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Studniowka and Complaining

Saturday 22 January 2000

As I write, some of my absolutely favorite students are knee-deep in their studniówka. How I wish I could be there. I wonder if Adam is there? I can’t really see why he would be — if he doesn’t even know the students’ names, why would he care about their studniówka? On the other hand, if he’s the freak he seems to be, he might just be there, sitting with the teachers, not saying a word. I wonder if Danuta is there. In some ways, I really doubt it. She certainly wouldn’t want to spend so much time with the teachers, but she might have gone to see the students. Doubtful, but one never knows.

Yesterday I had to go to Carberry’s for lunch — I was expecting to go out with Adam (he’s offered to buy me lunch because of all the time I wasted working on that stupid project this week that seems to have been, by and large, for naught) but he’d already brought something for lunch. And of course that meant if I wanted to eat, I’d have to go get something myself — and pay for it myself, that is. Anyway, I went with several of the DLG folks — Ryan, Stephen, Jennifer (Asian), Rob, and a tech guy who’s name I can’t recall. I didn’t really say that much because I didn’t have anything to say about the topics of conversation. They talked (for some bizarre reason) about how much they hated Dunkin’ Donuts — how they won’t even set foot in there. They talked about the “horrible” work environment — I could have added something here, but to what end? I just sat there thinking, “Try the teachers’ room in Liceum Techniczne. That’s bad. This is heaven in comparison.”

Another topic: complaints about the fact that they’ve stopped bringing pastries and instead are bringing bagels for lunch. How ridiculous — they’re complaining about free food. For all intents and purposes, they’re wanting to say to DLG administration, “Look, we know you’re giving us this food, but we’re not satisfied with what you’re giving us!” It’s just a little ludicrous.

During the whole conversation I just sat gazing out the window, not really saying a single word. I’m not sure what I could say — I’m not good at “small talk” I’ve realized. I said that to Chhavi yesterday — “You’re just not good at talk,” she laughed. I’d have to disagree in a way. If it’s something that I’m interested in, and if it’s something that I feel at least vaguely knowledgeable, then I’ll contribute to the discussion. But talking about bagels and the oily nature of the coffee there (they were complaining about that as well) — no thanks. Nothing worth wasting my breath on.

I had a very Eastern sequence of thoughts while sitting there. Why am I so ambivalent to so many things? Why are the most common words to come from my mouth, “I don’t care?” It’s simply because the less preferences I have, the less stress I have to worry about. If I don’t care, then anything will do. If I can drink any kind of coffee put in front of me, then that’s one less thing I have to stress about. If I don’t care that I chose a rye bagel and just go ahead and eat it, so much the better for my stress levels.

Qualifications

Thursday 13 January 2000

Yet another birthday. For the first time in years I won’t be going to work thinking, “I wonder if anyone remembers. I wonder if any classes will do anything?” It was a nice sign that they liked me, and I always tried to be a pleasant teacher whom students actually thought was an okay person. Such was “proof,” I suppose.

Last night, after walking home from class, I was thinking about knowledge — again. I was recalling the interview I had with Rob for the job I now have, and he asked me if I’d be more interested in an editing position or a content-based position (“course developer” is the official title now, I think). I said that I didn’t know enough yet to be comfortable with the idea of being a content person. Muttering to myself as I walked down North Beacon Street, “I know just enough to realize how little I really know.” And I thought of my adventures trying to determine whether any of the New Testament was written in the second century or not as ample proof. I talked to Peter — large guy with earrings and a husky voice — last night after class and he confirmed that there was something written in the second century. (I mentioned 2 Peter and he said that it was a possibility, along with the other Neo-Pauline epistles, “But I really haven’t studied 2 Peter that much,” he said, and I realized, “God, in New Testament studies you could devote a significant portion of your life to studying one single book.”) Anyway, he said that there was something written in the second century, and now I “know.” But to what degree do I know? How can I be sure? What is the criterion for “knowing” versus simply “believing” or “thinking that . . .”? On what authority can I say I know this? Because he told me. On what authority does he have it? Because someone told him, or he read it (which constitutes the same thing as being told something — simply a different form). Someone, at some point in the process, knows it because she has examined the various documents — the scrolls and such — and done textual examination, and through various processes determined that it was second century. She “knows” it in a way different than I now “know” it. But what is the criterion? Expertise? Certainly not.

A good example of this is chaos theory. At one point, all meteorologists and atmospheric physicists (if there be such a thing, which I sure there is) “knew” that there really were no laws governing cloud shape. It was just random nonsense — noise, in other words. Then along comes fractals and fractional dimensions and we start saying, “Well, no, it’s not quite like that. It’s really a matter of nonliner equations.” So did the meteorologists “know” beforehand? Obviously not. Of course the same is true of any scientific revolution. Did people “know” before Copernicus that the sun revolves around the earth? They certainly thought they did. And they could have “proved” it in much the same way that I can now prove that some of the canonized New Testament was written in the second century.

Knowledge at one point was defined as “true justified belief,” but can someone know something and not realize that they know it? They just think they believe it? For example, most Christians “know” that God exists, but some more liberal might admit that they only believe it. If it turns out to be true, it was indeed “true, justified belief.” But they didn’t claim it as knowledge, simply as belief. Did they “know” it even though they only thought they “believed” it?

Something I’ve been meaning to write about: What was the purpose of the Passover symbols? Why put blood on the mantel and doorposts? Could God not discern without this visual aid which houses were Israelite homes and which were Egyptian? Wouldn’t it be a little obvious by the sectioning of the city? I sort of doubt that any of the Egyptians lived with the “defiled, uncivilized” Israelites.

Work Woes

Wednesday 22 May 1996

I was going to write in here last night but the computer locked up twice, so I decided it really wasn’t worth loosing the sleep over, especially today. I have to work a double. But that’s not the bad thing: I have to stay through the afternoon and close tonight. Of course there’s a chance that I would get sent home early, except for the fact that I’m already scheduled to close. That is absolutely ridiculous. I’m not exactly sure what that wonderful Linda was thinking when she made the schedule (and apparently she’s doing all the schedules now), but it certainly didn’t include anyone’s convenience. I think I might have to work a double tomorrow as well. Kim has to close four of the five nights she works. That’s ridiculous!

I’m not sure what they’re going to do about servers. They lose them faster than they hire them. They hired a whole batch of people a couple of weeks ago and I don’t think a single person stayed. If it keeps happening I would think that management would take a look at its own tactics and see if it’s doing something to drive people away. They’ve certainly driven me away — if I wasn’t already leaving I would be out looking for a new job.

I haven’t written that much about the two corporate people who have come to help us “sort things out.” Linda is a stunningly beautiful woman who seems to have the warmth of a dead fish. John is an interesting character who smacks as he eats. I’m not too fond of either of them, but I don’t dislike them at all. I have fairly neutral feelings about them both. Both of them seem somewhat inflexible, but I suppose they realize the same thing a new teacher would does: It’s easier to start out tight and loosen up than to start out loose and tighten up.

I talked to the Central Europe desk about a packing list yesterday — they’re mailing out the Welcome to Poland packets this afternoon and I should have mine by Friday. It includes an introduction to Polish and some information about the country. With less than four weeks to go I am really starting to get excited. […]

I am so dreading work today. I walk into that place and I’m struck with boredom, depression, and anger. It is so frequently completely dead that one has plenty of time to mediate on all the time he’s spending there. In the next thirty-six hours I’ll probably be there twenty of them. I certainly won’t have any time today to do anything except work that that hell-hole. I’m wondering if she’s scheduled Daniel and Pam to work over as well? If so, I’m going to get my little butt out of having to stay over and close. I get angry just thinking about what I have to do today. That is about the worst think I can imagine: spending a day at Uno’s. What fun!

I overheard an interesting exchange between two older men at the YMCA yesterday. One of them was saying something about Adam and Eve, and I think he was trying to say that everything is created for the benefit of man. Whether that be the case, it prompted me to thinking. From the creation myth in Genesis it does seem that all things are created for the man, but on closer inspection, one could give an interesting feminist reading to the passage. God created all the universe out of nothing — ex nihilo…except man. He created Adam from the dust of the earth, something that had already created. Then he took a rib from Adam and created Eve. It’s interesting that Adam is made of and from dirt but Eve is made of flesh, though she will return to dirt because of the very nature of flesh. The point is simple: God made a man out of mud but made a woman out of something a little less primitive. Naturally, that is a twentieth-century reading, and when applied to such an ancient text it cannot yield any legitimate exegetical fruits (that sounds pompous). Still, it does make for an interesting observation.