She really does! She also says "capsicum" instead of "bell pepper", "rubbish" instead of "garbage", "Al-yoo-min-eee-um" instead of "aluminum" and a host of other things found only in "The Queen's English", including the infamous "zed".
Who? My wife, of course. Some people think it's cool. I call it "separation by a common language".
You can now check her out on her new adventure into blogging, I say Tom-AH-to. Welcome aboard, honey!
If a train heading east leaves Chicago at noon and a train heading west leaves New York an hour later, will that make you any better at math? New evidence says "No." In a report in the April 25th issue of the journal Science, researchers from Ohio State University say the preferred method of teaching math just doesn't make the grade. The researchers taught undergraduates mathematical principles they would need to solve future problems. Some were taught using concrete visual examples, like cups filled with water or a pizza cut into slices. Other students learned abstract formulas in terms like "n=x."
When asked to solve new problems using these teachings, major discrepancies appeared. In one case, abstract-learning students scored an average of 80 percent on a test. Their "real-world" counterparts, however, seemed unable to transfer their knowledge to a new situation, posting only a 44 percent average. The researchers say using concrete examples is alluring, because students seem to learn lessons faster. However, students who take the time to get abstract concepts down are able to get on the train before it leaves the station.
Word problems and real world example are the preferred method of teaching? Hmmm, things have changed. I seem to recall being taught by endless repetition of solving "8x = 24" and almost no repetition of "How many 8-slice pizzas do you need if 24 people want one slice each?" Which is good. The former teaches algebra. The latter teaches you to count pizza slices, which is helpful if your dream job is at Papa Gino's.
Wish I could read more about this, to find out exactly how the researchers used "pizzas and cups of water" to teach concepts to undergrad students ("this pizza is an electron with up 1/2 spin...this cup of water is an electron with down 1/2 spin") but I'm too cheap to pay AAAS the $10 for 24 hrs of the article, let alone $144 for a membership when the most scientific thing I get to do any more is ... well, read 60 Second Science feeds.
Today has always been an important day in our home, especially for my wife, Sarah. 25 April is ANZAC Day, the day the Australia-New Zealand Army Corps landed in Anzac Cove on Gallipoli in a long and ill-fated campaign to knock Turkey out of the First World War.
The landing and the next five days would cost the ANZACs nearly 5,000 killed, missing or wounded, and the entirety of the campaign would claim nearly 9,000 ANZAC casualties. Just a tiny fraction of the nearly 340,000 combined casualties that the next eight months would bring, but the impact of those 9,000 is still seen today.
Two war correspondents, Ellis Ashmead-Bartlett and Charles Bean, by documenting and this and other endeavors of the Australian troops, are largely credited with giving birth to the Anzac Spirit
The Anzac spirit or Anzac legend is a concept which suggests that Australian and New Zealand soldiers possess shared national characteristics, specifically the qualities those soldiers are believed to have shown in World War I. These qualities cluster around several ideas, including endurance, courage, ingenuity, good humour, and mateship. According to this concept, the soldiers are perceived to have been innocent and fit, stoical and laconic, irreverent in the face of authority, naturally egalitarian and disdainful of British class differences.
The Anzac spirit also tends to capture the idea of an Australian "national character", with the landing at Anzac Cove often described as being the moment of birth of Australia's nationhood.
Correspondingly, ANZAC Day is a big day there. It typically starts with a Dawn Service at a local war memorial or other prominent place.
The Dawn Service observed on ANZAC Day has its origins in an operational routine which is still observed by the Australian Army today. During battle, the half-light of dawn was one of the most favoured times for an attack. Soldiers in defensive positions were, therefore, woken up in the dark, before dawn, so by the time first light crept across the battlefield they were awake, alert, and manning their weapons. This was, and still is, known as "stand-to". It was also repeated at sunset.
After the First World War, returned soldiers sought the comradeship they felt in those quiet, peaceful moments before dawn. With symbolic links to the dawn landing at Gallipoli, a dawn stand-to or ceremony became a common form of ANZAC Day remembrance during the 1920s; the first official dawn service was held at the Sydney Cenotaph in 1927. Dawn services were originally very simple and followed the operational ritual. In many cases they were restricted to veterans only and the daytime ceremony was for families and other well-wishers. Before dawn the gathered veterans would be ordered to "stand to" and two minutes' silence would follow. At the end of this time a lone bugler would play the Last Post and then concluded the service with Reveille. In more recent times the families and young people have been encouraged to take part in dawn services, and services in Australian capital cities have seen some of the largest turnouts ever. Reflecting this change, the ceremonies have become more elaborate, incorporating hymns, readings, pipers, and rifle volleys. Others, though, have retained the simple format of the dawn stand-to, familiar to so many soldiers.
I attended a dawn service eight years ago, when Sarah and I were in Cairns for her sister's wedding. Everyone was there - ages 5 to 85 - reflecting on the tragic event that gave birth to their "national character". It was a truly moving experience, and one that I can see no parallel to here in the United States.
The day is just as significant in Turkey. Dawn services are also held at Anzac Cove itself; this year's was attended by ten thousand Australians, New Zealanders and Turks. Mustafa Kemal Ataturk, the first President of the post-Ottoman Turkish Republic, was in command of the Turkish forces at Anzac Cove, as a Colonel.
In 1934 Atatürk wrote a tribute to the ANZACs killed at Gallipoli:
Those heroes that shed their blood and lost their lives... You are now lying in the soil of a friendly country. Therefore rest in peace. There is no difference between the Johnnies and the Mehmets to us where they lie side by side now here in this country of ours... you, the mothers, who sent their sons from faraway countries wipe away your tears; your sons are now lying in our bosom and are in peace. After having lost their lives on this land. They have become our sons as well.
This inscription appears on the Kemal Atatürk Memorial, ANZAC Parade, Canberra.
In the past, we would usually recognize ANZAC Day by having a dinner of traditional Australian fare - rack of lamb, with potato, pumpkin, and vegetables, and a pavlova for dessert. We'll also listen to Australian music - from folk (like The Aussie Bush Band) to rock (like Cold Chisel, whose lead singer, Jimmy Barnes sings "Good Times" with INXS on the Lost Boys soundtrack).
This year, it kind of got away from us, with everything going on. And that bugs me, for two reasons. First, it's a large part of Sarah's identity; she is a proud Australian, and as happy as we are together, the separation she endures from her home still weighs heavy upon her after 11 years. We also want our children to take as much pride in their Australian heritage as their Lebanese and American heritage. Lastly, it means a lot to me because, as I said, we don't appear to have anything here that parallels ANZAC Day here in America where we, as a nation, take the time to really reflect on our national identity and at what price it was bought. The direct, practiced link between history and today is not ingrained. I felt some of that on Patriot's Day eve, when I attended the Old North Church lantern lighting ceremony, but name the three (yep, that's it...three!) states that recognize Patriot's Day (I mean the anniversary of Paul Revere's ride...not 9-11!).
Wow...it's not even ANZAC Day anymore...does that mean I need to delete without posting?
On a final note, I mentioned we listen to Australian music on ANZAC Day. A big part of it is this song - "And the Band Played Waltzing Matilda" - written in 1972 by Eric Bogle,
describing the futility, gruesome reality and the destruction of war, while criticising those who seek to glorify it. This is exemplified in the song by the account of a young Australian soldier on his maiming during the Battle of Gallipoli during the First World War.
It can be tough to get through with dry eyes, but it is a beautiful piece.
They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old: Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn. At the going down of the sun and in the morning We will remember them.
My job takes me to DC every few months, as my boss works in the 5-sided building with no windows, and usually the most unusual thing I see down there is a three-star walking down a passageway eating a donut.
But today something happened that really creeped me out, and it was at the rental car return at Reagan International.
I'd just paid off my rental, and headed into the men's room to change out of my uniform (I feel more comfortable snoozing with my iPod going when I'm in civvies). Two things I notice are a man standing in the middle of the restroom and a large stall for changing/handicapped use.
It happened pretty quickly, but it appeared that when the guy saw me looking at/heading for the stall, he decided to walk in and start using it. It seemed odd, as there was an open urinal and another open stall.
Without closing the door, he stands in front of the toilet, and apparently begins attempting to urinate. I try to mind my own business, with my back turned, but I can see him in the reflection of the washbasin mirror. I don't hear anything. Of course, I'm expecting to hear the sound of urine hitting water, but nope. Nothing. Hey, maybe he's having trouble...I've had times like that, especially when my name pops for a random piss-test.
Finally, I hear urine hitting water, so I assume he's "found his stride". He finishes up, I hear him unroll some toilet paper (guess he splashed on the ring) and comes out. He looked pretty odd to me...very over-groomed eyebrows and moustache, and I'd swear the guy had some sort of makeup base on his skin, almost a bit "glossy".
Whatever. I just wanna' change and get on the damned shuttle. I walk by him and into the stall, shut the door, shove my bag in the corner and hang my garment bag. Unzip my trousers, untuck and unbutton my shirt, then I turn around...
...and I notice it.
The wet floor...what the Hell?
Then I notice the toilet ring. He obviously didn't wipe it well, because it was still covered in...well, piss.
WTF?!?!?!?! You mean this guy appeared to cut me off heading into this stall just so he could piss on the ring for 30 seconds and walk out?
I don't even know where to go from there. Just suffice to say I won't use that restroom again.
...last week, I came home from a long evening of studying for my "Air Defense" exam at the Surface Warfare Officers School in Newport, and faced up to that which I was not willing to for the previous three months.
That I was completely in love with the young woman who had left her home in Australia on a visa-waiver and a prayer to see if there was "anything there" between herself and a young Navy officer.
So, with less than a week left before she needed to depart the United States, I proposed. In bed. Okay, I think the actual words were "well, we could get married". Shocked discussion ensued, interspersed with the occasional trip to the living-room bar for slugs of Jose Cuervo, and within a day or so we had the ball rolling...immigration attourney, marriage license, appointment at the J-O-P.
And eleven years ago today, at about 0945, I finished up my exam, picked up Sarah, went to a J-O-P and we got married. It was, by far, the smartest thing I have ever done.
Eleven years, four children and six moves later, I stand by that assessment. Now there's a lot more to the story...mostly about how I was a jackass who was resisting the whole way, and other stupid things I did, and Sar tells the story better than I do.
