You Never Stop Learning

Yesterday one of my chatty students was telling me about something that happened to her over the break. She said, “Mrs. Cordle! We were at Burlington Coat Factory and I found this pink and black plaid shirt and these pink Apple Bottom jeans and…” All of a sudden she was interrupted by the student in front of her yelling something unintelligible at the top of her lungs. After listening intently for a few seconds and then reminding myself of the context of the outburst, I realized that the student was yelling, “Swaggajacka” She went on to scream, “You know I have those pink Apple Bottoms! How you gon’ be jackin’ my swagga like that?!”

And that, my dear readers, is how I learned a new word: swaggajacka, or swagger jacker if you prefer. Basically, it is a noun used to describe someone who takes someone else’s personal style and makes it there own, and apparently it is a cardinal sin or something.

My students are the only ones learning new vocabulary words in Language Arts class, that I can assure you.

Hot Dead Guys: Walt Whitman

I was thumbing through the poetry section of my 8th grade textbook today when I came across a photo of Walt Whitman I had never seen before. He looked downright fiiiine, so I figured I should pay him homage by adding a new feature here at mere musings (after all, it is my blog). So, I present to you my newest feature: Hot Dead Guys.

Walt Whitman is totally hot on a number of levels. I mean there’s the obvious literary attraction – father of free verse, neither transcendentalism nor realism, arguably the greatest American poet of all time. Then of course “Song of Myself” only gives him further hotness points. I mean, who doesn’t love an amazingly groundbreaking poem chock full of ego and attitude – just what I want in a man. Whitman wrote and spoke against slavery, so we know he had a good heart, and reportedly Bram Stoker’s character of Dracula was based on Whitman, so basically he was a pre-cursor to Edward Cullen, who is every woman’s desire. What’s not to love? I feel like the famous photo below really says it all. He’s got attitude, suave, finesse. In a word, hotness.

Women of the Bible: The Woman at the Well

It’s been too long since I published the next post in this series, and for that I apologize, but I’m finally back at it now! I’ve enjoyed studying some awesome women we have as examples from the Old Testament, but I’m ready to move into the New Testament – how about you? The wonderful aspect of studying New Testament women is that we are going to learn a lot more about Jesus than we do the women themselves, and that’s just fine with me! Let’s get started with a closer look at Jesus’ interaction with the Samaritan woman at the well in John 4.

Jesus is breaking rules and social taboos…as usual! In order to even begin to understand this story, we must have somewhat of a grasp of Jewish/Samaritan relations. They weren’t too chummy, to say the least. The note in my NIV Study Bible explains that when making the journey Jesus made from Judea to Galilee, a Jew would normally avoid Samaria altogether by crossing the Jordan and traveling on the east side. Jews wanted to avoid Samaritans at all costs, so the fact that Jesus not only chose to travel through Samaria, but also stopped at Jacob’s well and had a conversation with this Samaritan woman was extremely shocking and scandalous. The Samaritan woman herself is quite surprised that Jesus speaks to her. When he asks her for a drink, she shows her shock by replying, “You are a Jew and I am a Samaritan woman. How can you ask me for a drink?” (4:9) She has every right to be surprised, for Jewish law stated that if a Jew even so much as touched a dish, cup, etc. that a Samaritan had touched, he would be ceremonially unclean. But, as usual, Jesus has no regard for these social and religious rules. He has stopped at the well for a reason, and it is more than simply a drink of water.

Jesus knows us completely. It should be our red alert that the woman is at the well by herself at noon. To ancient readers, this would have thrown up an immediate red flag. This woman should have gathered her water in the morning with the other women in her town, so the fact that she is there by herself in the heat of the day tells us something is wrong. Jesus gets to the heart of the matter in 4:16 when he tells the woman to go get her husband. She replies by saying that she has no husband. Jesus’ next comment must have taken her by surprise, for he knew more about her than she had probably bargained for. He says, “You are right when you say you have no husband. The fact is, you have had five husbands, and the man you now have is not your husband. What you have just said is quite true” (4:17-18). Ah! Now the mystery is solved. This woman is a social outcast, living in adultery, and is therefore forced to gather water alone when no one else will be at the well. This is the only way she can avoid the criticism and harassment of the other people in her town. So now, a new element is added: not only is Jesus talking to a Samaritan woman, but he is also talking to a social outcast. But of course this is the beauty of Jesus: He knows us completely, and loves us in spite of everything.

Jesus has and is the Living Water. Jesus initially baffles the Samaritan woman by talking to her about “living water.” She is completely confused by this reference, and implores him to tell her where she can find this living water so that she does not have to come to the well any more. Here we have a major communication mix up! The woman wants living water in the ancient Middle Eastern sense: a spring of flowing water that she can use for drinking, cooking, etc. If she could eliminate her daily trip to the well, then she could thereby eliminate the harassment and condemnation she experiences at the well. But of course Jesus is not talking about living water in the Middle Eastern sense – he is talking about himself and the eternal life that can be found in him. He says, rather cryptically might I add, “Whoever drinks the water I give him will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give him will become to him a spring of water welling up to eternal life” (4:14). My footnote explains that the expression Jesus uses – “welling up” – is a very vigorous one, with a meaning similar to “leaping up.” Jesus is speaking of powerful, abundant life, life that is eternal and not just limited to our earthly one. The woman wants this water so that she can avoid her daily trip to the well, but what Jesus wants her to realize is that if she accepts his living water she will have something greater than freedom from condemnation by her peers – she will have freedom from condemnation by God, through life in Christ.

The location of worship is irrelevant. The Samaritan woman seems to become uncomfortable with the conversation at certain points and attempts to change the subject. Her first attempt at this is to begin some form of religious debate with Jesus concerning where is the correct place of worship. She entices him by saying that the Samaritans believe they must worship on a mountain, while the Jews claim that the appropriate place to worship is in Jerusalem. I feel as if she must have pressed Jesus’ button or something, because he totally blasts her with his response. I can just picture him getting so agitated with her. He says,

Believe me, woman, a time is coming when you will worship the Father neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem. You Samaritans worship what you do not know; we worship what we do know, for salvation is from the Jews. Yet a time is coming and has now come when the true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth, for they are the kind of worshipers the Father seeks. God is spirit, and his worshipers must worship in spirit and in truth (4:21-24).

Does his response confuse you? Let me try to translate: it doesn’t matter where you go to worship God. In order to truly worship God, one must keep in accordance with his nature, which is a spirit nature. The Samaritan woman did not need to be getting caught up in minor details like the best location of worship. Instead she needed to get her spirit right with God – then true worship could take place anywhere.

Jesus will silence our distractions. The last part of this story is so awesome! Jesus has been round and round with this woman, throwing her perplexing propositions and arguing religion, and she decides to just end it all with what strikes me as a cynical cop-out. She says, “I know that Messiah is coming. When he comes, he will explain everything to us” (4:25). In other words, “Let’s just quit talking about this because until the Messiah comes, we won’t have any answers.” But the Samaritan woman doesn’t get the last word; Jesus does. He tells her, “I who speak to you am he” (4:26). Wow. I wish I could have seen the look on her face. Was she confused? Did she believe him? Or did she just blow him off as some lunatic? We’ll never know, because unfortunately the story ends there with the disciples coming and crashing the party. But I simply find this ending so powerful. She is making another feeble attempt to distract Jesus, turn the conversation away so she does not have to deal with being uncomfortable. Jesus completely throws the book at her, though, by declaring that he is the Messiah she has been speaking of. It’s somewhat ironic, isn’t it? She wants to avoid this controversial religious discussion and avoid talking about her life of sin by putting it off until the Messiah comes (presumably an event in the very distant future), when little does she know she has been talking to him the entire time. There’s no point in saving this discussion for the Messiah – she’s already had it! That’s the power of Jesus. Confusing sometimes? Yes, most definitely, but always comforting as well. We don’t have to wait around for Jesus or worry about religious laws dictating who we can talk to or where we can worship. We have a living Savior that has taken care of all that, and all we have to do is live in that liberating knowledge and worship him in joy and adoration.

A Post About Something I Know Virtually Nothing About

It’s in the title – you’ve been forewarned. I’m spewing thoughts on something I know virtually nothing about. A couple of weeks ago Ryan and I were visiting his parents, and his mom indicated that she’d like Ryan to look through his old closet and to see if there was anything he’d like to have before she cleaned it out. We spent a good hour going through things, reminiscing about old video games and laughing over old pictures. But in the midst of all the video game consoles and birthday photos were a bunch of CDs my husband had enjoyed during his middle school years. Now, my husband has never tried to hide from me the fact that he was really into rap during his pre-teen and early teenage years (totally shocking for those of you who know him), but as we cleaned out the closet the proof lay before me. He indeed had owned albums by several rap artists, including Puff Daddy and the Family and Coolio.

We took the Puff Daddy and Coolio CDs and have been jamming to them ever since. For me, the Puff Daddy one brings back major memories of that time period for myself, so it’s fun to hear. But listening to these albums has sparked some interesting discussion between the two of us, and put some perplexing thoughts in my head. Rap has obviously changed tremendously since the mid-1990s, but when and how did the change take place? I’m trying to figure it out.

The extent of my current rap/hip-hop knowledge is not very vast. I will confess to owning several Kanye albums, and one of Snoop Dogg’s. I enjoy some other hip-hop as well, such as Outkast, but I don’t know a lot about “gangsta rap” (thus the title of this post). I teach a lot of bright young minds who consider themselves aficionados on the subject, and I’m genuinely trying to learn from them. But as Ryan and I were talking in the car yesterday, reflecting on rap “greats” like the Notorious B.I.G. and Tupac, it sort of hit me like a ton of bricks how much it seems like rap has changed. When those aforementioned guys were in their prime, they were living in and creating a rap culture full of gang warfare and writing and rapping lyrics that reflected that. And of course they were both struck down in their prime due to gang violence. When we look at the rap stars popular today, that culture has all but disappeared. From what little rap I listen to, it seems like the topics of choice are things like women, alcohol, partying, and, most common, a lot of “I am so great! Look at me! Buy my album!” complete with a fair share of bashing the competition and giving shout outs to those that are cool. As my husband put it so well yesterday, rap now has gone completely commercial. I’m just wondering to whom or what we attribute this shift, because it seems like a pretty major shift to me.

These are the weird thoughts rattling around in my head today. But in the tradition of my dolphin post, it’s very white for me to be critically blogging about rap anyway

Turning a New Leaf and Getting Really Confused

For a variety of complicated reasons that I will not be detailing, I have decided to ditch Facebook as my primary modus operandi and switch to Twitter. So far I am totally confused by Twitter, but excited about this much-needed change. So, if you’re on Twitter, look me up! @noelcordle

Stuff White People Like: The Dolphin Edition

There’s a little website many of us know and love called Stuff White People Like. If you’re like me, you love this site because it hits the nail on the head and makes you laugh out loud, while making you realize how stupid you are all at once (yes, I am guilty of many of the white-isms featured in the list). Well, I enjoy this website so much I thought I would try my hand at my own white-ism, inspired by true events that took place today during the last day of my South Carolina vacation.

Today I realized that white people love dolphins. We decided that it would be a good idea to take a Charleston Harbor boat tour today, in order to be out on the water and see many of the sights (already a pretty white thing to do, I will admit). One of the sights we were promised to see was not actually a place, but was dolphins swimming in the water around us. Almost as soon as we set sail, Captain Fred alerted us to a couple of dolphins swimming near the boat. There were probably 40 people aboard the Carolina Belle this afternoon, and as soon as the captain made this announcement they nearly all simultaneously jumped up from their seats and rushed over to the deck railing, cameras in hand, snapping away at the fleeting dolphin tails and fins. Ryan and I just looked at each other, trying to figure out what the deal was. And then I just couldn’t control myself: I burst out laughing because it was just so…white!

Yes, white people love dolphins, and really dolphins have a lot going for them that make them so popular within the white community. They are just exotic enough that white people don’t want to risk missing a single photo op, plus they are cute and friendly, so white folks young and old adore them. They are reportedly extremely smart, so white people are fascinated by the possibility of a dolphin being able to be trained as well as man’s best friend, and of course you can’t forget the exceedingly white phenomenon of swimming with the dolphins, often available at very white tourist destinations. And I dare not forget the 1960’s television sensation Flipper, adored by white people nationwide, best captured by this classic opening sequence:

I love the last part where the dolphin is just sitting there looking annoyed, spitting water out of his mouth. But that is neither here nor there. The point is, white people love their dolphins, and I have the photo to prove it.

Here we can observe the typical young, white mother (trying her best to achieve the Kate Gosselin hairdo, might I add) who I can guarantee has no idea what she saw aboard the Carolina Belle because she spent the entire 90 minutes trying to get that perfect dolphin photo op.

Race – it’s a beautiful thing, isn’t it? So go ahead and embrace your whiteness, if that is your given race (and if you aren’t white, be glad!), and embrace a dolphin while you’re at it. You know you want to.

It’s Not Natural

One thing you have to know about me in order to try to understand my twisted psyche is that I am extremely deer-phobic. Maybe there is a word for this particular phobia – I just don’t know what it is. On second thought, there probably is not a word for this phobia because I think I am like one of three people to have it, so why bother?

I fully acknowledge that it is seemingly irrational to be afraid of deer. But no matter how I try to convince myself they are cute, harmless little creatures like Bambi, at the end of the day they still scare the pee out of me. I could literally write about this phobia for paragraphs and paragraphs, but I will spare you the gory details. I will, though, say that this fear developed late in life (around age 21) and I have only Ohio to blame. See, I grew up in the area where I now live in Southeastern Kentucky. Although I know there must be deer up in the hills and hollers, judging by the fact that deer hunters have much success, I have never really seen many at all. In 2006, when Ryan and I moved to central Ohio, it was an entirely different story. The part of Ohio we lived in is extremely flat, and driving around the Ohio countryside after dark on chilly autumn evenings I quickly learned that the deer is a predator to be much feared. I will never forget the moment I became truly afraid of Bambi and his kinfolk: I was stopped at a stop sign at the top of a small hill on an Ohio back road. As I looked ahead of me, preparing to advance my car, I saw two pairs of glowing eyes crossing the road in front of me. It literally sent chills up my spine! For the first time in my life I realized that there were deer, all around me, just waiting to throw themselves in front of my vehicle, kick me in the face, and leave me for dead. But the creepy part was that although they were there, I could not see them. And that’s what haunts me still.

Ever since that moment at the stop sign, my fear has spiraled out of control. Highlights of my trauma include an entire herd of deer stampeding toward me through an Ohio field and a deer carcass on the highway turning its head and looking at me as I drove past (I swear…). I truly do have nightmares involving deer – usually something involving me driving late at night and deer lining each side of the road just staring at me with glowing eyes. I thought those were just nightmares, my imagination running wild, but that was until I decided to vacation in South Carolina.

The condo we are currently staying at is completely gorgeous and has a great location right by the pool and golf course, but what I am rapidly learning is that senior citizens aren’t the only ones who love pools and golf courses along the beach: deer do as well. This gorgeous gated community is straight out of my nightmares. Every evening as we have driven home from going out for dinner, we have watched the deer line the roadside and look at us in that haunting way as we drive past. Ughhhh! These deer are even extra terrifying, as they are so tame and unafraid of people (aka vicious maneaters) that they just walk up into people’s yards and hang out, giving you a look like, “Hey, what’s up?” It’s not natural, and it’s freaking me out.

I go on vacation to get away from the things that stress me out in life. I thought I had left all my stressors behind in Kentucky. Little did I know that deer phobia is impossible to escape. Now I’m finding it impossible to relax. Those deer are probably out in the yard watching me sleep at night, or enjoying some lemonade on the screened-in porch while I type this very blog post! How did deer get on this island anyway? Clearly they have the ability to swim, and if they have that kind of unknown power then who knows what else they are capable of. Ughhh! There go my spinal shivers again!

Book Review: Uglies

I’m trying to take a bit of a break from reading books that interest me in order to get up to speed on some of the books my students enjoy. I thought the first book in the Uglies series would be a great place to start, since I’d recently had one of my summer school students tell me how much she loved the series.

I would classify Uglies as a somewhat typical dystopian novel with a twist that does make an effort to be unique. The book takes place in the not-too-distant future, where civilization as we know it (known as the time of the “Rusties”) has disappeared due to us destroying ourselves through overuse of natural resources, culminating in the entire world bursting into flames when some sort of toxin is introduced to gas that explodes upon contact with oxygen…Annnnnyway, the world that now exists is very technology-dependent, does not provide a need for reading or writing, and consists of “Uglies” and “Pretties.” Uglies are people just like you and me – normal people – whom the powers that be decided along the way were ugly. So in order to solve this problem, when an individual reaches the age of 16 they undergo mandatory major plastic surgery in order to become perfectly stunning, otherwise known as pretty. Uglies tells the story of an ugly named Tally who is eagerly awaiting her Pretty surgery so that she can look beautiful and join all her already-turned-16 friends living it up in New Pretty Town. But things drastically change for Tally when she meets an Ugly named Shay who doesn’t want to undergo the surgery and has a way out. It turns out there is a group of rebels who live out in the wilderness and create an independent life without all the Ugly/Pretty nonsense. When Shay runs away to escape the surgery, the powers-that-be intervene and force Tally to go find her friend and reveal the location of the rebels before she can have her Pretty surgery.

I’m still sort of grappling with whether or not I liked this book. It’s a 400+ page book and I really was not able to get into it until around page 350! I don’t think that’s necessarily a good sign. I felt like author Scott Westerfeld spent a lot of time really getting to the action of the novel and filled many of his pages with unnecessary fluff. For me, the characters were extremely flat. When I devote 400+ pages to a character’s story, I want to feel like I really know that character, particularly when it is a story like Uglies where I am taken on a journey with that character. I can’t say I ever really got to know Tally, or any of the characters in this book. Honestly some of the minor characters shone more and seemed more developed than the main character. That just doesn’t seem right. On the positive side, I can say that the concept of Uglies was interesting to me, even though I felt like it could have been much better implemented. Many times the whole “normal people are considered ugly” thing was way too preachy for me, but I had to keep reminding myself that Westerfeld’s primary audience is teenagers who perhaps need to be reminded of such things. I did really enjoy the world that Westerfeld had created. I read a quote somewhere about this series talking about the “futuristic pop world” of Uglies, and I think that is a really brilliant way to put it. The setting of this book really shines in a way that other elements of the novel do not.

But it doesn’t really matter what I think about the book, because, as I said before, I wasn’t particularly reading it for myself, but instead as a means of previewing material in order to see if I should recommend it to students. So what’s my verdict? While I would not have a problem recommending the book to a student in order to have him/her reading something, I feel like Uglies is nowhere near great literature and there are so many better books out there I would prefer my students read. For me, the crux of the matter lies in the fact that there are books out there with a similar concept as that of Uglies which are much better written. The Giver is the first one that immediately comes to mind. These two books are similar in many ways, but The Giver is just an exquisite novel that is extremely well-written. It’s like giving someone a Hershey’s bar instead of fine, European chocolate -  I’d always rather someone have the good stuff! But I suppose the idea that I am continually coming back to is that at the end of the day I would just love to have my students reading anything, so if they choose the Uglies series then so be it.

By the way, although I was not crazy about this book and had pretty much decided I was not going to read the other books in the series, Uglies has one of those lovely little endings where it just ends, very abruptly, at a very exciting moment. So I’m now a third of the way through Pretties because Westerfeld left me hanging! I will say that so far I like it much better.

Help a Starving Artist

Okay, so they aren’t really starving, but I’m very excited to endorse a couple of my artistically-minded friends to my readers! I’ve been waiting to do this for a while now, and finally am able to! I have two good friends who each do their own photography and artwork and I want to recommend them to you!

For my Kentucky friends…

My good friend Rebekah Travis is an on-location child and family photographer who just does amazing work! Check out her photo blog. She also has an Etsy shop that is worth your time if you are looking for pretty photo prints or notecards. She is located in Grayson County, but if you are at all interested in having her photograph your family, please don’t hesitate to contact her.

And for my Ohio companions…

Cody Wood and his wife Stephanie have become dear friends of Ryan and myself over the past three years. I am very excited to recommend Cody’s photographic and artistic services to you! He recently got his new website up and running, showcasing all of his talents, so please check it out! He is a very talented guy located in Columbus.

On an unrelated note, as of 11 a.m. this morning I am on Fall Break! This time last year I wasn’t really ready for Fall Break or felt like I needed it, but this time around I surely do! I’m heading out at 6 a.m. tomorrow with my parents and Ryan for a beach vacation at Isle of Palms, South Carolina. I’m looking forward to some rest and relaxation, as well as some delicious seafood. Oh, and I’m also looking forward to finally having time for this here blog again! So look for some more frequent blogging in the next few days – that is if the promised wi-fi in our beach cottage actually does exist!

Please Excuse Me While I Rant

I just have to rant about The Snuggie. I hate this freaking thing, and I’m feeling more passionate about my hatred today than usual. First of all, if you don’t know what a Snuggie is, you must stop right now and watch the commercial. And if you do know what it is, you should watch the commercial anyway because it’s pretty much hysterical.

Here’s the thing – who decided the Snuggie was a necessity? I mean don’t we already have something that will do the same function, like, oh, I don’t know…a sweater? Or a bathrobe turned around backwards? How about your old graduation robe? Those all have sleeves and provide some amount of warmth, right? I just love to think about what prompted the creator of the Snuggie to invent the stupid thing anyway. I mean was he really so tangled up in his blanket that he couldn’t hold a baby or answer the phone? Maybe he has problems with his hands. He really shouldn’t be blaming the blanket for his ineptness.

I just feel like the Snuggie is crossing a line that I really don’t want crossed. I mean, since it has sleeves, where do you draw the line. Is it a blanket, or is it a garment? Because if it’s a garment then it’s okay to wear to Walmart, but is a Snuggie really okay to wear to Walmart? I’d have to go with no. Would you answer the door in a Snuggie? Well, maybe, since it’s a pseudo-blanket and allows you to have your hands free to reach for the doorknob, but what kind of impression would that make on the person standing on the other side of the door? It’s all so bizarre to me.

But especially bizarre is the Snuggie for Dogs, which I just discovered this evening. I’m going to have to go ahead and assert that the Snuggie is officially having an identity crisis. It was originally being marketed as a blanket with arms…or something. But I feel that once you put the Snuggie on a dog you have pretty much made it into a sweater, am I right? I mean does your dog really have a need for a blanket? No. Would you send Rover outside bundled up in your favorite afghan? Again, I think not, so why do you need to wrap him in the Snuggie? This is completely unnecessary. They already make these things called doggie sweaters that serve the same purpose. Snuggie doesn’t need to throw its absurd name around the pet market too. I hate this stupid invention!