Driving home from campus this afternoon, I was finally able to get around a slow van when the road expanded to two lanes on my side. I pulled alongside mister law-abiding, right-at-the-speed-limit. His was a contractor's vehicle with a phone number on the back, metal racks on the roof … and this interesting symbol on the side.
I knew it was Greek but I wasn't sure which letter. Theta? No, that has a horizontal bar. Iota? No, that sounded too small which probably wouldn't be blue collar enough. Then I wondered if the electrician was playing some clever game. I know it's pretty rural where we live and I'd almost expect sly intellectual references if I was in Cambridge (notwithstanding being within a horseback ride to the best public university in New England). So I puzzled and puzzled. How do you pronounce phi?
The owner also had his last name on the side. In fact McPhee turns out to kind of a big deal within the electricity industry. Plus, their offices are far from Storrs. Phi was the mystery symbol and some purists argue it is pronounced as a long e sound. To rhyme with McPhee. Wikipedia informs me that this letter represents electrical potential which is an amazing advertising gimmick. I was very impressed and somewhat envious about the confluence of names and professions and symbols.
And I was about to end this entry when I followed a couple links and found that phi also is used to represent fugacity…
Fugacity reflects the tendency of a substance to prefer one phase (liquid, solid, or gas) over another, and can be literally defined as “the tendency to flee or escape.”
The fugacity coefficient is useful as a measure of the escaping tendency of a substance from a heterogeneous system.
fugacious |fyoōˈgā sh əs|
adjective (esp. poetic/literary)
tending to disappear; fleeting : she was acutely conscious of her fugacious youth.
Last random thought. A friend from Cleveland once told me of a sailing competition among various modest sailing clubs. All the competitors taught sailing during the summer and presumably were ski bums or college students in cooler weather. One team claimed they were descendants of an Indian tribe: the Fugawee. It sounded odd but its significance became clear as they shouted to other boats at each turn "We're the Fugawee?!" I can attest that when scented with beer, the voice that shouts that line sounds as if there is some uncertainty about one's location.
Turns out if you want footwear authentic to Paul Revere's time, you could obtain them from the Fugawee corporation. Further, there is a type of soil classified as Fugawee
Fugawee soils are on gently sloping plateaus and moderately steep mountains. Elevations are 6,000 to 8,000 feet. Slopes are 2 to 50 percent, but are mainly less than 30 percent. Fugawee soils formed in material weathered from basic volcanic flows, breccias and agglomerates. The average annual precipitation ranges from 35 to 60 inches. Mean annual temperature ranges from 37 degrees to 44 degrees F., mean January temperature is 24 degrees F. and mean July temperature is 59 degrees F. The average frost-free season is 30 to 80 days.
Time to flee and disappear. Fugaciously escaping.
First day of a very intensive (6 weeks x 6 hours each) of secondary science methods. I have enjoyed the challenges of thinking about what this group really needs. I suspect they want really practical information: how can I make kids behave, where can I find cool labs, how will I find a job? I know that making it appear I'm giving students what they want is a great way to gain their loyalty. And their tolerance. But I am also responsible for looking out for their well-being in that part of their life that takes place after student teaching. Fortunately, I was able to ask advice of students who just completed the program so I was making course decisions on more than just my hunches. One suggestion/confession: learning to reflect upon one's practice is not as dopey as it seemed at the beginning. My response? I ask for a blog entry each week about something in the course that has made them think or re-think.
Since it has been two months since my last teaching episode, I have had a lot of space to contemplate And since I also teach the undergraduate version this fall, I feel as if I'm doubling my investment because I will get two courses planned at once. It's not an especially stunningly innovative course and there's obviously a lot that had to be left out. But on the other hand, I'm operating under the belief that I will have more than one shot with both groups. There are electives they will likely take with me after their student teaching that will help me help them. It's not exactly that I've conceded that the course is just good enough. But it is sufficient for the time available and for what is most pressing for them.
I was prepared enough for today' that I had an unusually sound night's sleep. That rarely happens prior to a first class meeting. A bag of handouts, a spare projector in case my classroom was without, a spare marker in case the others were uncapped and dry. I even ironed my shirt and put a water bottle of sweetened coffee in the freezer to give me a boost for all 6 hours plus the 45 minute drive home. I loaded a milk crate of popular science books (Natalie Angier, Stephen Jay Gould, etc.) and hoisted my bookbag full of handouts into the vehicle. I left home without rushing and early enough that under even the worst traffic conditions I'd be on time.
At about the two-thirds point of the drive, I was wondering in what order to carry stuff in since it would take more than one trip to get everything into the building. Kind of like that old puzzle about a boat that can only carry two things at a time across the river: a fox, a goose, a bag of corn. [A little freaky that googling four words (boat fox goose corn) takes you right to the puzzle.] Since we had an instructor's laptop swiped from an unintended classroom two summers ago, I decided that my bookbag should be in the second run. The bookbag full of handouts. And so heavy it didn't register that the laptop was at home on a table. With a nice Keynote that would help provide structure for the whole day. To turn around could make me late and would certainly make me visibly flustered from the get-go. So I kept going.
We made it just fine. The Keynote was more of a planning document to organize my thoughts and when I was later able to pull it up (albeit as pdfs on the iPod) I was close to what I had planned. Instead of making them watch the Ott Planetarium NOS show, I gave them the link and suggested they watch it on their own time. Some other slides will fit into next week's schedule just fine. It was more than a little exhilirating to have to reinvent my plans going 70 mph. But it also meant it only took one trip to haul stuff because the projector had lost its purpose. I did read two poems: Like Lily Like Wilson just before lunch and To Be of Use to close the day. We were in a too-small room for 12 students and it was a little stuffy so letting them out at 2:40 instead of 3:00 was okay. Next time I'll remember the laptop AND the program secretary has secured a larger, carpeted and very air conditioned room. Still I'll probably improvise at some point, maybe shuffling like Thelonious (the Blue Monk). Or wonder whether I'm going crazy like old Bud Powell … who I just discovered c/o Lawson Inada. Not a bad day for creating conditions in which I had to teach without the Web to catch me.
Driving home from campus this afternoon, I was finally able to get around a slow van when the road expanded to two lanes on my side. I pulled alongside mister law-abiding, right-at-the-speed-limit. His was a contractor's vehicle with a phone number on the back, metal racks on the roof … and this interesting symbol on the side.