Educators: are you looking for instant feedback from your students? Consider one of the following student response systems for your classroom. A brief description of system features is listed below:

The i>clicker interactive student response system relies upon a base unit with proprietary software and dedicated presented remote (hundreds of dollars) plus a remote-controlled “clicker” unit used by each student ($40+ per student, plus shipping, plus batteries). After the teacher uses a computer to enter questions and possible multiple-choice answers, and after students register their remote-control units online, students indicate their responses by pressing the corresponding button on their remote-controlled unit. Responses are communicated to the instructor over radio frequencies; to avoid interference, students and teachers in each classroom should align clicker unit frequencies by pressing the power button until their unit indicator lights flash, after which point each student should enter the same two-digit frequency code to enable communication from their unit. Students are advised to monitor battery status; units that lose power will not register responses with the central system.

i>clicker student clicker unit

An alternative to clicker technology in your classroom involves time-tested technology with “retro” appeal. This mode of instant student response technology can be used with supplies that are available everywhere at a low cost (less than 10 cents) and easily replaced in case of malfunction, although single units can be used repeatedly over the course of a semester. After the teacher reads a question aloud or writes it on a chalkboard, student responses can be instantly communicated to the instructor over the standard electromagnetic spectrum with the support of standard classroom lighting or sunlight, in a manner that is impervious to radio-wave or infrared interference problems. In tests, technology crash rate is effectively 0%.

The Classroom Response System that Always Words: Pen and Paper

I’m visiting Houston, and staying in a hotel room without a kitchen, so last night I went out to pick up some dinner from a restaurant within walking distance: Uncle Tong’s Hunan Cuisine.

The owner of the restaurant met me at the door, and she seemed nice enough at first, as she took my order. As I was leaving, however, she volunteered an opinion about the neighborhood in which she had put her business. “Don’t go over there after dark,” she said, pointing to the Greenspoint Mall. “It’s very dangerous. There are too many blacks and Mexicans.” She repeated the warning, over and over again. It was such a strange thing for her to say, without any provocation, that I was caught off balance. I didn’t know what to say. At that moment, I wanted to escape the situation, so I just left.

Afterwards, I regretted my hasty withdrawal. I wished I had thought of something to say, like, “It’s not right for you to say that entire groups of people are dangerous, because of nothing other than their ethnicity. It’s racist, and I won’t be coming back to your restaurant.”

I missed the opportunity… so I’m making a new one right now. I’m writing this article to call out the Uncle Tong’s restaurant, and warn other people who live, work, or visit near the Greenspoint Plaza towers where the restaurant is located.

Uncle Tong’s Hunan Cuisine is operated by racists who use their business to encourage others to embrace racism. Racism makes their food taste like garbage. Don’t eat there.

uncle tongs

A few weeks ago, as a part of a professional project, I was asked to come to the apartment of a wealthy young woman who lived in a luxury high rise far above the noise of the large city whose postal address she claimed. On the floor in the corner of her living room, stretching up at least seven feet, was a pile of books, stacked carefully in a twisting pattern like the turtles under the command of King Yertle. I think she meant to display the pile of books as a sign of her combination of literacy and original design sensibility. The impression that I got, however, was that this woman didn’t truly care for her books, because her placement of them in such a high stack made it extremely difficult for anybody to pick up one of the books and look through it for a passage of insight or information.

Job Koelewijn monstrosityI was reminded of this illiterate stacking when I came across a piece of work by the Dutch conceptual artist Job Koelewijn this morning. Koelewijn built a bookcase in the shape of the symbol for infinity, and explained the meaning of the work by writing the following statement: “In the beginning was the word, the written word is unto eternity. A bookcase in the form of a lemniscate (the mathematical sign for infinity), full of books, words, shows the cycle of art. The way in which artworks endure, sometimes concealed, sometimes at eye level, close enough to touch, then forgotten for years, pushed away behind other books. The eternal performance of art. The public constantly changes in age and era. The words remain the same, and yet what is read changes from one age to the next.”

My interpretation is different. Only someone who values a visual pose over the rich linguistic content of written language would construct a bookcase of this design, which, for the sake of aesthetics, places a significant number of books in a place where they are extremely difficult to reach, and almost impossible to identify, beyond the general sense that they appear to be, in fact, books.

This piece of conceptual art is conceptually stunted, going only a short distance beyond the statement of a person who buys Reader’s Digest condensed editions to place on their shelves to add a sense of refinement to their knick knacks.

With everyone in the Northeast waiting to see if Hurricane Sandy delivers true calamity, I thought the time would be right tonight for me to try out a disaster-themed beer. I chose the Edmund Fitzgerald porter, from the Great Lakes Brewing Company.

The original Edmund Fitzgerald was lost on a stormy night and made into a repetitive folksong. Neither will happen to the Edmund Fitzgerald porter I bought tonight.

My 6 pack of Edmund Fitzgerald was left to cool safely on my back porch on a misty pre-hurricane twilight before consumption. Opening the bottle brought no great crack of sound, nor any whiff of destiny for my nose. Sipping it as I write, I find myself able to go for many minutes before remembering the bottle on my desk. This brew does not begin to plumb the depths of beer. It’s good, but there’s nothing remarkable about it. It numbs my teeth more than it stimulates my tongue.

I will say that, toward the end of the bottle, all of a sudden, a nice warm glow fills my mouth, with a touch of sweetness to it. It’s nice. It’s okay. It’s a warming sensation for a cold and stormy season. But, is this sensation enough to motivate me to get another 6 pack when this one is through?

Probably not.

On the first page of the new book Independents Rising, author Jacqueline Salit offers a fair warning: the book is “based on my personal experiences, rather than dictated by a single illuminating and unifying idea.” Independents Rising is not a book about ideas or even about people who are pursuing an idea. It is a memoir about a tightly-knit group of people doggedly pursuing power outside the two big American parties, adopting and shedding party status, independent status, loyalties and ideology as needed to maintain or reclaim advantage. This group of people has taken various names over the decades (New Alliance Party, Reform Party, Committee for a Unified Independent Party, Independence Party of New York City and IndependentVoters.org among them), but has been consistently identifiable by the presence of Fred Newman, Lenora Fulani and Jacqueline Salit at the center of activities.

If you’re interested in hearing an inside perspective regarding the power struggles of this trio and their history of shifting alliances with other personalities over the decades, Independents Rising will not disappoint you. Indeed, the internet is already peppered with positive reviews by associates of the trio who have enjoyed Salit’s recollections. On the other hand, if you’re interested in a dispassionate, well-sourced account of Salit’s group, or of the many political independents operating outside Salit’s circle, you may be frustrated by this book.

In Independents Rising, Salit chronicles an effort that creates parties and co-opts parties in the name of people who are independent of parties. On the one hand we find Salit’s stance regarding the identity of independents and their interest in undoing the party system (page 2):

“Who are these independents? A profusion of polling, focus groups, and profiles are suddenly dedicated to answering that very question. This is where the literal reading comes in handy. As someone involved in organizing independents for 30 years, I would advise putting all of the ‘data’ to one side. Listen to the simplest, the most obvious statement independents are making. No interpretation, polling, or focus group is needed. They are Americans who don’t want to align with any political party.”

But on the other hand we consistently read in the book about efforts to create political parties: the New Alliance Party, the Reform Party, the Independence Party. Salit attempts to address this contradiction, quoting Fred Newman (p. 92): “We’re an antiparty party. We came into existence to fight the party system. We want to be put out of business.” But despite these calls the Newman-Salit-Fulani trio spent over three decades putting together parties and doing what parties do: staking out and defending turf.

The turf Salit and her colleagues have defended isn’t based on consistent ideas. The group began by identifying with left-based and populist politics in its rhetoric but has more recently formed alliances with a number of right-wing and elitist figures, including Tom Golisano, Pat Buchanan, Ross Perot, Michael Bloomberg and various local Republican candidates. The New York County and New York State Independence parties associated with the “Independents Rising,” while adopting the stance of fighting the two major political parties, have taken money from the two major political parties. So far this year, the New York Independence Party’s Chairman’s Club is littered with contributions from major party candidates for local office. We don’t know yet who they’ll endorse, but in 2010 the NYIP consistently endorsed major party candidates. In 2008 the NYIP endorsed Republican candidate for President John McCain, not an independent or third-party candidate. As Salit’s book documents, the New York Independence Party and the New York City Independence Party have had conflicts over endorsement decisions, but Salit’s current effort is still organized under the New York State Independence Party umbrella. This year, the Salit-controlled Manhattan faction has received contributions from major party candidates for Congress, including the decidedly non-left Republican State Senator Marty Goldman, who has offered his female constituents workshops on “Feminine Presence,” instructing them on how to “sit, stand and walk like a model” and “walk up and down a stair elegantly.” After getting a contribution from Eric Ulrich earlier this year, for instance, the Independence Party has endorsed Ulrich for re-election. Then there are the hundreds of thousands of dollars taken from Michael Bloomberg while the Party endorses Bloomberg. It appears that the pattern of the NY Independence Party is to take money and issue endorsements — which is not “independent” activity.

This recent information on the activities of the New York and New York City Independence Parties is not included in Salit’s book, but these party-connected activities do cast significant doubt on the veracity of what Salit writes in her book about the importance of independent politics. Rather than taking Salit’s book as literal truth, I encourage you to read her words closely, checking not only the factual accuracy of her assertions but also noticing the difference between what Salit might seems to be implying and what she is actually saying. On page XI, for instance, when Salit writes that “The New Alliance Party was deeply disliked by the Official Left,” ask yourself who this Official Left is and what official recognized it. When Salit writes on the same page that “In New York City, I served as manager for all three Bloomberg mayoral campaigns on the Independence Party line, in 2001, 2005, and 2009,” you have to notice the “on the Independence Party line” bit. For the Bloomberg campaign actually under the auspices of Michael Bloomberg, Patricia Harris was the campaign manager in 2001, Kevin Sheekey was the campaign manager in 2005, and Bradley Tusk was the campaign manager in 2009. When Salit describes Ron Paul as having an “independent presidential bid” in 1988 (page 4), you have to read a bit earlier to notice that he’s described as a “standard-bearer of the Libertarian Party” at the time. No, he wasn’t actually running as an “independent,” unless by “independent” you mean “third-party candidate”; Ron Paul ran in 1988 as the Libertarian Party nominee. Perhaps third-party-is-independent is what Salit means considering her long history of building alternative political parties while simultaneously talking about “independents rising” as people who don’t want to belong to any political party. In order for Salit to describe the Bloomberg campaign she participated in (page 86) as a “dynamic, bottom-up movement,” she must first sidestep the “personal fortune of some billions of dollars” that was involved, some of which was directed her way.

Is Jacqueline Salit lying? No, I wouldn’t say that. I’m actually confident she believes every word she writes — confidence is one of the qualities Salit radiates in her writing. It’s probably more accurate to say that Salit’s understanding of events and way of defining the world is unconventional. After reading Independents Rising, her understanding may become yours, but it’s probably a good idea to check other sources regarding the events in her book to get other — dare I say independent? — perspectives.


In a footnote to this review, I note for interested readers that Salit makes passing reference to Americans Elect and No Labels, two connected 501(c)(4) corporations that refuse to disclose their donors while adopting the mantle of “independent.” Despite having (p. 129-132) and making (p. 200) connections to Americans Elect and No Labels leaders Peter Ackerman and Douglas Schoen, Salit is sanguine about neither. Of Americans Elect, Salit writes (page 201):

“While it offers an alternative process to nominate a ticket, it has set up closely held mechanisms that allow its founders to control the nomination…. Given that the Americans Elect rules tightly control the authorization of potential candidates, it surely intends to rearrange things for the insiders, without giving very much at all to the outsiders, including the independents.”

Of No Labels, Salit writes of their 2011 plans to swing Olympia Snowe’s Senate nomination:

No Labels stumbled recently when it urged supporters in Maine who were registered independents to reregister as Republicans so they could vote for Senator Olympia Snowe in an upcoming Republican primary. The motive was that Snowe was a moderate, targeted by the Tea Party wing of the GOP, and No Labels should step in to protect those in government who practice bipartisanship. Catana Barnes, the leader of Independent Voters of Nevada, who heard the appeal, resigned her membership in No Labels as a result, telling organizers that under no circumstances should independents be asked to give up their independence.

Robert Downey’s Sherlock Holmes, brilliant master of deduction, wins the day because evil bullets miss him.

In Brave, marketed as a “strong-girl” movie, the heroine wins the day by doing some sewing and telling her mother she’s sorry.

Hammacher Schlemmer is selling a big sleeping bag with a hood, pictured here, saying that it’s made of special fabrics that will thwart bedbugs from crawling up against you during the night and biting you. The company calls it a bedbug cocoon, for use in hotel rooms.

Hammacher Schlemmer freaky phobia sleeping bagThere’s one big hole I can see in this technology, though: The hole around the user’s face. Hammacher Schlemmer says that bedbugs are attracted to heat. Given that the face will be the one place on the user’s body that isn’t covered by a the purity blanket, that’s where the most heat will be released for bedbugs to track down. That’s where the bedbugs can enter the sleeping bag, too, and when the user rolls it up in the morning, and packs it in the suitcase, it becomes a handy dandy bedbug carrying case, helping the user bring their very own bedbugs with them from place to place.

Yes, insectophobes, buy this bed bug cocoon, and you can sleep confident in the knowledge that the thing you fear most will be conveniently available no matter where you are.

A More Subtle Ragnarok

May 30th, 2012 | Posted by Rowan in Religion | Reviews - (0 Comments)

This weekend, I finished reading Ragnarok: The End of the Gods, a retelling of the the ancient Norse tale of the Aesir and the destruction of the world, by British author A.S. Byatt.

Released in 2011, this version of Ragnarok is easy to find online at a fair price, but it’s not the sort of book you’ll come across walking through a Barnes and Noble. It’s not even found on Byatt’s own online list of her works.

book coverThe strength of this retelling of the material taken from the Icelandic sagas is that it’s written from an outside, non-believing perspective, as the Icelandic sagas were themselves (though they lack Byatt’s open critical distance). Byatt tells the story as she read it as a young child, which isn’t so much more distant than the telling we received from the Icelandic Christians 200 years after they abandoned their pre-Christian ways. Who’s to say what the original story was? Who’s to care? It’s what it means to us now, what it can do for us now, that matters.

Part of Byatt’s use of Ragnarok is as an ecological warning of the human destruction of life on Earth. That’s all well and good, but this ecological interpretation seems itself to be a metaphor for a deeper, more honest mourning of the open fields of childhood, and its relevance to the eventual devolution of the pure and beautiful into a black inky nothingness. This is a story of inner ecology, more to feel the honesty of than to think one’s way through.

In this childhood world, adults are like gods, and those who go off to war, and then complain of its destruction, well, did they not bring that destruction upon themselves, through their arrogance? Byatt’s realization of the superficiality of gods is a recurring theme. Loki, of them all, seems most interesting, and most powerful in the end because he is not as much of a god as the Aesir, those horn-helmed great pillars.

As Byatt has some elegant turns of phrase (“Any point on a ball is the centre and the tree was at the centre.”), but the strength of her writing is that its writerly qualities are subdued, allowing the power of the mildly cooked content to come through.