The only criticism of my teaching I get from the students is that I don’t place grades on Blackboard. So ok, I’m always in favor of granting reasonable requests. I looked up a YouTube video and learned how to use the Blackboard grading center.

Now I have two questions, and I’m hoping that those who are more familiar with the system can help.

1. Students only see their own grades, right? They don’t see everybody’s, do they?

2. It feels a little passive-aggressive instead of telling somebody in person “look, I need you to speak more in class because we have a high participation grade, and right now I don’t have much to go on to grade your participation” just to plop it into the system and hope that people take the hint. Am I worrying over nothing and this is just a new style of communication?

A local religious organization is hosting an event where a hundred pounds of chocolate eggs will be dropped off a helicopter over the church area “for the Easter egg hunt of your lives.”

Some folks have expressed timid concerns that having a hundred pounds worth of shit fall on you from the skies might look more like the wrath of the Almighty right out of the Old Testament than anything else.

Finally, the hype has died down and thoughtful, intelligent pieces on the firing of Tillerson have appeared. I love this one. Not only because it explains what went wrong for Tillerson (which is a story that won’t be interesting for longer than a couple of weeks) but because it explains why my cherished dreams of at least some business practices being transplanted to academia are futile. It won’t happen. And what a pity.

Great news! I will be speaking at the next MLA. About Basque literature.

It’s in Chicago, so this time it won’t take me a lifetime to get there even if there’s another snowstorm. I’m open to hanging out.

I’m not working on my Basque as much as I’d like but here’s what I can do so far:

– introduce myself and have a basic “how are you? I’m American. I’m not a student. Those children are students” conversation.

– count to twelve. Which, if you look it up, is quite a feat.

– ask what the time is and answer if asked.

– make a fairly complex order of alcoholic beverages at a bar (which is quite useless because I no longer drink. But hey, that’s what the textbook considers crucial.)

– point to objects and name them or ask their names. Especially things like sea, mountains, forests, farms, etc.

– recite every ETA slogan that ever existed. Which, I’m hoping, will be as useless as ordering wine at a bar.

– explain where different neighborhoods of Donostia (San Sebastián) are.

– say that something is old / pretty / pleasant. But not new / ugly / or unpleasant.

– say “you are the boss” and “long live the Basque Country.”

I also watched the movie Spanish Affair (this is the English translation) that is a very funny comedy about Basque stereotypes. It’s available on Netflix, and I highly recommend.

I passed the first test with 92% (I grade myself.) The only mistake I made was the word order, so it’s not that bad.

I’m not sure I understand the tenor of this piece. If the conclusion were “let’s invest into our high schools to make sure that all kids learn about science” or “let’s make sure everybody has access to an afterschool science program,” it would make more sense. But the way it is, it sounds more like “the kids we have right now are defective; let’s bring in a better model that conveniently fits an easy stereotype.”

I’m giving a lecture on Tuesday on how the plan, hatched in the XIXth-century Argentina, to displace the local population and bring in “better”, more hard-working, neater and more civilized folks from elsewhere worked out. Short answer: not that hot.

Also: it’s not a big favor to immigrants either to write this kind of article. It’s so boring to be seen as any kind of a walking stereotype, even a good one. Do you know how many times I heard, “Ukrainian?? You must be so good at chess!” I don’t play fucking chess! I’m hopeless! And I’m sure not every Indian immigrant kid is good at science.

I know, I know, what can anybody expect from such a source? But you don’t think I read Forbes, do you? I only read it because two well-meaning folks forwarded it to me / tagged me with it.

How rich people entertain themselves, or in the forest of enchanted broccolis. Doesn’t get much better than this. If it’s a parody, I don’t want to know because it’s too good.

And this is how the rich broccolis gate-keep to ensure that no undesirables come too close to their enchanted lives.

I’m loving my FB parenting group. Today, a woman shared that she and her husband are using this great parenting system on their 3 and 5-year-olds. They learned it from a friend who works at a correctional facility and is implementing it with the inmates.

I finally bought a borscht bucket.

10.5 quarts.

I normally use this tiny 5-quart thing, and it’s pathetic. You’d think that 2 adults and 1 toddler only one of whom is Ukrainian could make a 5-quart pan of borscht last for at least 3 days, but it evaporates in this house. I have started resenting my family for devouring my borscht before I have had time to enjoy it.

So now I’ll just make it in this bucket, and I’ll hope it will last me enough. There is the concept of the 3-day borscht, which is that borscht tastes best on the third day after cooking. Now I will finally find out if this is true. Of course, the rule is mostly for meat-based borscht while mine is very vegan. But still.

Klara is a very good eater, which makes me fortunate in this way, too. She is the kid who yells “Mommy, I want broccoli!” at a restaurant, making me feel real proud as the patrons stare at me in shock. The only problem is that she won’t eat the same thing two days in a row, even if it’s something she really loves. She is like her Dad. The concept of leftovers is alien to her. So I get to cook a new meal every day whether I want to or not. It’s very unfair because I’m totally into leftovers. Everything tastes so much better three days later. But I’m alone in this in my house.

Yesterday, she was telling me about the upcoming trip to Florida. “I go to the beach (pronounced as ze bitz) with my Mommy, my Papa and my prunes (she loves prunes.) I take off shoes, I take off socks, I play hide toes in sand. I go restaurant, I eat manjuicy (mango lassi) and fish pakora. I no scream on ze bitz. I scream in the zeem (gym.)” It’s really cool that she can tell these long, complex stories.