Chris Singh

After enduring two days of pointless meetings there was finally time at the end of the second day to set up my classroom. This year I have to admit my AP finally kept her promise and gave me a sizeable room which I will meet all my classes in. Of course this almost certainly means that she'll be stopping by every chance she gets. Really, this isn't much of an issue for me she usually likes my lessons, at times I think she likes them too much, always asking for a copy to keep, even when it's not a formal visit. OH CRAP! I'll be busted for having rows again, guess I'll have to double horse-shoe it for appearances sake. Actually, the double horse shoe doesn't look half bad, it even gives the room a nice collegiate feel. Wow, there is actually a lecturn in this room and I think it will be great for modeling public speaking with my sophomores. I'll leave it on the side of the room for now, it might look too formal if I position it at the head and center of the class configuration. Yeah it'll look fine next to my desk behind the door. Sweet, the last occupant left me some tape, I'll be outta here as soon as I put up some of these posters. It's sad that I have to do this, but I guess it creates an atmosphere. This room is unlike all the others I had previously inhabited in the building, there are no chipping paint spots to cover up. Six posters, two of which are of animals, I don't like animals, they must have been on sale or in the pack when I bought them. Animals in a classroom I think remind me of a zoo, I never liked going to the zoo when I was a kid, and thanks to Prof. Chung I now understand why. I liked that class, the people were mostly interesting, the subject matter was fairly complex but I'm sure I got a few brain wrinkles from that experience. Ok, I'll put one poster on each wall and I'll give the animal posters to one of the newbies. Nice, my room is finished, before I leave I'll just sit in the back and take in the view. I like this room. Do better rooms make better students? teachers? schools? MICE! WHAT THE BLEEP?!* Perfect, so I got what I wanted and then some. Did she know? I should have known. Did I scream? Why are people coming into my room? Of course, my little fury friends just ran into the hallway. Is this good or bad? Should I be insulted that the mice left my room? Is this foreshadowing my students reactions? Nah...I don't like animals it's better that they are gone.

David Lodge's, Thinks turned out to be a useful read. I used the Mary the Color Scientist scenario to talk about point of view. I was a bit apprehensive about whether or not they would be interested in the passage, much to my delight they were. They say every teacher get nervous the first day, or do they? Actually, I kept thinking if my little fury friend would make a guest appearance during class, he didn't. Why does it have to be a "he"? There was one response in which a student said yes, and talked about anti-depressants, I thought it was a really insightful comment.

Ever had that dream where you're falling, spiraling out of control? It happens to me almost every night, except it's not a dream, it's life, for me anyway. By the time dusk rolls around I feel my body covered from ear to ass with a warm damp thickish blanket. The shit is everywhere around my eyes, on my chin, and up in my nostrils. I think some of it might even be my own. I take in so much when I feed that it forces my body to push everything else out of my orifices, at once I am ingesting and secreting fluids, deliscious and disgusting all at the same time. By the time I shake it off and find the cave I barely find a new spot on the ceiling to hang from, although it's probably more likely that I dangle. My constant fluttering probably makes everyone else upset but fuck'em I can't help them and I don't want to. After a few days I usually end up having to find a new spot in the cave to hang out in once they realize that I'm the one that drinks too much. I'm always looking for something and somewhere to get a new fix, and somehow I usually find it or it finds me.
When they first meet me I'm the type of bat they feel sorry for, but they shouldn't. My hunger comes first and sooner or later they find out. That warm velvet-like liquid is the only thing I'm concerned about. One time a roomate felt sorry for me and shared some of his stash with me because I'd been flapping my wings like a ding-bat and crapping non stop. Well the noise and smell must have done the trick so he let me have some of his warm wet booze, but once I started drinking it's like I become a beast unable to control myself. So when he tried to push me away with his fore-claw I got to thinking that since I'd eventually have to find a new cave anyway why not take all of his drink. As soon as the thought crossed my mind I felt my claw ripping into his soft warm, slightly hairy belly and then my mouth followed. It was exactly what I wanted and I had it and felt so complete. As we fell to the bottom of the cave I knew I needed help because although he was deliscious, I nearly drowned in a pool of shit at the bottom of the cave (disgusting and dangerous at the same time).
The sound of countless wings fluttering growing louder and louder and a steely wind starts to hit my body. Every second I feel like I'm going to break and then I realize my left fang is gone and as I lift off to take flight I feel a slight tear in my right wing where it meets my claw. Then as I become more conscious the sensation of pain echoes throughout my body with each flap of my wings. I need to get out of here but I don't know where to go. Dried blood or shit is in one of my ears. I think I can make it but then all of a sudden it starts to happen again. The next thing I know I'm falling, spiraling, and out of control. This is no dream. It's what it's like to be a bat (addicted to blood).

Memories of things we have done or think that we have so greatly influences us who we consciously are or try to be. After reading Lodge's Thinks, the concept of qualia keeps reminding me of another novel I read years ago, Written on the Body in it the narrator claims that the measure of love is always loss. I've always found this to be an accurate measure of something that should be unmeasureable. What about other types of qualia, motivation for example. How could it be quantified? As a teacher and a student I would have to say I'm torn between two answers, the first being the fear of failure and the second the hope of satisfying a basic psychological need for power through accomplishment and recognition. Having a constant wedgie sitting on the fence between these two ideas is as one may imagine not all together convenient. Lately, I think it can be broken down into more basic terms, actions and consequences.
A few years ago, the first summer I taught summer school I ended up teaching and learing something about actions and consequences. I was teaching English 8, a senior elective for students who needed to make up a credit in order to meet their graduation requirements. The session ran for thirty days and in that time I gave two tests and assigned one take home essay. By the end of the term, most of the kids passed, and a few failed. Of the latter, almost all of them were habitual cutters and did no to little work. However, there was one student who was straddling the line between passing and failing.
Student X was generally a nice person and if I could have given her a grade based on her personality she would have passed. Instead I had to rely on the work that she submitted, one exam that she passed narrowly, one that she failed by only five points and the rough draft of an incomplete essay. This presented me with quite the dilema. Afterall, she was a nice kid but I felt that she didn't really earn a passing grade. Ultimately, I decided to give her a failing grade for the course which meant that she would not graduate and would be unable to start the college which had accepted her, in the fall semester.
When September came I almost hoped that she would appeal to me to change her grade but I never saw her again until almost a year later. By then she was working as a waitress at the diner a few blocks from the school, where everyone goes. At first I didn't recognize her but as soon as I did I hoped that she wouldn't be my waitress. Much to my discomfort she walked over to my table and warmly greeted me and asked to take my order. Immediately I thought maybe she was doing it on purpose because she figured that I would be uncomfortable. Maybe she didn't. Either way I felt bad for both of us and wondered if the entire situation was more my fault instead of hers. It's upsetting seeing someone you (think) you know working in a (what you imagine to be) menial job. The first words out of my mouth were, 'I guess this is kinda awkward.' To which she pleasantly responded, 'Hi Mr. Singh, what would you like to get?' Her politeness made me feel guilty. When she returned with the food I gave it a once over just to try and make sure there were no visible signs of anything I didn't order. There weren't and the food tasted pretty good. I left a fat tip.
Afterwards, I kept wondering why couldn't I have given her the benefit of the doubt but then, she was the one who neglected the assignment, nevertheless, I knew she was working on it and based on what I had seen her essay would have been a good one. There was a lesson to be learned, there are consequences to our actions. Her lack of motivation was her own undoing. Judging from the diner experience I figure I would go back when I got a chance and check if she was in college. Of course by the time I went back it was a few months later and she was no longer working there. Eventually I found out that she had enlisted in the army. My initial thoughts were that the discipline would benefit her but, everytime I hear about the war cassualties I am filled with despair.
There is no way of knowing if she would have joined the army had she passed the class but the fact that I still wonder about it now motivates me to give students the benefit of the doubt. Actions and consequences.

Lately, I've begun to wonder about whether or not "true" consciousness means being aware of another or even the possibility of another. If we look at this notion of consciousness as a response to stimuli or as a reaction to our environment how then could a single being be fully aware of itself without another to validate its reaction. Certainly, we react to other aspects of our environment, weather, food, shelter, etc. but without another conscious being how is it different from say the way an animal interacts with its surroundings?
Last night as I was watching Matrix Revolutions, it struck me that consciousness has to operate on an equal scale. For example, Neo and Agent Smith can only achieve self awareness as a result of their interactions with one another. In a sense it is through conflict that they establish a meaningful dialogue that enables each to know that they know who they are, and what they are capable of.
This makes me think of Tarzan, who was raised without human interaction, in the wild. Is it possible for him to be "truly" conscious if all he has never engaged in meaningful dialogic exchange? How would he know that he knows (for certain) who he is?