The Need to Quantify

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I think grades are hilarious. Every time I receive a quiz, test, or paper back my heart rate goes up just a little and I get some chills. Not because I like grades (or definitely not because I make straight a's - haven't since 4th grade), it is because my life, efforts, and thoughts have become quantifiable in a precise manner (relative to the professor).

I know a lot of people are sort of addicted to school and learning, and I know a lot of people associate school with Hell. I think one of the reasons is that we do work (which is not, in and of itself, unique) and then someone grades it.

At work we are (hopefully!) reviewed. We may be reprimanded, given a pat on the back, given a raise, given a demotion, given some kind of ultimatum, etc. Generally though ,it is somewhat abstract and we can come up with reasons (we do this in school too) why things worked out the way they did.

One of the things that separates school is the forgettableness of it. My COmputer is currently telling me that that is not a word... FYI. We get our grade, it makes us happier, sadder, more frustrated, and then we move on (unless we have to take the class again). I just think it is interesting.

I recently turned 30 and am in school again for the first time since December of 2000 (when I graduated from college). It is harder and easier, I'm better and worse at it, I care less and more (all of these comparisons could be explored in a different - less abstract blog), and it seems funny to me how I react to a quiz when I get it back.

Safety

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It seem I have a lot of friends who are drowning. One called tonight... I still haven't checked my messages.

Caroline (my daughter) and I were having a rough time with her sleep routine. The problem, as I see it, was that she loves for me to read her books (she loves for everyone to read her books, but as her dad I get to do it a lot). So, I asked Rachel what she does and she says when Caroline fights drinking her Organic Whole Milk - Rachel sings to her for a few minutes (usually "I love you Lord") and Caroline will then drink her milk.

I tried it. After Knuffle Bunny (A Cautionary Tale by Mo Willems) and The Going to Bed Book (Sandra Boynton) I offered the milk. It was refused. I held Caroline close to me and sang her MLK by U2. It was pretty interesting. She fights a little, but she hugged a little too, and she rubbed her eyes (THE sign of tiredness). Then she drank her milk and went to sleep.

I have probably done this 5-6 times since Rachel coached me back to a solid bed-time delivery, and every time I want to blog about it. I want to talk about Safety, parents and their accompanying issues, my baby girl and how I am the king of cheesiness in what I sing to her... But, sometimes I get on line and read other people's blogs about George Bush, the sunrise or if they want to buy a fiat... Some of them seem like very important things that we ought all to be talking about. Some seem interesting, but hard to relate to.

I think I am still chewing on hearing Donald Miller speak about six months ago. I wrote down a bunch of my fears and goals for this year. The summer is big for both of them... I am also still chewing on Tony Campolo saying that in a series of interviews with people who lived to be over 100 they almost invariably said they wish they risked a bit more and reflected a bit more... And something else. I blogged about it a couple of years ago... I like reflecting on my daughter, she is squishy and innocent and fun. Today she said "Go dog Go" from a book. I will pray for my friends, the ones who seem to be drowning and the ones who don't, I will pray for my daughter because she will not always be like this, and I will pray for my heart that I will not fear.