechanics of deaf soccer. I played when I was a kid, and when I first saw this story last summer I thought, “How do they do that?” Soccer is basically played, and communicated, from behind you. But if no one can hear …


Soccer — and life — through the eyes of the U.S. deaf women’s national team

The first thing to know about deaf soccer is that it is soccer, and a match looks the same as at any level of the sport.

Instead of a loud, profanity-laced pregame speech from the most extroverted leader on the team, players gather in a circle and execute a synchronized movement of quick fist bumps and back-of-hand slaps. During the game, the center official raises a flag in addition to blowing their whistle for fouls and stoppages of play, and games are typically quieter than the average match that features more verbal communication.

From a technical standpoint, players must have hearing loss of at least 55 decibels in their “better ear” to qualify to play deaf soccer and, crucially, hearing aids are not allowed in games, ensuring all players are on a level playing field.

On a hearing team, communication often comes from the back. The goalkeeper and defenders see everything in front of them and can direct their teammates accordingly — and verbally.

“For us, that’s not possible, that’s not realistic,” Andrews says.

The process is more about inherent understanding and movement as a team. If a forward pushes high to chase a ball, everyone behind her must follow. Halftime or injury breaks become more important, Andrews says, because they represent rare opportunities to look at each other as a group.

One guy, at the bginning of class, wondered the same question. How does that work? I said, “You should read the story. It gets explained about 20 percent the way through the story, and it’s a good one, and you’d like it if you read it.”

He just smiled an embarrassed smile and put his head down for a while. We carried on.

We also read and discussed this story, How the Texans and a spa enabled Deshaun Watson’s troubling behavior, mostly for the troubling headline, so I could make some important points about headlines. But the copy is worth reading, too, if you can stomach it.

The accusations have been frequent and startling: more than two dozen women have said the football star Deshaun Watson harassed or assaulted them during massage appointments that Watson and his lawyers insist were innocuous.

Two grand juries in Texas this year declined to charge him criminally and, while the N.F.L. considers whether to discipline him, he has gotten another job, signing a five-year, $230 million fully guaranteed contract to play quarterback for the Cleveland Browns this coming season.

It is time, Watson and his representatives say, for everyone to move on.

Yet a New York Times examination of records, including depositions and evidence for the civil lawsuits as well as interviews of some of the women, showed that Watson engaged in more questionable behavior than previously known.

The Times’s review also showed that Watson’s conduct was enabled, knowingly or not, by the team he played for at the time, the Houston Texans, which provided the venue Watson used for some of the appointments. A team representative also furnished him with a nondisclosure agreement after a woman who is now suing him threatened online to expose his behavior.

In org comm we talked about crisis and conflict. Specifically, what are the differences between crises and scandals. This is one of those classes where you get to use popular instances of players the class knows and try to understand why things transpired as they did. For us, it is all building to next week’s work. And toward the final, but they don’t know that yet.

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25
Nov 25

Ready for turkey?

Guess who has been giving me the business for not talking about them here. You guessed it. They get a whole month of highlights, and then I overlook their contractually obligated weekly appearances for a few weeks and the howling, yowling protests I receive … these cats should have been agents. They’d be devastating in negotiations.

Anyway, here’s Phoebe, in between lodging her protestations. She’s surveying her queendom.

On a recent cold night, Poseidon cuddled up next to me, on top of me, and under the covers.

That’s the boy that wants to go outside all of the time. Always needs to be under the covers, but wants to try on the cold of all outdoors.

Here’s Phoebe considering a bit of dust on the steps. I like how the tail curls around the paws.

And here’s Poseidon doing his best noir cat act.

He would have been great in an old noir movie. He’s got real charisma on camera. But he also has versatility. If he couldn’t get top billing, somehow, he could play a good mid-level henchman.

So the kitties are fine. They’re ready for Thanksgiving, and an extra day of cuddles.

And while Thanksgiving is Thursday we did have class today. The university is only closed Thursday and Friday. So we had class today, those of us that showed up. In my criticism class we discussed Mo’ne Davis is finally ready to play baseball again

Back in 2014, when she was on top of the planet, when she was the first girl to pitch a shutout at the Little League World Series, when she was on the cover of Sports Illustrated and getting recognized everywhere she went and fielding requests from what felt like every corner of the country, Davis heard something that she never forgot.

In the immediate aftermath of that wild run in Williamsport, Pa., her coach told her, “Mo, I don’t want this to be the greatest thing you do in your life. I don’t want you to be 35 years old stuffing yourself in your old Little League jersey and signing at a card show.” She took that message to heart.

That was not his plan when he delivered it to her. “When they’re 13, you feel like they’re not even listening to whatever you say,” Steve Bandura says now. He was stunned when Davis, now 24, recently used that quote in a newspaper interview to describe what had shaped her life after that famous shutout. You remember that? Of course she did. Bandura met Davis back when she was in elementary school and had coached her in multiple sports, and he’d always recognized how smart she was, how good a listener, how thoughtful. Of course she would hold on to something like that.

She was invited to the White House. She published a memoir. She struck out Jimmy Fallon on The Tonight Show, she was the subject of a documentary by Spike Lee, and she had not yet turned 15. She kept thinking about those words from her coach all the while.

It’s a good story, and it’s about her, but it’s also about this new baseball league, and the modern star, and the commissioner, and the draft, and Davis’ coach is our real tie to the younger star of years gone by.

The draft for this new league has since taken place. Davis was picked 10th overall. The Women’s Pro Baseball League is scheduled to begin play next May.

We also discussed Cowboys DE Marshawn Kneeland dies in apparent suicide at 24:

DPS troopers found Kneeland’s vehicle crashed on southbound Dallas Parkway near Warren Parkway. According to the report, Kneeland fled the scene on foot and officers searched the area with help from K-9 and drone units.

As authorities were looking for Kneeland, a dispatcher told officers that people who knew him had received a group text from Kneeland “saying goodbye. They’re concerned for his welfare,” according to recordings from Broadcastify, which archives public safety radio feeds.

Approximately three hours later, Kneeland was found with what appeared to be a self-inflicted gunshot wound.

Happy Thanksgiving, boys and girls.

That’s a morning-of story, and one of the few breaking news style pieces of copy we’ve looked at this semester, so there were plenty of new things to talk about. And, as a palate cleanser, I ended the day with three quick videos, each with something we could discuss in a useful kind of way.

In org comm, we talked about stereotypes, prejudice and diversity. We discussed the organizational aspects of diversity and inclusion, and we talked the substance of organizational success. You could see them staring at the screen, with my extremely exciting slide deck. You could see them dreaming of turkey.

The blog is taking a few days off. See you next week. When I make my quiet little list of things I’m thankful for, I’ll be including the readers of the site in that list. And, of course, the kitties.

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