Why I Don't Teach Summer School and Why I Am Going To Kansas

Every summer I get asked some version of, "Why don't you teach summer school?" especially if it is known that summer school pays well relative to college teaching overall.

There's a practical work-related reason: As a field biologist I need to do research in the summer should I want to publish original science and have a chance of advancement in my field.  But anybody paying attention knows that I have not been spending most of the summer analyzing data, and in fact have steered clear or my office even when I have been in town.

Sometimes I'll mention needing a break, and anyone who has taught will relate to this, and more so if I mention the other kinds of activities (like re-painting my cabinets or going to the dentist) that I can only do in the summer.

If I mention my kids, most people will gently nod, "Oh, of course, your kids won't be little forever." That's completely true and I love traveling and baking and experiencing day-to-day life with Aster and Dianthus, but honestly I took off on an 8 week road trip (after a two week trip to Ecuador) in the summer of 2007, long before I had kids (and yes, you can read about those trips on this blog), so it is not just my kids.

Part of the reason I don't work in the

summer is my parents and my in-laws.  All four of them are healthy people around whom it is fun to be (that awkward sentence brought to you by my parents' voices in my head who still believe in not ending sentences with prepositions) and that won't always be the case (the healthy part).  As I was weeping about aging the other day, The Mister pointed out, "That's why we aggressively spend time with our parents and make sure that the boys really know their grandparents."  The ability to meet family in Yellowstone or Vancouver or Hilton Head or Tuscon (not to mention at their houses in Kansas and Colorado)  is a great reason not to teach summer school.

But kids and parents are not my main reason not to teach in the summer.  My main reason is because, much as I love my job (and most of the time I do), it is not all I want to do with my life.

I'm still surprised by the surprised reactions I get when I go out of my way to have fun rather than to work more.

My friend J, undergoing chemo to keep ovarian cancer at bay, and her new husband JR, undergoing radiation for cancer all over, get similar reactions when because they have a costume box and dress-up at the drop of a hat.  Some of their relatives act confused by how willing they are to have fun.  Based on conversations with them, they dress up, try new artistic endeavors, re-paint furniture with bright colors and explore herbal cocktails because it is fun.

I'm confused as to why this surprises people.  It's not a secret that our time here is limited and that possessions do not lead to happiness.  That seems to be repeated in most every thoughtful self-help book I've ever seen, not to mention religious practices and, well, common experiences. I am very fortunate to be in a position where I do not need to spend every moment working for survival.  I've been given an opportunity.  I'm not going to squander it.  

My family is driving 389 miles tomorrow in order to see a full solar eclipse on Monday and drive 389 miles back on Monday evening.  I'm really really hopeful that it will be an amazing experience to watch the stars come out at one in the afternoon.  But even if clouds obscure the dark side of the moon as it passes between us and the sun, and there will be another total solar eclipse closer in 2024, it will be worth the craziness of making alternative assignments for the first day of class, because it will be an adventure with friends, and if we are all here in April 2024, then I'll be up for a second once-in-a-lifetime eclipse adventure.

Just today I asked someone to cover my classes then.

[Waterfall images are completely gratuitous, by the way, and since I am up late writing disconnected thoughts, I should mention that they Mississippi kites were lining up and acting very unsettled this morning  (and very loud this evening) perhaps they are leaving early this year.]

Not being silent

I want to write about cake and pie and squirrels and books I've read, and to brag, just a little, about how great our kitchen looks* now that we've removed, sanded, primed, painted, and re-hung all of our cabinets with freshly toothbrush scrubbed hardware. I still have thoughts about Aster's surgery and a back log of flower images, prairie, garden and mountain.

I don't want to write about racism, violence, and people acting deplorably.  And just because someone shares a nationality, Northern European ancestry and allegedly a religion with me, does not make me responsible for his actions (any more, than say, one of my Muslim students is responsible for ISIL terrorism).  But somehow some expect an Imam to call out every gunman, and the Black Lives Matter organizers to make statements that it is not okay to shoot a cop. If so, then I, a white, Christian, native-born American (as with most of my readers) must publicly and loudly proclaim that it is not okay to drive a car into a group of people intending to murder them.  It is not okay to celebrate slavery (nor is it a slight to your ancestors to suggest that neither they, nor the society they created, was perfect).  It is not Christian, American, or "okay" to proclaim that hate is the way forward to a supreme white society.

I don't have good words for this.
I don't think that is a bad thing.

Here are some other words from fellow, white, Christian, native-born Americans who could not stay silent as they preached this morning: This is a link to a recording of the sermon at our church this morning, "Christian, Get Out of the Boat" and the transcript of the sermon from a former pastor of our church, "It's Time to Break-Up"

Don't be okay with racism.  It is not okay.  Okay?

*Except it doesn't yet look great because we are still rearranging as we return the cabinet doors.

Birthday Pie's da Bombe*

"A" Pie

Aster is now 6 and Dianthus is now 8 (and this blog is 10 and a half!).  Aster requested a lemon meringue pie for his birthday and Dianthus wanted a version of a charlotte royale after we told him that it was sometimes called "brain cake".

New 6 year old expression?

Rolling his own cake

Extra whipped cream and chocolate served sauce on the side

Baking notes:  The lemon meringue was from Kate McDermott's The Art of Pie using the Magpie pie crust.  I've settled on both as excellent.
The charlotte royale was inspired by the Great British Baking Show (here's Mary Berry's recipe and lots of images).  I had a recipe for "Scarlet Empress" in the charlotte section of the showcase cakes of Rose Levy Beranbaum's The Cake Bible, which Aster and I started to follow.  However, we did substitute cherry preserves for the raspberry in the exterior jelly roll.  Then we filled it with cherry ice cream instead of making a Bavarian cream.  The chocolate cake (from The Cake Book, my go-to cocoa and hot-water based chocolate cake) was an addition after we realized that there was no way that one recipe of biscuit roulade would be enough for both the side rolls and the base.  This was my first rolled cake, and the very light dry cake (eggs beaten separately, no butter) made for easy rolling (it is included in the cookbook just for that reason) but was not the tastiest cake (unlike the chocolate base, which is).

*This clever title is probably not funny unless you know that 1) a bombe is a term for a molded layered ice cream or cake and ice cream dessert (see Brownie Bombe  and Ina Garten's Ice Cream Bombe) and 2) in the mid 1990s, "da bomb" was used to indicate something great.