TFA Update, At Institute: Living on Reds, Vitamin C, and Ephedrine

That is how I feel and look after some days at Institute.

TFA's summer institute is demanding, to say the least. I've finished three weeks of teaching and I'm steadily improving. There's so much to say regarding institute, that I'm uncertain where my point of departure should occur. Emotional? Physical? Intellectual?

From the moment you arrive, you are fed into TFA's logistical leviathan. Besides a few hiccups, I'm bowled over by the streamlined processes that ensure this five week program's success and the uniformity of their approach. (It's no coincidence that most of the comment boards have pluses and deltas.) The folks who staff institute seem largely on top of their responsibilities--a few exceptions notwithstanding--and are here to assist. Staffers know the stresses of institute and meet us where we are to help mold us into teachers in five weeks. No mean feat.

Regarding my school, it's best for me not to discuss it or my students. I'm teaching kindergarten in Phoenix in a collaborative group (referred to and pronounced as co-lab) with three young women. Yes, the gender balance is tipped decisively in favor of women in TFA as a whole. I've been forced to reorient my mind to teach minds that require different needs. And while I knew this before leaving, it's another beast entirely to encounter and adjust on the fly when you've taught highly functioning college students. I am apprehensive as to whether I should be teaching K. I selected early childhood as one of my highly preferred areas and I'm committed to seeing it through with earnest toward succeeding in this role. Nevertheless, the past few weeks led me to realize the full breadth of my content knowledge in what is typically grouped as social studies.

This isn't a pleasant five week vacation. In fact, an eighteen hour day with little free time is not uncommon. I did not come to grips with the demands until we were thrown into the fire. I don't know if it's feasible for CMs to adequately grasp what's coming at you until you've descended into the breach. Someone might roll their eyes at my choice of language, but there are times when institute strains even a strong person's abilities to fight simultaneous emotional, physical, and intellectual fires.

Part of me wants to quip about being institutionalized and mulling over a speedy departure. After a few weeks, a few lingering doubts remain. Diane Ravitch's comments about TFA and the forces it champions doesn't ameliorate those nagging concerns. To be frank, I am uncertain if TFA as an organization privileges team player cohesion over expressing dissension in order to operate smoothly and train (and at times discipline) us to enter this world. Quite possibly this is how they manage to function, and part of me realizes that as a body it must push in this direction in order to thrive and survive. Staffers have always allowed me to state my misgivings. Whenever I have raised some concerns, I cannot accurately gauge the reply and subsequent interactions. Further, I dislike referencing my age and experience as a way to distinguish myself from some of my colleagues, but at times it's painfully obvious as a night out with a few CMs reinforced. Regardless, I have a profound respect and admiration for the staffers I've interacted with, especially my CMA, and I have found some impressive people to chat with and who share some of my viewpoints and personality. I elected not to mention any names, and I think it's the best course of action to allow many people to remain anonymous.

So where do I stand? Anyone who knows me can well understand that flagging certainty and muddled pride are my MO. My academic training has led me to be suspicious of my activities and my personality traits reinforce that skepticism. These comments were carefully articulated and I think my concerns will dissipate once I leave this meat grinder and actually begin teaching in my own classroom once I have my style and experience fixed. The welter of emotions and push-pull factors of home and normal life leave me with mixed judgments. I remain steadfast in my belief that I can foster a great deal of good in the classroom and young people's academic paths. That unites me with my fellow CMs and TFA's vision, and those bedrock similarities bring me into the fold, however reluctant I may be.

2010 Garden

In my hustle to wrap up any lingering tasks or responsibilities, the garden was one of my priorities. Kate will shoulder the burden of watering, weeding, and watching this year. I cleared a bit more area and expanded the plot slightly. The dimensions are 12'x6' for the larger and 5'x3' for the smaller. The increased space allowed us to distribute the tomato plants better so that we do not encounter the bedlam of last year's close proximity growing. My indoor beet seeds were a miserable flop and we may sow beets, kale, and spinach seeds mid- to late-summer. For now, the garden consists of the following starters we purchased from City Floral:
Basil (2)
Cauliflower (6)
Mint
Rosemary
Tomatoes (1 Abraham Lincoln, 1 Big Beef, 4 Cherokee Purple - all heirlooms)

We also planted two rows of beans and we plan on a large yield if past performance is a guide. Here are some photos of the process from start to finish.

Clearing and trimming back vines and weeds

To everything turn, turn, turn (what a wretched song)

We spread four total cubic feet of compost, one of which was a mix of cow and compost

The plants

Compost added and graded for planting

Planting

Top shot

Cauliflower

Oklahoma Joe's BBQ and the Best Ribs I've Eaten

My appreciation for bbq often borders on obsession. That's why a trip to the Middle West was rerouted and replanned to meet my fix. We dined at what is considered one of Kansas City's best bbq restaurants, Oklahoma Joe's. Anthony Bourdain numbered OK Joe's number thirteen on his list of 13 Places to Eat Before You Die, which is an awfully strong compliment or burden to prove. (Of note, Hot Doug's also appears on this list.) They are closed on Sundays and in an already crazy trip to see family, what's wrong with supplementing the jaunt with a stop at a place with such lofty reviews? Turns out, nothing wrong at all.

OK Joe's original KC location is housed in a BP gas station. The unassuming front reveals an inside that is largely occupied by the immensely popular eatery. We waited in line and a nice woman answered Kate's questions about the menu. Kate selected an order of ribs (approximately six total), pulled pork, and an order of onion rings. I went for the brisket, pulled pork, and slaw. Add two drinks and you have a total of thirty dollars and high expectations. I'll start with the most disappointing: the brisket. When you have a plate of amazing bbq, not everything can be perfect and the mind easily settles into a comparison of relative quality. The meat was dry and seemed overcooked. It was well seasoned and wasn't insipid. From my eyes and taste buds, it missed a rather crucial element to brisket in general, fat. With that being said, my life would be better--and my waist line wider--if I could locate similar brisket in Denver.

Now on to the stunning. We loved the pulled pork and it was the best I've eaten, bar none. The ribs were the jewel of the plate and the menu. Along with the pork, these are the best ribs I've tasted in my life. The meat is tender without falling off the bone (aka a mess and a half), not drenched with sauce (aka sauce masks bland or absent flavor), and an even blend of smoke and seasoning (aka perfect). They are not to be missed and any deviation from our trip was worth the side trek. Anyone who disparages bbq does not comprehend the time, care, and attention to flavor that the folks at OK Joe's (and many other restaurants) expend on cooking these specimens of beauty. Despite entering with empty stomachs, we could not finish all of our pork, brisket, and onion rings.

By the time we left, the line was approximately thirty people deep of families and singles patiently waiting for some of the best bbq I've had the fortune of eating. On the table, they offer two basic sweet and spicy sauces and a third vinegar, Carolina sauce, sits nearby. Locals flock to OK Joe's and, as we learned, highly recommend the Z Man sandwich. A healthy pile of brisket (which is probably better on a sandwich than as an isolated entree) is topped by provolone and onion rings on a kaiser bun. If I'm fortunate enough to return, I will enter the restaurant famished and proceed to order the Z Man and some ribs to share.

Kate and I forgot to bring our cameras, so, alas, no photo evidence.

TFA Update: Don't Fear the Reaper

In one month, I will be preparing to leave for five sunny (read: blistering) weeks in Tempe. I'm applying to schools and my anxiety is growing day-by-day as I shift nervously in my seat updating the Denver Public Schools (DPS) site. There are contingencies if I do not secure a position. I am endeavoring to remain optimistic and taking comfort in the knowledge that positions will continue to open. And, no, it's not dissimulation. My next few weeks remain busy as I conclude any responsibilities with K Plus and prepare for induction and institute. Induction begins on 8 June with a week of packed administrative and team-building activities for new corps members (CMS), including dinners hosted by current CMS and a Rockies game on the last day.

TFA structures the five weeks in Phoenix to challenge CMS with an intensive schedule and work load that harnesses their driven, committed tendencies to mold them into teachers. At some point, I will be teaching an early childhood education (ECE) or elementary classroom. My preference remains for ECE even though the realities of the job market may compel me to find a position as an elementary teacher. I received the recognition of excellence from ETS for scoring in the top 15% of test takers for the Praxis II 0014 for elementary education. Part of me dreads the possibility of retaking the Praxis or Place if my endorsement advances from ECE to middle or high school.

My goal now is to post reviews of institute when time permits. TFA has not shared information of institute beside the readings and tasks in the pre-institute readings, so I'm at a loss for specifics. Kate will visit me over the fourth of July weekend for a side trip to the Grand Canyon and Sedona. At some point I will explore the greater Phoenix area when I can wedge time in to what I am led to believe is a demanding period where CMS encounter heaps of work. The dorm experience is entirely new to me. The only remote point of intrigue are the pools and an unlimited meal card. The pools for obvious reasons, and I always found a meal card fascinating since I attribute a fair amount of spending to food.

Oy. My e-mail digest from CO TFA informed me that I need to ready seven copies of my transcripts for licensing in Colorado. Between the readings and activities, I will have a busy month. I wish my allergies would let up so I could find some excitement and motivation rather than this all-encompassing fog that settles on my mind.

Joyce Appleby, The Relentless Revolution: A History of Capitalism [Kicking Ass]

Joyce Appleby, emeritus historian at UCLA, tackles a mammoth subject with a history of capitalism, and she treats it well in the 436 pages. She tries to restore contingency and insert culture into the rise of capitalism with the logic that "capitalism is a cultural force and not simply an economic one, it cannot be explained by material factors alone" and a capitalist culture could ascend only after wearing down pre-existing/medieval norms pertaining to commerce, land use, and social relations (26). In arguing this cultural and contingent interpretation, she dispatches, to varying degrees, three titans: Smith, Marx, Weber. What follows is a thorough explanation of how capitalism ingrained itself and triumphed by adaption to whatever circumstances arose as it shifted from its origin in England to the US and, one presumes based on the final chapter, China.

England's agricultural revolution--while not necessarily a direct antecedent to its more famous industrial cousin--altered society in a crucial manner by boosting harvests, detaching families from the land (sending them across the seas and itinerantly chasing labor in England), commercializing land, and producing wage labor with an attendant and subsequent appearance of consumption as a robust form of economic activity. From that initial burst, capitalism speedily conquered medieval forms of intellectual, social, and cultural stratification within England that stood as a roadblocks to its dominance. The United States and a unified Germany slid into place when England's capitalist star dimmed, with the American form exploding in a super nova that positioned it as the world's leader before World War I and piloted the unknown growth from the 1950s until stagflation signaled its death in the 1970s. After 1975, she enters mushy territory and powers through much of the 1980s to preach the gospel of the internet and globalization before wrapping it up in hurried fashion with a description of China and India. I presume she tacked on the final chapter "Of Crises and Critics" as an afterthought when the house nearly folded in 2008.

I skimmed a couple of reviews that credited her for a balanced approach that grants equal time to proponents and antagonists alike all the while shedding a triumphalist tack. That's not the book I read. In fact, it celebrates capitalism and its innovators without dwelling on those who stagger under its weight without benefiting from its liberation. Then why, you might ask, do Americans cling to this economic system? In her words, "the American public has resoundingly supported capitalism and its demands on society in part because they have not been exposed to the withering commentary of critics" (311). I would agree with that statement, and bolster it by saying that works such as Relentless Revolution contribute to that trend by neglecting capitalism's critics by portraying a flowery history that precipitated national greatness.

I wanted to like this book and spent far too much time reading it closely. The book closes with two pages answering my questions in cursory fashion on capitalism and democracy, its own inherent democratizing tendencies, or it as an economic and cultural system. I would have enjoyed a bit of theorizing on capitalism in place of the oft encyclopedic chronicling, and I cannot rip Appleby too hard for not writing the book I desired when it wasn't her intention. I am, however, able to target her cheerleading of capitalism and its adherents and innovators. Relentless Revolution would have been better had she explored the duality of capitalism (especially during and after American capitalism's efflorescence in the mid-twentieth century) that provides opportunity and pitfalls instead of dry descriptions of currency, financial innovation, and similar tedious insight into the levers of capitalism.

Appleby made one mistake between that caught my eye, even though I'm sure there are more buried in the text. It's Thorstein Veblen, not Thornstein Veblen, and the quote that follows on 188 is mistakenly attributed to Joseph Schumpeter's Capitalism, Socialism, and Democracy in the end notes and not Veblen's Theory of Business Enterprise. In fairness to her, writing 436 pages is a task that most people could not accomplish and mistakes are bound to result.

Appleby's narrative is well known but written with accessible prose, even though it elides the negatives in favor of a sunny retelling. I'm glad I finished the book and I appreciate her infusion of contingency and culture into this discussion. Would I recommend it to friends? Most likely not.

Banksy

Listening is an Act of Love

Dave Isay, ed., Listening is an Act of Love: A Celebration of American Life from the Storycorps Project.

Thanks to my mother-in-law, we received a copy of Listening is an Act of Love recently. At first blush I was unfamiliar with the book's contents and the NPR program. I don't drive often and I'm nervously connecting my ipod once I am buckled in rather than skipping around the radio pre-sets and settling on NPR. I can almost hear the gasps dripping with condescension "you don't listen to NPR and have this committed to memory?!?!" Despite that, the stories contained within Listening is an Act of Love reached my ear during the fleeting instances when I kept vigil at 90.1 FM, and I was pleasantly surprised that I had absorbed more of these vignettes than I previously thought.

The Storycorps Project is a stunning endeavor that recorded memories that run the emotional gamut from stirring to joyous to painful. Dave Isay edited a plethora of stories that range in quality and duration. He winnowed them into a tidy 270 pages based around five thematic chapters: Home and Family, Work and Dedication, Journeys, History and Struggle, Fire and Water. The book is, as the subtitle claims, a celebration of American life in all of its manifestations, be they ugly or verdant.

The subjects volunteered their time and recollections in traveling and fixed recording booths across the US that digitally captured an exchange between the subject and a facilitator or friend/loved one. The Library of Congress' American Folklife Center houses the Storycorps' recordings, along with a catalog of inestimable value and depth. Oral history, one could contend, is an example of appreciation for an oral tradition whose sinews connect us to our earliest ancestors and their transmission of history. From the WPA interviews to contemporary projects such as the Storycorps, Americans largely celebrate oral history and Listening is an Act of Love taps into this desire with aplomb. The stories are so disparate that they defy a simple review that I would compose in this space.

I walked away from Listening is an Act of Love with an improved appreciation for oral history as a methodological tool that charts the obstacles faced in every day life and the strategies employed to overcome the peaks and valleys. After wrapping up "Fire and Water," the final chapter covering 9/11 and Katrina, I reconsidered the lens by which I interpreted the first decade of this century for Americans. With the September 11 attacks, Katrina, and the colossal failure of the US' financial and economic system, the decade consisted of bookends and a meaty center where ruin was heaped on the United States with an attendant social cost that will be reckoned with for the subsequent decade or longer. Americans will persist and slog through the ruptures we face, and Listening is an Act of Love reinforces the durability of Americans and, possibly, a nebulous American spirit. After the past year, I'm sick of partisanship and empty-headed screeds warning of communism and socialism, and possibly these nuisances are the product of the shocks from '01-'09. I remain positive in spite of the apoplectic, frothing displays that the US will rebuild a foundation of rational centrist approaches to regulation and taxes, and that politicians will forsake short-term political gain to join a discussion of how to safeguard our country. I trust that a toxic political conversation abates in the near future. If the missives in Listening is an Act of Love reveal anything, it's the ability for Americans to harness renewal and hope to rebuild.

Pizzas with Chipotle Sauce

Recently, my cooking preoccupations have reoriented toward pizzas. I love pizza and it is, by far, one of my favorite meals. I've eaten fabulous sorts and some pretty disastrous pizza. For example, the disgusting specimen I was served in Abilene, Kansas was the worst pizza I've consumed--worse than the insipid pie sold from a rural Illinois gas station. If pizza is an option, no matter where I'm at in the world, I often try it if the situation permits. So there's little surprise that I enjoy whipping up a dough and firing the oven up to 500. Peaches and a few other ingredients appeared on my forays into grilled pizzas and, in actuality, my first dabbles with the dish.

I am cooking several pizzas in five weeks for a baby shower hosted at our apartment for close friends who are marrying in two and a half weeks. The exact number of guests for the baby shower is unclear, as is the total of pies and varieties. I'll run the grill and oven and will call upon Mark Bittman's easy pizza dough recipe in How to Cook Everything. In a matter of a couple of hours, the recipe produces a reliably tasty crust and base. The question is what to choose for toppings, and the suggestion window is open.

Recently, I added chipotle peppers to the sauce and boosted the tomato paste by a 1/4 of a cup, or so by eye, to boost the volume and consistency. The result has been a spicy sauce that works quite well with chicken chorizo as long as I balance the proportion of sauce and cheese. We topped the pizza with sauteed spinach last night and I was not blown away, to my disappointment. We learned, however, the longer the chipotle sits, a week in this case, the hotter the sauce. In the past, I eschewed a rolled up crust in favor of a standard flat pizza. I opted to alter my approach as the pictures demonstrate, and we've been impressed with the initial returns. I don't have a fool-proof formula and, as you can imagine, we'll experiment mightily in preparation for the baby shower parade of pizzas.

Brandon Eats a Double Down. Diarrhea Ensues.

Sometimes, to my dismay, I allow a joke to advance from flights of fancy and humor to the realm of possibility. Being snarky has its limits and then there's a time to be silly. That is the case with KFC's new sandwich, the Double Down. For those unfamiliar with this fried behemoth, the add wizards at KFC replaced a sandwich's traditional buns with fillets of original recipe fried chicken. In other words, they opted to forgo bread for maximum cholesterol. In between those golden, grease clogged slabs of chicken one finds the colonel's sauce, two slices of bacon, and slices of monterey jack and pepper jack cheese. I sipped on my A&W root beer while I waited for my name to be called and to peer at the recent darling of dietitians everywhere. The Double Down arrived hot and wrapped in paper to protect the eater from directly handling the greasy, gooey sandwich--a futile pursuit. The predominant flavor, as one would guess, is the fried chicken with hints of bacon mingled with the cheeses. All in all, as long as I neglected the nutrition facts, it was not as deplorable as I...well, envisioned. I can sum it up as anticlimactic.

Official photo

A Double Down's innards (thanks to treehugger for the image)

My brother-in-law, Dylan, visited this week and we snorted about the disgustingly tasty nature of this example of fast food run amok. I worked at a McDonalds and I still have an odd fascination with every unhealthy piece of "food" they and others advertise. For example, after watching Morgan Spurlock's Super Size Me, I left the theater thinking "I really want a McDonalds' cheeseburger." (No, I didn't have the same reaction after completing Eric Schlosser's Fast Food Nation). My family was no stranger to fast food and I partake in it when I'm at an airport from time to time. I fondly remember driving to Casey, Illinois, with my grandfather to a Kentucky Fried Chicken to feed myself and cousins. Stated another way, I don't turn my nose up at eating fast food once in a while on a lark or for expediency's sake. Some people have a knee jerk aversion toward fast food--for health and I would argue class reasons--and I won't take issue with that sentiment. From a public health stand point, I do not doubt that it is a blight in a country battling an obesity epidemic. I recognize fast food for what it is, and I don't think that a double cheese burger and coke is a gateway drug to a diet comprised solely of unidentifiable fried chicken parts laden with mysterious sauces that run down my chin as I watch re-runs of Hee Haw. Nor will it lead to a stroke tomorrow considering my diet and exercise. Regardless, Kate humored this excursion and my self-punishing side won't offer up expiation on the cheap. And, frankly, neither did my digestive track, which was not a shock.

Capitalism: A Love Story

Prior to leaving for Morocco, my time was stretched thin and I wasn't afforded the opportunity of heading to the Mayan to view Michael Moore's latest installment. I can think of few documentarians who have ascended to Moore's prominence and polarizing nature. I grew up in a household that valued his mix of satire and gripping portrayals of Americans wronged by social inequities. From TV Nation to Canadian Bacon, I grew up around his films, shows, books, and speaking. (OK, Canadian Bacon happened, by random, to be shown on Comedy Central.) Capitalism doesn't deliver on a variety of fronts.

I'm familiar with the Moore template of campy footage of those halcyon days of the past--imagined and actual--juxtaposed to today's perfidy and error, and the subject matter usually runs along the same lines. Capitalism seemed looser and confuses meaning and intention. Is one to walk away from this with the closing argument that capitalism is unremittingly evil, thus calling for the institution of a new economic system? When the final message is, verbatim, "capitalism is evil," what is the desired outcome for a viewer? I'll return to that question at the end. Another point, Moore's films balance humor and critique. This time around, outside of a Cleveland video not of his making, it was flat and there was a paucity of jokes (dead pan or cheap) from the bespectacled, ballcapped, heavy set chap from Michigan. Of course, there's nothing funny about a massive capitalist economic failure, one could retort. Certainly true. Still, he discovered ways to lace the other films with humor.

For me, it started off oddly with commentary from Wallace Shawn. Who, you might ask? This fella from everyone's favorite 80s film (but not mine):

In fairness to Shawn, he apparently graduated from Harvard with a degree in history and had designs for a career in economics after studying at Oxford as a Rhodes Scholar. A BA approximately forty years ago doesn't entitle one to postulate as a qualified expert. There are a litany of academic economists who could have explicated our current economic failure and capitalism's flaws: Paul Krugman, Brad DeLong, Simon Johnson, James Galbraith, Robert Shiller, to name a few. Instead you have Vizzini the Sicilian? His use of Elizabeth Warren, on the other hand, was one of the bright spots in the film.

Capitalism tours the scorched landscape left after America's economic fortunes soured and, correctly, before when workers' wages failed to grow. In typical Moore fashion, those watching are treated to disturbing scenes of greed with families tossed out of homes, Dead Peasant insurance scams, and how little people (ie, the majority of Americans) suffer under capitalism's negative ramifications that benefited a fraction of our fellow citizens. I was heartened to see footage from the victorious Chicago Republic Windows and Doors sit down strike and residents retaking a foreclosed home before Moore launched into his theatrics that, to me, was a tired shtick even thought it worked in the past.

Near the end, viewers are treated to a previously unseen clip of President Franklin Roosevelt enunciating his proposal for a Second Bill of Rights before cameras. Moore neglects to mention that had Roosevelt lived, he would have faced the same culture of post-war conservatism that led to Taft-Hartley and opposed Harry Truman's Fair Deal.

He concludes with the resounding charge "capitalism is evil." By blurring the lines of capitalism's inherent villainy, Capitalism elides the past accomplishments of the post-war economic growth that generated a thriving middle class of a sort largely unseen in history. What should have been said, and will be lost on those who aren't familiar with the Cold War era, is regulated capitalism opens the door for opportunity and the implementation of neoliberalism led us to this teetering state of today. I can already hear the derisive, back handed "corporatist" attacks. Regardless, it was a disappointing way to wrap up the movie when he could have adopted a moderate stance that could return us to the prosperity of his youth. As a document of sorts, it's a product of the bubbling energy following Obama's electoral victory, and has yet to confront the realities of lowered expectations. The next few months will reveal the administration's and Senator Christopher Dodd's commitment to safeguarding the economy and finance capital's from its own devices that landed us in this current mess. Hey, at least no one is consulting Robert Rubin.

Obama revives Marx

Is a Cold Fish Equivalent to a Nurse's Smock?

Andy Stern, head of SEIU, sent Glenn Beck a care package of SEIU swag, including a purple nurse's smock with an attached note regarding health care. According to a Huffington Post article, Beck hypothesized that Obama wore a purple tie to "signal" Stern and SEIU, both of which are the victims of attacks from Beck on a consistent basis. This nonsense triggered Stern's gifts. Instead of accepting it as a good-natured, whimsical package, Beck compared the gift to the iconic scene in the Godfather when the Corleone family discovers that the Tattaglia family murdered Luca Brasi.

Beck's reply? He created a t shirt with the following message on the front: "I just wanted to overthrow the government in the 1960s and all I got was this lousy t-shirt."

Slow Cooker Chronicles v. 2 Chicken with Tarragon

For a couple of years, we kept a Real Simple recipe tacked to a cork backsplash with the good intentions of making this piece of paper a reality in our stomachs. The ingredients are straight-forward: chicken (we used thighs that I cleaned), tarragon, white wine, leeks, a bit of garlic, baby new potatoes, peas, and cream. And when your instructions entail throwing it all in a crock pot, with the exclusion of the cream and peas, it's a hassle free meal.

Failure might be feared but there's no fear of admitting failure here at the Raptor Space. The goods: the chicken tasted better than expected and the house was bathed in the delicious smell of leeks and chicken. The bads: it was an uninspired meal and the left-overs were equally disappointing. I mashed the potatoes with the cream in the stoneware, and it never warmed. Transferring it to a sauce pan was the only way to heat the mixture to an acceptable serving temperature, and the peas never cooked thoroughly. I will break out the crock pot for corned beef soon, other than that, there won't be future offerings of the slow cooker chronicles.

So here are some pictures. I return to my otherwise mundane life after the Praxis on Saturday.

Maybe I didn't give the potatoes the credit they deserved.

LEEKS

My shoulder is in focus as I scrape excess fat of the thighs.

Let's roll.

The final stop in an uneventful meal.

Slow Cooker Chronicles: Southwestern Brisket and '77

I love stumbling across a recipe for my slow cooker/crock pot. And when Smitten Kitchen posted a southwestern pulled beef brisket, I couldn't resist. I had also been waiting for an opportunity to stop in Oliver's Meat and Seafood Market on 6th, and I can't complain about a friendly, jovial butcher who is open at 8 on a Thursday morning. The brisket and Oliver's receive definite seals of approval.

SK's instructions are straight-forward, so I won't bother recapitulating them. Instead, I offer a brief photo journal of the experience from unwrapping to plating. I started the process around 9 and we ate at 7:30. We served the brisket on soft buns with a side of cranberry pecan sweet potatoes. The brisket cooked on low for around ten hours, and pulled apart with ease. The chipotle and molasses layered the beef and sauce with smokey, sweet flavors that merged well with the soft texture of the beef. In other words, it was a winner. I can add the brisket to the pork shoulder recipe as go to crock pot recipes that result in delicious meals. The Talking Heads' '77 played in the background for my soundtrack from the browning until I started the crock pot.

As some of you know, my last experience with the slow cooker was marred by two strong doses of food poisoning. I determined that the pork shoulder was not the culprit, and I didn't have any apprehension of reusing the crock pot. In March, we'll make a chicken tarragon meal and corned beef in the crock pot. Regarding the latter, St. Pat's is one of the few times where I can convince myself to participate in holiday mirth by consuming heaping portions of unhealthy meat.

I decided to strain and reduce the sauce this morning, as per SK's suggestion, while I typed this entry. I will certainly reduce in the future. The volume decreased by half and transformed into a smooth sauce that is neither too syrupy nor watery. She mentioned seasoning the sauce, but I found no need for additions. I can't wait for sandwiches tonight.

Unwrapping the brisket to Weymouth's fat bass of Psycho Killer seemed appropriate

Browning after a generous seasoning of salt and pepper.

Onions, garlic, coriander, cumin, chili pepper sauteing until fragrant.

Molasses, bay leaves, tomatoes, and chipotle peppers en adobo before adding to the mix.

Breaking up the tomatoes by hand. I'm pulled, I'm pulled up.

The brisket with all of the ingredients at the onset of the approximately ten hours in the crock pot.

Final product fresh out of the crock pot.


I posted two photos of the plating as each one showcases the meat in different lights (literally with and without flash) and the sandwiches' composition.

Andy Stern on Obama's Deficit Commission

Andy Stern, President of SEIU, was appointed to Obama's bipartisan deficit commission. Other members include: David Cote, Honeywell International CEO; Alice Rivlin, former Fed Vice Chairman; Ann Fudge former Young & Rubicam Brands CEO. File that under things that surprised me.

Eno & Byrne

Praxis studying is gobbling up my free hours for leisure. Between work and everything else, I don't have a glut of free time for reading or paying attention to the news. I am drawing fuel from one of my favorite song-writing duos. Those two genius weirdos above: David Byrne and Brian Eno.

Meeoooowww

Obama: Let me just make this point. John, because we're not campaigning anymore. The election's over.

McCain: I'm reminded of that every day.

Kings of Kodachrome and the Cincinnati Art Museum

They give us those nice bright colors
They give us the greens of summers

Oh to be in Cincinnati. The Cincinnati Art Museum is hosting Starburst: Color Photography in America, 1970-1980 with works by William Eggleston, Stephen Shore, William Christenberry, Joel Meyerowitz, Joel Sternfeld, Mitch Epstein, Helen Levitt, Jan Groover, and Eve Sonnemann. OK, I copied and pasted those names, most of which I am unfamiliar with and have not viewed their works. If you're like me and you enjoy photorealism and the stunning creative explosion from the 70s-80s (and I'd like to toss Ed Ruscha's work in the 60s in, for good measure), you can explore the gallery of thirty photographs at the Daily Beast's Art Beast article and the accompanying explanation of the artists and their subjects.

TFA & Praxis 0014 - Update 6 and 2/3

This is another installment in my TFA series. As I mentioned in a previous post, when I searched for info regarding TFA, the interview day, and subsequent entry into the program, blogs were a prime source of information for positive and negative insight. I weighed the risk of keeping this blog alive when I'm waiting to interview, and I determined that my missives aren't caustic, defamatory, or radical. In the new year, TFA starts in earnest with the first hurdle of passing the Place and Praxis exams, which are remarkably different tests with more on the latter below. The hiring process commenced at the beginning of February and continues until one secures a position before the beginning of the school year. TFA matches corps members with a hiring consultant--a member of TFA--to smooth the process. It is our obligation to find and apply for jobs once they are listed on district HR pages, which was reinforced during a roughly hour and a half conference call last week. The Denver coordinator also sends e-mails with job openings, and I've applied for one position thanks to her efforts. My concerns don't stem from finding a job at this moment, rather the Praxis occupies my time and anxious center.

To teach Early Childhood Education in Colorado, I am required to sit for the Praxis II Elementary Education Content Knowledge, test 0014. ETS divides the exam into four subjects: language arts, social studies, mathematics, and science. Educators are required to know the four areas even though they might not cover more than one in their classes. Or, in my case, I must pass despite not teaching the Mayflower Compact, factor trees, plate tectonics, or homonyms/phones/grams. There are 120 questions split evenly between the four disciplines on the paper-based exam. Unlike the Place's abundance of time, the Praxis limits text takers to two hours and poses markedly harder questions. In other words, it's a demanding exam and requires the usual standardized test skills remain sharp. Mine are, admittedly, dull. The last time they were deployed was five and a half years ago for the GRE.

I purchased study guides from Research & Education Association, CliffsNotes, as well as ETS's e-book. Each one features a practice exams, and I will purchase a retired exam from ETS. The REA and CN consist of details and diagrams, whereas the ETS offering is vague at points. For instance, ETS suggests learning sonnets, and the CN book describes the quatrain and rhyming sequences of Petrarchan and Shakespearean. I might return the REA test prep as I am uncertain it is too broad without ample focus on the questions I will face.

I feel comfortable with the language arts and social studies sections, and the remaining two represent my bigger challenge. For instance, when was the last time one memorized the breakdown of a cell and what conducts DNA? If you want to quiz me on the origins of the Cold War or Civil Rights, I'm game. Twenty-eight days remain before the Praxis, so I have ample time to study and devise patterns or jar mnemonics loose from the recesses of my brain. I must complete language arts and social studies this week, thus allowing me to devote a week to science and math with a final week for review and practice tests. After that, hiring and prep for institute.

Labor Revolt on Democrats' Hands

Democrats are awakening to the fact that they've let their labor constituents down, notably with the failure to appoint Craig Becker in the Senate. I've stated my opinions that it seems unlikely that the legislative calendar and the political currents allow much room for the Democrats to engineer any feats on behalf of workers and unions. It begs another question, do the Democrats want to open doors for organized labor? A story from the Politico paints a dismal portrait of how union reps are smarting over failures by the Democrat dominated government. Whether in the disappointing impotence in passing a health care bill or Obama's and Duncan's Race to the Top or merit pay that's not appealing to teachers' unions (ie AFT & NEA), labor heavies are voicing their anger. The Democrats are running down an odd path if they want to sustain a coalition that brought electoral victories in 2006 and 2008. A story in the Financial Times pins the blame on the fearsome foursome (Emanuel, Jarrett, Axelrod,Gibbs) surrounding the President and maintaining a permanent campaign atmosphere in the West Wing. The thing about campaigns is that you have to win...at least some, especially for the people who were active members that propelled you to office.