Kodwo Ink

Soon after college, I started carrying around a print-out in my wallet. It was a print-out of a Gye Nyame, a very popular Adinkra symbol in Ghana. I wanted to get a tattoo of the Gye Nyame, and thought that by carrying around the print-out, I would eventually have the nerve to get it done.

I didn't know too many people with tattoos in college; I don't know if it was a generational thing (it seems like every college student today has tattoos), or if I just happened to know people who were kind of prudish about that sort of thing. Because of this lack of tattooed friends, I didn't really have anyone I felt comfortable asking about the tattoo process.

So, I carried around my print-out in my wallet, for several years.

I turned 25 in June 2001. I happened to be in Vancouver for that birthday. I was in an odd transit from the place I had called home for seven years, Michigan; to the place I would call home for 8 years, the San Francisco Bay Area. The transit included driving to Oakland, flying to Vancouver, staying there for a month, then 6 weeks in Massachusetts, 2 weeks in Baltimore, then back to the Bay Area.

In Vancouver, I was taking a class, and met some cool people. At some point, I let it slip at that I always wanted to get a tattoo; I told them about the print-out in my wallet, and that was it - one of them immediately told me I had to go to "the best place to get a tattoo in Vancouver". She said she expected to hear back from me about it by the next time we had class, otherwise she would drag me there herself.

I went to the tattoo place the day after my 25th birthday. The guy working there had that stereotypical tattoo artist look, with the big loops in his ears that had stretched out his earlobes, a few tattoos, a shaved head, and he was really skinny; he was a really cool guy. He looked at my print-out, said he had a better one in the back (it was much better than the copy I had been carrying around for several years), and wanted to make sure I wanted to go through with it. I set an appointment for the next week, when I got this.....Gye Nyame, means, literally, "take God", or "God is great". I've never taken the literal meaning to heart. To me Gye Nyame means be humble, there is something out there more powerful than you. I like my meaning, and I've tried to live by it.

In 2006, I turned 30. I had been itching to get another tattoo, another Adinkra symbol. This time I wanted to get a Kwatakye Atiko, a symbol for bravery and valor. I had been having a number of problems with my ankle that year, a recurring injury from soccer. I played through the injury time and time again, aggravating the injury on, at least, a weekly basis. I decided to get the tattoo just above that troublesome ankle. I was in San Jose at this point, and the tattoo artist I went to was no where near as nice as the guy in Vancouver, but he was good, and I got this....
Yesterday, I got my third tattoo. This tattoo means more than either of the previous two did, but I wish I wasn't getting this tattoo. I'm getting this tattoo in honor of my mother.

Last Christmas, with mother's health beginning to fail her, my younger sister, Emily, decided to get a set of necklaces for the women who are direct descendants of my mother. She got 5; one for each of my sisters, one for each of my nieces, and one for my mother. It had a design on it that looked pretty simple and I asked what it was. She told me it was a Tabono, an Adinkra symbol I had never heard of; a symbol of strength, confidence, and persistence.

When my mother died, I knew I had to get a tattoo of the Tabono, because, in my eyes, my mother was one of the strongest, confident, and persistent people I know (she might have been a little too persistent about some things, to be honest). I told Emily about this, and yesterday, on the day when Ghana beat the USA in the world cup, we got similar, but not identical, tattoos.

I don't know if this will be my last tattoo, but I would like to think it is. I would like to think the last tattoo I get is the most meaningful, not one that I got because of an itch I had, or one I carried around on a ratty piece of paper in my wallet for several years.

USA, the football nation

American sports fans are fickle. Second place is always forgotten and I think, in the end, that may be why the USA will never warm up to football (the kind actually played with your feet). America is a long way from being number 1 in the world in that sport and US sport fans are too impatient to be fans of a sport when they don't win all the time, or in this case, where they don't win at all, on the world scale.

In the aftermath of USA beating Algeria, when there were pretty big news stories about the win, videos posted on youtube, and people I know, who no nothing about football, all of a sudden becoming fans of a team they know little about, the US became a "soccer nation", for a few days at least.

Don't get me wrong, I was jumping out of my chair when that goal in stoppage time went in, but to be honest, I was doing it out of the excitement of the goal; I would have jumped out of excitement if Algeria had scored at that time, too. It would have been a thrilling win, regardless of who won the game at that point.

I was surprised by how much coverage football got over the next few days and even though I'm happy the sport I love most, was getting so much exposure in this country, I was left with a series of what ifs...

What if Robert Green, the England goalkeeper, had not let a goal in by the US, thus changing the points/goal differential scenarios for the US. If everything else had remained the same, would there be such hype about the US beating Algeria? or would anyone really care?

What if the disallowed goal against Slovenia would have counted. All else remaining the same, how much would Americans care about the Algeria game? The Algeria game would now have meant less, and probably nowhere near as many people would have stuck around to watch the 0-0 affair into the 90th minute.

What if the US was beating Algeria 3-0, 80 minutes into the game (which easily could have, and some would say should have, been doing at that point in the game); would everyone all of a sudden jump on the US soccer team bandwagon?

Personally, I don't think so. I think if any of the three would have happened, there wouldn't be the frenzy over football by non-football followers, and there wouldn't have been the let-down, when US lost to Ghana. America was celebrating a moment, not celebrating the team.

In my opinion, the USA-GHA game should have ended 2-1, or possibly 3-1, in favor of the USA, but the Ghanaian goalkeeper was on fire. I think football, like hockey, can turn on the strength of a goalkeeper. The Ghana goalkeeper was excellent, the USA goalkeeper was just okay, and in the end, I think that was the difference in the game.

Where does US soccer go now?

I go back to my first sentence. American sports fans are fickle. I have heard almost no one congratulate the US on getting to where they did. Yes, I realize they could have gone further, but at least acknowledge the comeback they were able to go through to win their group when getting to the knock-out round was in doubt; acknowledge that winning their group for the first time in 80 years was an achievement. Instead, I've seen (mainly non-football people) complain about how it sucked that the US lost, and, in effect, whine about it.

How far did these fans really think the US was going to go? Did they think the US would have gotten by Uruguay? Past many of the other world class teams? I don't know. What I do know is, the US lost to Ghana four years ago, so the assumption that they would get by Ghana this time (which I heard people say, even after they lost to Ghana yesterday) was a ridiculous assumption to make.

As someone who has loved the game of football for all of my life, I hope it is able to grow beyond AYSO and adult leagues, and can grow to the point where college teams get at least as much coverage as college lacrosse teams. Sadly though, I do not see that happening in a long, long, time.

So I hope American sports fans can become less fickle, and leave behind the mentality where second place is forgotten, much less only getting to the round of the 16 in the World Cup.

Global Citizen

Customs officer: So you were born in Nigeria?
Me: Yeah.
Customs officer: How did that happen?

A lot of smart-ass answers could be given at this point. I could've gone with my grandfather's line: "Because I wanted to be close to my mom when I was born" all the way to the birds and the bees response: "When a man and a woman love each other...."

I didn't go with either of these, of course; I just said "uh....my parents lived there at the time."

This was a conversation I had a few months ago, upon returning to the US from England.

I'm a global citizen, more so that most people. I live in a country I was not born in, was born in a country neither of my parents were born, and will be moving to a country where I have no family.

Even though people talk about the world being smaller, there are still many people who don't go very far from their roots.

When I lived in Michigan, almost everyone I knew was from the state and planned to stay in the state after college - I was neither from there nor wanted to stay there after college. At the time, I thought it was odd for people to not want to move away from the place they'd always been, but I've come to realize that I may be the odd one.

Many of the Californian students I taught at De Anza didn't seem to have any desire to leave, even the Bay Area, much less the state. Mind you, living in the Bay Area is probably considered a nicer place to stay than Michigan by most people, but still....

We went to Ratingen, a suburb of Düsseldorf, to visit some distant relatives of Lauren, a few weeks ago. I was surprised to see how close all the members of the family lived to each other. Cousins would hang out on weekends on a regular basis, because they lived in the same town. Grandparents could drop by anytime to see their grandchildren. I've only lived in the same town as any of my cousins for the last three years I lived in Nigeria; I've never lived closer than 600 miles to any of my grandparents.

I guess it might be me though; my sister lives only a few miles from my dad, who can see his granddaughter pretty much any time he wants.

Why do I bring all this up? Lauren was offered a job in Edinburgh, and it looks like we're going to be living there for the next several years. Who knows, maybe one day, we'll have a child who has a similar conversation with a customs officer, as they travel the world.

Lauren and I, in Edinburgh

The Non-Food-Blog Food Blog

I know a few people who have food blogs; they write about a certain type of food they made, maybe put the recipe up, some pictures of the finished product. While I like these people, food blogs don't really appeal to me, mainly because I'm not a food person. I'm so not a foodie that there have been days where I wonder why I'm getting a migraine, then realize I haven't eaten all day and it's now 5pm.

That being said, this blog is about food. I'm not going to blog about how to make a caramel covered whatchamawhozit or whocaresallini with basil sauce, but I will talk about food. Ghanaian food, to be more specific.

I've been eating a lot of Ghanaian food since I came to Towson in March. Before anyone says something like "oh, you're doing this to feel closer to your mother" let me say that that is not the reason for my recent Ghana food consumption. It's because it's easier to come by Ghanaian food in Baltimore than in either San Jose or Oxford. You can't get Abenkwan base at the local Sainsburys and the last time I checked, Safeway did not stock shito.

In the process of looking for cheap flights to Ghana, I discovered that there is stretch of road in Northern Baltimore where there are three West African stores in less than 1/2 a mile. Two of these stores are Nigerian, so I haven't really gone to those, because everyone knows that Ghanaian food is better than Nigerian food. I have gone to All in One, the Ghanaian store, several times since being in Towson.

Having better access to ingredients, and just for my own food education, I've decided to try an make more Ghanian food while I can get it. So far, I've made Red-Red, Fufu, and several stews.
I grew up eating Ghanaian food - Red-red, Fufu, Kenke (which I actually don't like), and Garri, with palm nut soup, groundnut soup, kontombre, and other stews I can't think of at the moment.

Kontombre I made, with boiled yam

I always liked Ghanaian fare to typical US food - I didn't have pizza until I was 12 and to this day, I'm no fan of the classic mashed potatoes and gravy - it does nothing for me, and has no flavor.
Several weeks ago,I made Fufu for the first time. Real Fufu is hard to make. It involves taking boiled (West African) yams or plantain, and pounding them.

As a kid, I knew Fufu as "pounded yam". Technically, Fufu is pounded plantain, but no one seems to differenciate. According to my dad, my mother stopped liking Fufu when she was old enough to be asked to pound it, and I can see why. It's a lot of work, but I never understood why my mother would pound it for the rest of us, as she ate un-pounded boiled yams.

I (thankfully) didn't have to pound the Fufu I made, because we now live in a world with Fufu mix - not as good as the real thing, but I'm not about to start pounding yams and plantains, and don't have the large mortar and pestle needed to do that in the US.

Lauren and Affie making fufu

I've also been eating Ghanaian bread on a daily basis. I know I've mentioned this in some blog post in the past, but there's no bread like Ghana bread. The bread I get from the All in One Ghanaian grocery store is better than any bread I have had in the US. The thing is, the bread in Ghana is SO much better than the bread at All in One. I feel like the day is not complete if I don't eat Ghanaian bread and I'm already not looking forward to the day when I don't have such easy access to it.

Ghana Bread

I have grown to really like the owners/workers a the All in One Store. They always greet me so warmly and ask how my dad is doing, and how plans are going for our trip to Ghana. In Ghana, even though my family is always welcoming to me, non-family never treats me with genuine kindness, and I've always felt less Ghanaian in Ghana because of that. In this store, I feel like I'm Ghanaian, which is great. It also is this cool feeling of being in two parts of the world at the same time, like walking through the Asian grocery stores in the Bay Area - in the store you're surrounded by everything foreign, but look out the window and see America.

Ghanaian food will always be my first food of choice; I just hope that in the future it can be part of my diet a little bit more than it has been over the last 15 years.

Robert Shirley

Today would have been my grandfather's 90th birthday.

I've always felt this bond with my grandfather, partly because I was named after him; my middle name is Robert.

My fondest memories of my grandfather revolve around a trip I made to visit my grandparents, when I was in college.

He took me to an Optimist Club meeting (he was a big Optimist Club guy). It was me and a bunch of retired guys, and they were all so eager to talk to the 20 year old college student. My grandfather looked so proud.

We also went to Red Lobster (the only time I've ever been to Red Lobster). He insisted I get a piece of Oreo cheesecake, after eating a big lunch. I did, because he was so insistent. I got sick after that, and haven't been to Red Lobster since. Anytime I see a Red Lobster, or an Oreo cheesecake, I think of him.

He also said something to me on that trip I will never forget.

Most people don't say "wow, you look like you dad", because I don't particularly look like him. On that trip, as I was sitting in my grandparents' living room, talking about whatever, he, out of the blue, said "you know, when you smile that way, you look just like Larry". That was the first time anyone told me that I looked like my dad, and it meant a lot to me that my father's father was the first to say that to me.

My grandfather was a quiet man, but you listened to him when he talked, not because he was my grandfather, but because what he said usually was something to remember, or important. I'd like to think I'm that way also. An MBA professor of mine told me once that he wished I talked more in class because what I said, the few times I spoke, was important for everyone to hear.

In grad school, a couple of years before my grandfather passed away, I yelled at a co-worker for her being annoying. Several people came up to me after and said they were so glad I did that, because she was getting on everyone's nerves, but when you get the quiet guy angry enough to tell you to shut up, they listen.

I never heard my grandfather yell at anyone, and I can't imagine what that would sound like, but I know if he did, everyone would listen.

Thinking of you, grandpa Shirley, and here's to hoping they "let us in the Lotus Inn".

Emily and Veronica, with Grandpa

Mother's Day

My mother and I (1976)

This is my first Mother's Day without my mother. I realize though, that the last time I spent Mother's Day with my mother was 1994, before I went off to college, so the holiday has always been a call, where I say "Happy Mother's Day" and then going on to talk about other things.

I don't think my mother really liked Mother's Day, at least she always seemed to bring up how much she didn't want us to make a big deal about it.

Every year, in late April, I would be talking to my parents on my weekly Sunday call to them, when my mother would say something like "Don't get me anything for Mother's Day this year, I don't want anything, expect peace on earth." I always had this idea of getting my mom a globe with peas glued to it, you know, "peas on earth". I feel like my dad may have given her something like that at some point, for some birthday or holiday.

Peas on Earth

This request every April was always followed by one of the following: me saying "it's too late, I already got you a gift", or (and this was more common) her comment would remind me that Mother's Day was around the corner, and my mind would start to race, wondering what I could get for the woman who wants nothing.

This year, as most other years, I didn't realize Mother's Day was coming, but this year, I didn't have my mom to remind me; I had my dad. I had no idea when Mother's Day was until my dad mentioned last week, that he needed to get a gift for my sister, celebrating her 3rd Mother's Day. I've seen cards in Target, ads for Mother's Day brunches, but it never occurred to me, like almost every other year, that Mother's Day was approaching.

In a way, I'm glad I can never seem to see Mother's Day approaching because then, maybe I won't feel the pain of not having my mother around on that day, when I would call, like I did every year, and say "Happy Mother's Day", and talk about the day for 10 seconds, then move on to talk about other things.

Like I said, I don't think my mother really liked Mother's Day, and she wouldn't want us to spend too much time making a big deal about it.

My mother and I (2007)

Extra! Extra!

A few weeks ago, I was looking for a temp job and a place to play soccer. I found a place to play soccer, but the temp job was more elusive.

I then came across an ad on craigslist (one of the best sites in the world, in my opinion) looking for soccer players to be in a movie about the life of Jay-Jay Okocha. It was soccer, it was temporary; 2 birds with one stone. Thus began my stint as a featured extra in a movie.

Day 0 - The "Audition"

I had to drive 30 miles to a soccer complex to try out. I thought 20-30 people would show, but there were 8. I actually thought I was at the wrong location until the director showed up. Asking people, who probably have jobs, to show up on a Monday at 10am, for the possibility of making very little money doesn't bring out tons of people, I guess.

The movie required 3 groups of players - members of a German club team, members of a Nigerian team, and members of a Turkish team. The players chosen to be on the German team would get paid, everyone else would not. Four of the eight who showed up to the tryout were black, 3 were white, and me. The director said "all the white guys will be on the German team, all the black guys on the Nigerian team". I asked about me; he said "you're with the white guys". Apparently, I can pass as white, or some non-black ethnicity on a German club team - one of the few times in my life being mixed has been an advantage. We were told to be on set (the soccer complex 30 miles away) at 8 am the next day.

Day 1 - The cold and the rain

At about midnight, I got an email saying we had to be there at 8:30 the morning of the first day of the shoot. It was cold and rainy that day. "It rains and is cold in Germany", said Gil, the soccer choreographer. He had a point - we were supposed to be in Germany, but that didn't make the day any more enjoyable.
We were under the kind of tent you see at flea markets, with sides put up around 3 sides. This didn't do much to stop the wind. A gas-powered space heater was put into the tent, which we (some much more than others) gathered around. One guy suggested we get a giant blanket that we all wrap ourselves in - that's not the kind of thing to say to a tent full of soccer-playing guys; everyone kind of gave him a look after that suggestion.

I was involved in 2 scenes that day.
The first involved me playing defense, but not getting the ball away from the players with the ball. This is not natural. Even though I mostly played forward and midfield on Red/Blue Storm in San Jose, I feel like I'm best as a defender, and being told to defend, but not take the ball away, was frustrating.

The other scene I was in is pictured below:
In this scene, one of the stars of the movie Jimmy (who's a really cool, down-to-earth, guy), is getting out of his gear after practice. I was sitting on a metal bench, wearing shorts, with one of my cleats off, in 45-degree weather redoing the scene at least 5 times. Each time, I would start untying the second cleat, taking it off, stand up, and then put on track pants. I loved those track pants because they were the only leg covering I had had all day. The thing is, every time "cut" was said, I had to take them off again, back to the metal bench, with my shorts on.

The day ended right after that scene was done. I left for home at about 6, and I don't remember a hot shower feeling so good.

At 2 AM, I got an email message telling me to be on set at 7:30 the next morning.

Day 2 - "We're talkin' about practice, man" - Allen Iverson

I got to the set at 7:30 that morning. I did nothing until after 9. I don't know if this is a movie thing, or a this movie thing, but I learned that being there an hour late really meant you were early, and being there on time meant you were crazy to lose sleep and make the 35 minute drive to Bel Air. Of course, most people were there when they were supposed to be, but things never seemed to happen until much later.

We filmed practice on Day 2. Before we could film practice though, we had to practice practice. Practicing practice doesn't take any less energy than actually practicing, so jumping over things and doing high steps doesn't seem any easier after the 6th or 7th time. After that, the cameras started rolling and we had to do it "for real". I was exhausted, and realized how much older I was than some of the other soccer-playing extras.

We also filmed some reaction shots to the coach. If I am to get a close-up in this movie, it will be in this scene. The frustration I had in this scene came when I was told I was nodding "no" when I should be nodding "yes", to a question, whose obvious answer was "no". I kept nodding "no", because that would make more sense to anybody except the person who told me to nod "yes", and there were no complaints.

The only time my voice may appear in the film happened on that day - I shouted "Goal!", after Jimmy (I never can remember his character's name) scored a goal in "practice".

At 5:15, we (the soccer extras) were told we would be needed for one more scene. We sat and waited, and waited, and waited. At about 6:30, we were told to get ready, at 6:55 they decided to scrap the scene and told we could go home. An hour and half a sitting around....for nothing. I began to wonder about the organization and planning ability of the filmmakers.

The late night email came again, a little earlier this time - 12:30 am; we were asked to be on set at 7:30 on Day 3.

Day 3 - Everybody Quits

I arrived on the set 30 minutes late because I knew I wouldn't miss anything by getting there on time.
I got there to find very few people around, nothing set up on the field for filming, almost no one from the crew, but actors were ready to go. I went up to the soccer extras, wondering what was going on - a bunch of people, including the assistant director, had quit. The AD had a bunch of people who worked under him and they were all gone too.

Needless to say, the day started slowly. I had told myself I would leave if nothing had happened by 10 (two hours after I had arrived). Stuff started to happen at 9:30. People picked up the slack, and it ended up being the most productive day I witnessed on the set.

We got a new AD, a soccer playing AD, and filming seemed to go smoother and quicker than it had the first two days. He seemed to have the attitude of getting things done and moving on, and it worked. The director was barely on set that day, and, to be honest, I think that's why things went so well that day.

The scenes I was involved in that day revolved around an argument that the main character (played by Emeka Ike) has with a teammate, on the field. We again had to fake-play soccer. Because there were so few players, the entire scene had to take place in the penalty area of the field, without any attempt to score a goal. Can you say unrealistic? Looking back on it, I think it should have taken place anywhere but in the box, since being close to the goal didn't have any real bearing on the scene, but who am I to talk? Just a lowly featured extra.
We got out of there reasonably early that day, at about 6 pm. The soccer players would not be needed the next day, so it felt like the first Friday of the school year, when you know you won't have to go to school the next day. I was eager to get home that day.

Day 4 - The Day Off

Day 5 - When 11 hours = 45 minutes

Filming was now was moving to Coppin State University. We were told to be on set at 8:30. I got there at about 8:45 and there seemed to be a number of people around. We were supposed to be filming game sequences today, so there were a few new extras to fill out the crowd - not enough to fill out the crowd however, because 5-6 people are not quite enough to fill a soccer stadium, or a section of a stadium, or one of the bleachers in the section of the stadium.
We sat there until 10:30. Then a call came in; soccer players were not needed until 2, then the soccer choreographer came by; soccer players would not be needed until 3. Thank goodness for sisters with cars - mine came and picked me up, and I went back home.

I was back at the set at 3:15. My sister, brother-in-law, and niece hung around, possibly to be used in the crowd scenes. They sat around for a while with me and left at 5:30, feeling that they had better things to do with their time. At 6:30 we were asked to go to wardrobe. Finally, I thought, we'd be filming a game sequence. Nope - we filmed another practice scene. At 7:30, we were told we were done for the day. The total amount of time I was in costume was 45 minutes.
No one seemed to know what time we were supposed to be on set the next day, so I went home. I got home that night at about 8:15, and got a call at 10:30, letting me know that soccer players would not be needed the next day. We would get a call in a few days, I was told, to film some bar/club scenes. I asked if I could be given a more specific date; the person on the other end did not know.

Days Since

A couple of days later, I saw this on craigslist:
I got an email from the casting assistant that day, letting the cast know that filming would be put on hold for the next two weeks. I emailed her back, asking when we would be getting paid for the work we had already done. She said that was one of the reasons the film was put on hold; to sort out that kind of thing - who should be getting paid, and how much. It seems to me that kind of thing should be sorted out before filming started.

A few weeks ago, I posted a blog about being in limbo. I deleted it because I felt like the point I was trying to make wasn't getting across. My experience with this movie very much echoes the limbo I have been feeling in my life over the past 6 months.

When I left the set each day, I was never sure about when I would be wanted on set next, getting early morning emails telling me to be on set only a few hours later. When I was on set, it was never clear to me when I would be needed to do anything.

It has been a week since I heard anything about the movie (though I did hear through backchannels that the production will be moving to LA). I don't know if or when I will be needed to do anything more for this movie. I don't know if or when I will be paid for the work I've done already. I don't know if or when this movie will ever be shown to an audience.

While people may like working in film, it's not for me. I don't like limbo, I haven't liked it for the past several months in my real life, and haven't liked it for the past few weeks in my fake one.

I like knowing what I'm doing in my life and when I'm going it - I'm the kind of person who starts planning a class several months before stepping into the classroom (as I'm doing now for a class that starts in late June).

So I sit here again, as I sat here several weeks ago, only now I have a new experience I'm not sure I enjoyed or not. I just hope that some day, I have something tangible to show that I was a featured extra in a soccer movie.

I am my mother's only son

My blog posts are a way for people to get to know the "real" me; not your teacher, your colleague, your teammate, your classmate, an acquaintance, or your friend's husband. I like to think my blog posts come from a personal space, that many readers didn't know about before.

That being said, I'm not ready to go there for this blog post; not yet at least.

My mother died on March 21.

I was hoping that this blog post would be a chance for me to write about what was going on with me, both physically and emotionally in the weeks leading up to her death, and the days since. Though I have started to write that blog, it will take me some time to complete. I very much enjoy writing blog posts, but that one still feels too raw; I am overcome emotion after writing just 1-2 sentences.

I hope that posting will come, because it is something I really want to share, but for now, I have a video.

This was me at my mother's funeral. The audio didn't come out very well and would appreciate any help/advice on improving the audio.

"My name is Jefferson Kodwo Robert Shirley. I am my mother's only son"

What do those who can't teach do?

Is it bad of me to not want to do something I'm supposedly good at?

In the Fall of 1998, I was in my first semester as a graduate student instructor when I was observed for the first time. The observer said I was a born teacher; that day changed the path of my life. The thing is, I never wanted to teach before that day, and there have been many days since then when I have felt I was not in the right profession, somehow. Like there is some other Sliding Doors version of me doing something different.

I don't really want to teach while in Oxford, but everyone keeps saying "you shouldn't have a problem finding a job teaching math(s). Math(s) teachers are needed everywhere". Because of this, I have applied for some teaching positions.

One school asked me to come in and teach on Friday for 20 minutes, followed by an interview. Because of the lack of real interest I have of teaching in the UK, I didn't prepare very much. I figured I would use compound interest to develop the number e (non-math people can ignore the last sentence).

I taught, had the interview, found out the job starts in mid-April, when I'll be in the U.S. So I said I hoped they found someone good, but if they needed a volunteer to help out in the school, let me know.

They offered me a teaching job. One of the teachers who observed me said she was "blown away" by my teaching. To be honest, I don't see how anyone could be blown away by teaching I did that day.

Apparently, a relatively inexperienced teacher had to take on some additional classes several weeks ago and had been overwhelmed. They wanted to know if I could take over 2 of his classes (12 hours a week) for the last 2 weeks of the 12-week term. Most of the time would be spent reviewing what the students have covered during the term.

I was offered the job less than 48 hours before they wanted me to start at the school. I should have said no then and there, but I didn't. Instead, I took the 7 small textbooks they gave me and said I would look through the material.

A few hours later, I realized I should have said no earlier. One of the classes was filled with physics formulas that looked familiar; I had seen them in my physics classes - 15 years ago. In addition problems were worded very differently from what I was used to, leaving me wondering what some questions were actually asking the student to do.

I then looked through the materials for the other class. It had material ranging from what I learned in middle school, to 2nd semester calculus. While I can teach all of this, it was unclear how in-depth one could possibly get covering this material in 12 weeks - much less review all that material in a week and a half before a big exam.

I decided then that I didn't want this job. Students were going to be taking exams in two weeks that would have a lot to say about what universities they go to. I don't think the American with no experience teaching mathematics in this country should be the one to lead their review for these exams, when he had less than 2 days to prepare.

I emailed the school, letting them know that I would simply need more time if I were to try and wrap my head around the English mathematics curriculum. Part of me felt bad for the students - maybe I would have been a better teacher than the one they had, but I can't believe that someone in my position would be any better than the teacher they have been working with for the past several weeks.

I also felt, I shouldn't put these students (who I don't know) ahead of myself, to do something I don't really want to do, just because I'm supposedly good at it.

The Oscars

It's Oscar week again, and like I have done for the past several years, I'm ranking the nominees.


One of my favorite scenes of the year
It's a little tougher this year, because the Academy has upped the best picture crop to 10. Needless to say, seeing 10 movies is more difficult that seeing 5. Amazingly, I had seen 6 of the 10 before the nominations were announced, but had to figure out how to see the last four in Oxford without spending money. I used somewhat illegal tactics to see the last 4, and thus didn't see them in the theater.

Here are my rankings, from first to worst.

The Hurt Locker was my favorite movie of the year. I would have felt that way, even if it didn't get a best picture nod. It was kind of buried in the early summer crop of movies, so I was somewhat surprised to see it receive the accolades it has at the end-of-year awards. I usually am not a big fan of war movies, but this one really got to me; the tension the movie creates was great, but what I liked even more was the love the main character had for his job. It kind of reminded me of me (except the whole bomb defusing part that I don't have to do on the job).


Inglorious Basterds wasn't on my radar for some reason, until my friend Jason raved about it (I'm sure it's his favorite movie of the year). Another summer movie that was very good. If you don't like violent movies, don't see this, but if you like phenomenal acting, Chrisoph Waltz can't be beat. He gave the performance of the year, in my opinion. If he doesn't win the best supporting actor Oscar, the entire academy should be shot by Nazis.


Precious brought me to tears. This was a tough movie to watch because it reminded me of a few of the students I've had over the years. While Christoph Waltz gave the performance of the year, Mo'Nique gave the female performance of the year. A scene where she confronts her daughter's social worker was fantastic. While the movie as a whole was very good, the ending of the movie did leave me a little bit disappointed.


Avatar is the most technically amazing movie ever made. The special effects blew me away, but I just didn't like the story. It was too simplistic of a story, but I guess when you're spending gazillions of dollars on special effects, you can't expect a spectacular story also. Still, I was impressed with the special effects enough to say it did deserve a best picture nomination.


I liked District 9 a lot more than I thought I would. I liked the story, which I didn't think I would going in, I liked the acting of the title character, who starts and ends as two completely different people, literally. I kind of think he should have gotten a best supporting actor nod, even though he was clearly a lead actor. I don't think this movie would have gotten a nomination if there were 5 nominees, but it was in my top 5 of the list presented.


Up in the Air was over-hyped. Was it good? Sure, but not as good (in my opinion) as all the ads made it seem. I had read the book a few weeks before seeing the movie, and that may have tainted my view. The story diverged enough from the book, even introducing a major character that doesn't exist in the book, to leave me disappointed. I did really like the scenes with the people, many of them non-actors, reacting to losing their jobs and how they have survived since. I would love to see a movie of just those interviews.


Up was cute. Cute movies, in my opinion, shouldn't be nominated for best picture. Was it good? Yes, but it didn't have an affect on my like other movies. I happened to see this on my birthday last June, but it just didn't stick with me. I'm sure it will win best animated picture, as it should, but it's out of it's league in this crop.


So I have to admit, I liked The Blind Side more than I thought I would. It was the last of the 10 nominated movies I saw (I just saw it a couple of days ago) and I had been putting it off because it just seemed like a sappy "based on a true story" movie. It was that, but it was good. Should it win best picture? Absolutely not, but it was better than I expected.


I didn't realize that A Serious Man and A Single Man were two different movies until a few weeks ago. A Serious Man got the best picture nomination, and it was just alright for me. It had it's moments, but I'm sure I won't remember much about it in a month. Like some other Coen brothers movies, I thought it was trying too hard to be cool, like you needed to be in to get it. I guess I didn't. As odd as this sounds, the ending of this movie reminded me a little of the end of No Country for Old Men (another Coen brothers movie). I loved that movie, I didn't care much for this one.


I think the premise of An Education kind of creeped me out; 30-something man going after a 16 year old is not really my idea of a movie I'd want to watch. I know it got a lot of accolades, but I just didn't think is was more than "good", except for Alfred Molina, who was very good. I was somewhat disappointed, because I thought I would like it more than I did.