Showing posts with label school. Show all posts
Showing posts with label school. Show all posts

Monday, January 11, 2016

A Common Problem

Lately, I’ve been seeing a lot of memes and other references on Facebook to the new insanity of common core mathematics. It seems a lot of people share my opinion that this new math is utter pointless. I’m thinking it’s a good thing no one had enough stupidity to unveil common core to the world when I was in school. I just wouldn’t have done it. I had a hard time following the rules as it was; especially things like showing my work.

For some reason, my teachers wanted to make sure I actually understood how to do the problem. That was okay for problems that were a little involved but when it came to basic equations, I just wrote down the answer. And yes, I sometimes got marked down for it—that is, until I learned it didn’t really matter what I put down to “show my work.”

I found that scribbling anything on the paper was enough to satisfy them. So, of course, I had some fun with it. I’d switch problems, that is, show the work for the wrong problem, but then put the correct answer. Or, I’d show the numbers for an entirely different problem, one that hadn’t been included on the test. And sometimes, I’d just write down random numbers and then scribble over them so it wasn’t entirely legible.

And out of all the times of doing this, which was most of my schooling career, I never once got in trouble—they never even mentioned it. Maybe they knew I was playing games and chose not to play along, I don’t know. Or, maybe they saw that I did know how to do the problems, and arriving at the right answer was actually the important part.

Despite my refusal to always follow the “rules,” I liked math. It was straightforward and logical—unlike other subjects—and I usually did it in my head. In later years, for the more complicated problems, I would do the simple parts in my head, maybe writing down those answers so I could remember them, and then do the next computation in my head again. So, I really had nothing legitimate to write down for the problem as a whole—although, I did once suggest to my high school teacher that I could just draw a picture of a brain and call it showing my work. Thankfully, he had a sense of humor!

But something tells me my tricks wouldn’t have worked with common core. It seems the teachers of that are more interested in showing the work than getting the right answer. And my stubbornness would have dictated that I not participate. I know, I would have probably received a failing grade, which would have perfectly illustrated my point of the absurdity of this “new and improved” system—getting the right answers and still flunking.

But then, the only evidence of my flunking would be the final grade on the report card, right? And in keeping with the spirit of the correct answers being irrelevant, I assume it would then be perfectly acceptable for me to switch my grade. On second thought, maybe common core math wouldn’t have been so bad after all. ~


Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook and paperback on iTunes, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, and Smashwords.  Amazon Profile - www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS. Bruce A. Borders is a proud member of Rave Reviews Book Club.


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Monday, January 19, 2015

Profile Of A Sculptor

As a kid, I used to love school field trips. Aside from getting out of school, the trip itself was usually something fun and memorable. After one such outing to a museum, and without much forethought, I decided I wanted to be a sculptor. I’m not sure how old I was at the time, around eight or nine I think. I do remember being quite impressed by the statues and figurines on display. Fascinated, really. Everything looked so real, so exact, so perfect.

Back at school, we watched a film on how sculptors did their work. The art of sculpting, it said, was intensive and required skill, both in imagination and artistic ability. Well, I immediately discounted the possibility that it could be difficult. I figured since I could draw, and had never lacked for an imagination, then I could certainly be a sculptor. How hard could it be anyway?

At home that afternoon, I found my dad’s tool box, picked out a couple of chisels, along with a hammer, and went searching for a rock. A big rock. Time to make my mark on the world!

I spent a few hours chiseling (pounding with the hammer until I got a chunk of rock to fracture and come off) and then studying my progress. I hadn’t decided what I would make beforehand. I think I was hoping something would start to emerge and then I’d just go with that. Well, as you can imagine, things didn’t go quite that way. After several hours all I had was, well, a rock. A smaller rock than I’d started with, but still just a rock.

Okay, I thought, maybe they’d been right. Perhaps sculpting was indeed hard to do.
A few years later, I tried my hand again. I was older, had a better idea of what to do, but while there was a little improvement, the result was about the same. And so, although I hate to give up, hate to admit defeat on anything, I realized that maybe sculpting wasn’t for me.

Then, after high school, I went to work at a dental laboratory where we fabricated dental appliances; dentures, crowns, bridges, etc. The process is a little drawn out but it begins by designing the prosthesis in wax. Generally, a pre-formed mold is used, which is then customized to match the existing teeth, gums, and facial features. This is accomplished with various tools, one of which is a wax carver, also known as a sculptor. And sometimes the appliance is made from scratch. It was probably two or three years before I discovered that what I was doing was sculpting.

Remember how I said I don’t like giving up or admitting defeat? Well, I suddenly found a new inspiration. I made all sorts of things; guns and holsters, cars, birds, little faces and figurines, anything I could think of. Mostly, I stuck to wax sculptures but some of the stuff, I chose to make out of stone or metal. And surprisingly, they all turned out! No, my “art” will never be displayed in a museum and it’s definitely not the picture of perfection but I did manage to become a sculptor—of sorts. Hmm, maybe it’s time to try my luck on a rock again.

Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook and paperback on iTunes, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Diesel Books, and Smashwords, or at www.bruceabordersbooks.weebly.com. Amazon Profile - http://www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS. Bruce A. Borders also serves as the Vice-President of Rave Reviews Book Club.

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Sunday, January 26, 2014

World's Worst Fundraiser

I’ve never won any prizes for my fund raising abilities. I do not like fundraisers - don’t like asking people for money. Neither do I like being forced to do things I don’t want to do. And, I refuse to use salesman tactics to guilt someone into a contribution.

So, when the powers that be at my small high school, decided to sell candy bars as a way to raise money, I was disinterested. And said so. Of course, no one gave any consideration whatsoever to anything I had to say.

The day the candy bars arrived, I came back from lunch to find four boxes of them at my desk. I said something about declining to participate and was told that wasn’t an option. Everyone had to take at least four boxes to sell. With a twenty-five per box count, that meant I was supposed to sell one hundred candy bars! Not a likely scenario.

I asked what we should do if we didn’t sell them all and was told to bring back any unsold candy at the end of the fundraiser. That was all I needed to hear!

The candy sat at my house for two weeks and I didn’t sell a single one. When the fundraiser was over, I returned all of them - minus the four I’d eaten! Actually, my mother had sold four or five of them, so I suppose I should say I returned most of them. At any rate, the folks at my school were not impressed.

They shouldn’t have been surprised. This wasn’t the first time I’d demonstrated I wasn’t the fundraising type. They’d tried to get me to sell a number of things - unsuccessfully. And still they didn’t learn.

A few months later, someone at the school came up with the idea of having a jogathon - a lot like a walkathon, only faster. This I could do, I thought. I did like running.

The way it worked was, instead of having a set distance; we would run around the track for three hours. Our sponsors would pay according to the number of laps completed in that time. Apparently, this new idea of a fundraiser had been designed with me in mind. Everyone knew I liked to run and despite being considerably shorter than most, I was fast and had a lot of endurance. I was then, expected to win. They even offered incentives - first through third place prizes for the most laps completed and thus, the most money raised. Bribery. That’s what I called it.

I did win - in a way - tallying up one and a half times the number of laps as the next closest runner. Everyone was excited and making a big deal out of the fact, I’d actually gotten involved. That is, until they looked at my sponsor sheet, which I had dutifully turned in as required. It was completely blank.

They shook their heads and stared at me. I’d run three hours for nothing. “You didn’t get any sponsors?” one of the teachers finally asked.

“Uh, yeah, I sort of forgot about that,” I said. “But I did participate by jogging. And,” I reminded them, “I did have the most laps.”


No, I didn’t win any prizes.

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Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books. Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, and other titles, are available as ebooks on Apple I-Pad®, Amazon Kindle®, Barnes & Noble Nook® and Sony Reader®, Kobo, Diesel Books, and Smashwords. His books are also available in paperback at most online retailers or at www.bruceabordersbooks.weebly.com. The popular Wynn Garrett Series Books are now available on Barnes And Noble® at http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/?series_id=867526 Bruce also serves as the Vice President of Rave Reviews Book Club http://ravereviewsbynonniejules.wordpress.com




Monday, October 7, 2013

Under The Knife

I used to like playing with knives. Actually, I should rephrase that; I like playing with knives - throwing them, sticking them in things, but my favorite activity is flipping and catching them. Any kind of knife will do, but the bigger the better. It’s more spectacular. I know, it’s dangerous - I’ve been told that since I was a little kid. I’ve even been accused of not being all that sharp!

I used to practice for hours, learning the differences that distance and weight of the knife would make when trying various stunts. And, since I’ve always handled the knives by the blade, learning how to keep my fingers intact - especially while catching them! Despite the concern of nearly everyone who watches, it’s really not that dangerous. It’s even a little exhilarating standing under a spinning knife! Only one time have I ended up bleeding. And I do still have all my fingers.

This is not the story of how I cut myself but one day at school - back before the insanity of zero tolerance that would have gotten me arrested - I was playing around with a butcher knife. I was showing off, seeing how many flips I could get and still catch it. One of my classmates said he’d give me twenty dollars if I could get fourteen flips. So, of course I had to try. I started with one flip, then two, and then three and so on. The step by step approach was for two reasons; first, it helped me to get into a rhythm, but also it allowed anyone observing to count with me because when the knife makes more than about seven or eight flips in the air, it’s easy to lose track.

When I got to twelve, the kid, seeing I was getting close to taking his twenty dollars, started to backtrack. I didn’t pay any attention as I was intent on getting to fourteen just to show him I could do it. It wasn’t really about the money and I would have been content to let him off. But, my teacher had been there the whole time, listening and watching, and he wasn’t so lenient.

When I caught the blade on the final flip, the teacher told the kid to pay me. Of course, this was met with much protest. But, the teacher said he’d made a deal and had to stick to it. He did give the guy a chance to get out of it though. If he could duplicate the stunt, he didn’t have to pay. I guess the kid didn’t like his chances with that because I got my money.

Oh, one last thing, in case anyone is wondering how I received my one and only cut. It wasn’t from trying some crazy number of knife flips or anything. In fact, I wasn’t doing a thing with the knife - except picking it up off the ground - right after telling my son how to always watch what you’re doing when handling knives!

Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books. Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, and Miscarriage Of Justice, and other titles, are available as ebooks on Apple I-Pad®, Amazon Kindle®, Barnes & Noble Nook® and Sony Reader®, Kobo, Diesel Books, and Smashwords. His books are also available in paperback at most online retailers or at www.bruceabordersbooks.weebly.com. The popular Wynn Garrett Series Books are now available on Barnes And Noble® at http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/?series_id=867526 See Bruce’s Smashwords Profile at www.smashwords.com/profile/view/BruceABorders?ref=BruceABorders  #BruceABorders