If you head on over to Twitter and scroll through #BestMuseumBums, you’ll see museums around the world competing, cheekily, for having the best butt in their collection.

Here’s the best bum in the Waltonen collection. It belongs to Princess Cashmire.

Teaching online has been eventful, which is ironic, since it doesn’t look that way. Watching me teach now is seeing me sitting at my computer, typing. It’s only when you might catch a glimpse of me with a medieval jester puppet as I make a video that an “event” is evident.

There were struggles when I had to teach my first fully online courses at Davis and when I had to convert my Los Rios semester classes to online mid term.

Right now, I’m teaching my first fully online Los Rios course.

I’m better prepared, both through the few months of experience I have and through the course I took for certification to teach online.

I’m grappling with a problem I assume is common. Many of my community college students aren’t doing any of the readings or watching any of the videos. They’re just going to assignments.

And then they fail the assignments because they didn’t do the reading.

The Davis students last term learned their lesson quickly. They either started doing at least some of the reading or they dropped.

My current students aren’t learning that lesson quickly. I can post announcements and videos and write comments on their assignments all day long, but if they aren’t doing the readings/viewings, then they aren’t seeing those corrections.

In class, I could pull them aside. I could make an announcement to the whole class that they would at least be in the room for.

I’ve managed to find ways to pull most of them aside, virtually.

Except one student.

She added the class with a PTA the second day. And I honestly don’t think she’s read anything.

Not the syllabus or schedule. Not the announcements. Not my comments to her. Not the textbook.

She’s failing, not surprisingly.

Over a week ago, she wrote on an assignment that she was confused because the dates kept changing.

I haven’t changed a single date.

The schedule I give the students is complete at the very start of class.

And we stick to it.

It takes an emergency–and not just a personal one. The only time I’ve changed due dates in recent memory was when school closed because of the fires.

So I wrote her a note back, telling her that I wanted to figure out where the confusion was so we could get her on track.

And then I remembered that she didn’t read my comments on her submissions. So I sent her an email through Canvas and an email the regular way.

No response.

She didn’t disappear, though. She keeps turning in failing assignments.

It’s been a week. She’s gotten a second email (I know she uses her email–she emailed me twice at the start of term) and a phone call.

Yes. A phone call. (Their numbers are on the roster in the Los Rios system.)

She didn’t pick up, but I left a message that I wanted to get in touch because I wanted to help her figure out the assignments and the dates.

No response.

I don’t know what to do now.

If this were a movie, I would find a way to find her, neglect my family and my other students, and babysit her little sister, while helping her complete her assignments.

This movie idea–that we should all reach every student all the time–is damaging and pervasive.

At every conference, it’s reiterated that if our students can’t pass our classes, it’s because we’re doing something wrong.

This is an excellent example of how that’s not true.

But I still want to help her.

And she’s not going to let me.

As I’ve mentioned before, I do extra credit book clubs with my students.

After one book club, one of my students recommended The Healing of America, so I made it our book for the next quarter.

Reid lays out the problems with American healthcare, which is fundamentally about our paradox. We spend more than anyone else, but we’re definitely not healthier. And not all of us have access to care. We let people die of manageable diseases.

Reid takes his own imperfect body around the world to look at how other developed nations handle care.

Along the way, he addresses common American misconceptions about the rest of the world, about too-long wait times, rationed care, etc.

I was surprised when my 104F students told me that Reid’s book surprised them. They had believed all those myths.

I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. I didn’t know much about how the rest of the world worked when I was their age, but I thought they might know more about their field–and how fucked up it is.

One smart, tightly-wound student managed to shock me, though. After the other students talked about how they would definitely want to work in systems where insurance companies couldn’t override doctors, etc., one student said she was against affordable healthcare.

“If anyone can come to my office–if it’s not expensive to see me–then they won’t respect my degree and how much work I’ve done.”

Another student pushed back.

“So you would rather work in a system where someone could die because they couldn’t afford treatment?”

“Yes.”

Many years ago, I wrote a post about a guy who scared me off poly dating, P.

He pressured me into defining myself as poly (in his terms) and delimiting my dating choices very quickly into the relationship.

In Iceland, Melissa and I talked about it, and I knew I had to break up with him.

He had been wanting to come over when I got home, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to handle that.

Part of the problem of our relationship was the endless nagging and pressure, and I know I couldn’t cope with breaking up with him in person at my house after about twenty-four hours of travel, since that would also be an invitation for nagging and pressure.

And so I called him on a layover to tell him not to come.

(I apologized for doing it over the phone, multiple times.)

He has gotten in touch a couple of times over the years, and I’ve told him I’m not interested in resuming a relationship.

He got in touch with me again this week.

He says it’s not because he wants to date me, but because he misses me. I reminded him that we dated for a few weeks half a decade ago, that we were never intertwined in each other’s lives, and that I hadn’t enjoyed most of the few weeks we had spent together, so I didn’t miss us.

His attempt at reconnection did give me an opportunity to check something, though.

Whenever there’s a breakup, a relationship, a conversation, the two people remember it differently.

We construct a narrative that we think is true.

So I asked him what his narrative about our breakup was.

He said that he’d misinterpreted my asking for space to mean not to contact me much when I was in Iceland, and that I’d broken it off because we didn’t talk much that week.

He said that’s what I implied when I called him from the airport.

I remember mentioning us not talking much that week, but it was toward the latter middle of the call. And that’s not at all why I broke it off.

In my memory, during the layover call, he was trying to convince me to still let him come over. He said that we had to decide, as a couple, that a breakup was the thing to do. And I said breakups could be unilateral decisions.

He said he also wanted to talk to me because he’d taken a job in Reno, and we needed to figure out how to maintain our relationship, like maybe I would go to Reno one or two nights a week.

The Reno thing made me feel even better about my decision. There was no way in hell I was going to drive to Reno all the time.

A reference to not talking much while I was in Iceland came up here, as I pointed out that we obviously weren’t in the kind of heavy duty relationship he kept insisting we were in if he could take a job in Reno without mentioning it to me for days and days.

None of this really matters now, of course, but I wonder what narratives I have that are wrong.

(Can any of them be wrong, fellow postmodernists, when there is no truth?)

In a breakup a few years ago, I witnessed the construction of an alternate narrative. I was trying to explain to someone that I wasn’t happy, that I hadn’t been for a while.

“At first, I thought it was because I’m working so hard, but then I realized it was the relationship that isn’t working for me.”

“Of course,” he said. “You have been working hard. And I can see why it would be hard to be in a relationship with you working so much.”

And I just shut up.

He didn’t ask me what about the relationship didn’t work.

He had his narrative.

And I had mine.

I tried listening to S Town this week. I wasn’t captivated.

There was nothing wrong with the storytelling.

It took me a while before I figured out what was wrong.

I’m from a place like that.

S Town, for “Shit Town,” is Woodstock, AL, which is four hours north of where my stepfather lives (and where I did K-12). It’s four and a half hours north of my ancestral home, which we call Pinelog, as it’s surrounded by Pinelog State Forest and Pinelog Creek. Pinelog’s not a town–we have to use the post office in the closest town, Ebro (famous only for its dog track), even though they’re technically in another county.

When I heard the subject of S Town speak, I thought, yup. Sounds like a bunch of my cousins.

The subject’s home is hard to find. So’s the one I grew up in. Google maps can’t see it through the tree cover. It blends in with the rest of the forest, the rest of the swamp.

One of S Town’s main industries is logging. Same for where I’m from.

S Town, in other words, was very familiar. Too familiar.

And that’s why I couldn’t get into it.

The producer is astounded to hear people openly using racial and homophobic slurs, when they know they’re being recorded. I’m sure most of the audience is too.

And all I could think was yeah, that’s part of why I left.

It’s exotic to the NPR audience; it’s not at all exotic to me.

Still, if you ever wonder what my accent might have been, give S Town a listen.

Apparently, some of the people who refuse to wear masks during the pandemic are carrying cards around, which threaten businesses if they refuse to serve the mask-less person.

The card claims that the person holding it has a disability and thus doesn’t have to wear a mask.

Those of us who are disabled (and those of us with critical thinking skills) know that’s not how disability accommodations work.

If someone really couldn’t wear a mask, the accommodation wouldn’t be to simply let them in; it would be to make sure they can still access the goods. Thus, they might give their shopping list to an employee and have them brought out.

My students who need accommodations don’t get to just skip the exams; we figure out a way for them to take it with modifications.

However, you don’t need to know ANY of this to know that this card is bunk.

Some of this information is true. That is the ADA number, and the ADA does have guidelines and penalties.

However, this card is a lie.

The DOJ symbol is not authorized; this card is not government-approved.

The person who would show this is hoping you won’t look closely.

If you did, you might notice that the word “poses” is spelled incorrectly, and that government agencies don’t end in “.com.”

What is FTBA, anyway?

It’s the “Freedom to Breathe Agency.” I went to their website, so you don’t have to. There’s almost no information, just a picture of two kids enjoying the sunshine and some vague claims about freedom and America. It’s not clear at all that it’s about flouting pandemic policies.

But that’s what it’s about, and it’s counting on its visitors knowing that.

They’re not good at clarity, not good at spelling, not good at logic, not good at science, and not good at empathy.

But they’re a great example of why evaluating sources is essential!

I was catching up on my Colbert this afternoon, wanting especially to see the interview with Jon Stewart. They talked about the election, the virus, and our overdue reckoning with institutional racism.

As part of the latter, they drew attention to how two white guys were talking about racism, and how some white people can only hear about racism from other white people.

Jon mentioned that he, Jessica Williams, and Jordan Klepper had a bit in which Jessica would talk about racism, Jordan would shut her down, Jon would restate Jessica’s point, and then Jordan would agree.

The best Daily Show with Jon Stewart video that does this is “Helper Whitey,” a discussion about the confederate flag. (ooooh, timely too)

Karlissa actually tackles this ridiculousness in our new book. When discussing ethos, we should remember that some people, those not inclined to agree with you, will dismiss you for having too much ethos. Too many whites don’t believe black accounts of racism. Too many men don’t believe women’s accounts of sexism.

And that’s why we all have to speak out. I’ve seen white students’ resistance fade a bit when I talk about white privilege, just like I’ve seen some men’s shoulders go down when another man embraces feminism.

This shouldn’t be how it is.

But it is.

Speak up; speak out; speak loud.

This isn’t going to surprise anyone who isn’t a Fox News viewer, but it’s worth noting.

This Washington Post article discusses three scientific studies, showing that Fox News viewers, regardless of age, race, sex, party, were less informed and more likely to believe conspiracy theories about the virus.

While many of the examples in Karlissa’s book on sources are funny, this newer one is definitely not.

The lies disseminated by the network are directly affecting people’s lives, literally. Viewers were less likely to follow government guidelines for safety. One study “provides evidence that those behavioral differences are contributing to the spread and mortality rate of covid-19 in certain areas.”

Last week was my summer vacation, the only week until Christmastime when I don’t have one or six classes running.

Here’s what I did:

• Deep cleaned the downstairs, including taking every single Simpsons piece off the shelf and dusting it.

• Appeased my neighbor, while upsetting the cats.

Several months ago, a neighbor asked me to keep Thoth inside. He sometimes poops in her garden. He’s friendly, so he likes to say hi, which is why she thinks it’s him.

I’m not saying it’s not him, but the neighbor thinks Thoth is the only cat who ever goes into her garden, which I find hard to believe. We have many strays in this neighborhood. And unlike Thoth, who approaches every human, the strays don’t like you to watch them use the toilet.

We’ve been keeping Thoth inside for over twelve hours a day, encouraging the neighbor to spray him, to use cayenne, etc.

She sent a message recently to ask if we’d walled him completely off yet. In the last three months, she hasn’t seen him, but there’s been poop in her garden once.

Once.

In three months.

So I paid hundreds of dollars last week to have a task rabbit guy come into my house and put up chicken wire around the patio fence. Thoth is like a velociraptor in Jurassic Park. He’s testing the fence, finding the weaknesses. And he has found one, which we have to fix somehow.

He’s also crying and pouting. He really loves saying hi to the neighbors, which I know cause they text me from blocks away to say he’s hanging out with him and that he’s wonderful.

He’s beloved in the neighborhood, except for that one neighbor.

• I got myself a present.

A decade ago, when I lived in a place with a yard, I had a hammock, and I loved it.

I don’t have one now. Instead, I have a few feet of dirty concrete surrounded by chicken wire.

But I bought myself a hammock, and the redwoods give a lot of shade. Lying on it with me has been the only time Thoth is happy in the last few days.

Now that home is home, the office, the classroom, the restaurant, the gym, and cat prison, there might as well be a work hammock.

• I got a Covid-test, treatment for my bursitis, and an endoscopy. The third thing took way too long, and took too much out of me, and my hand is still terribly bruised, but as least all the tests were negative.

• I judged Prized Writing essays, I answered emails, I did some last minute prep for the class that started this week.

• I watched Keith Lowell Jensen’s stand-up.

• I saw my seniors do their stand-up comedy send-off fundraiser. And felt so proud I got teary-eyed.

• I made ribs three different ways. (Chinese-spiced sticky ribs were the best.)

• I let myself have the night off from cooking on Sunday.

• I anticipated my very first CSA basket ever, from the UCD Student farm, which I picked up yesterday.