June 30, 2000

There she goes again, just barely squeezing in that June entry on the last day of the month. This was supposed to be bi-weekly, ya know. Gosh.

Look what I did:

Dear Dr. -:

I apologize for not bringing this matter to your attention sooner, but over the past year I have participated in a physics program that I believe is a mockery of the science it claims to teach. From what I have experienced, success in this program is based not on a student's ability to grasp the subject being studied, but on a completely different system that I have yet to completely understand. In the end, I have walked away with limited knowledge in this area of science and a feeling that I had been cheated out of my valuable time and effort.

I am positive that Mrs. - is very knowledgeable in her area of expertise; she knows and understands physics in its entirety, but when it comes to conveying that knowledge to her students, she falls tragically short in achieving this goal. The theory behind her teaching is that she is trying to form us into more independent students and prepare us for college. This would be a wonderful way to run a course taken by mostly juniors and seniors, but unfortunately my physics class did not work this way. We received few lectures, and grasped most of our understanding of the material from videotaped lectures by Dr. Hewitt. Videos should be supplemental learning tools, not a student's primary source of knowledge. We worked on the material in groups, but with infrequent confirmation from the teacher, we were never sure if we had understood everything correctly. Due to this lack of guidance, it took the classes months to get through two chapters in our books. By the end of the year, we were forced to frantically rush through many units with the same lack of actual instruction. Also during the second semester, we received weekly quizzes, many of which tested us on points we had either been told not to study or had never learned in the first place. Many times, we weren't informed of which chapters we were actually studying until one or two days before the quiz.

Due to this shoddy attempt at teaching, I and many of my classmates struggled with the material, and it did affect the grades we received in the class. For example, in the first half of the third quarter this year, my official grades on our weekly quizzes were 13 out of 20, 8 out of 20, and 12 out of 16, and by the time midterms were due, I had missed one quiz due to an absence, so I had an additional zero in the grade book. When I asked Mrs. - what my grade was at midterms, I was informed that it was a 28%, F. A week later, my parents received a midterm report that said I had earned an A in physics. I have no idea where this grade came from, as it was completely false, and I wonder if it mattered that in the following weeks I worked strenuously to raise the grade that I originally thought I had earned. My classmates have shared similar stories with me.

Adding insult to injury, there were times during the school year when I felt personally insulted by Mrs. -. One such event happened the day after I had once again failed to find Mrs. - after school and attempt once more to clear up my own confusion over the material we had covered that day in class. I had received help from my older brother, and told her so before class the next day. Upon hearing this, she proceeded to explain to me, in front of half the class, how my brother was an underachiever and had failed to live up to his potential in high school. I was insulted at this unexpected attack on one of my family members. Weeks later, I was left speechless when I was laughed at for asking questions about the material I was told would be present on my second semester final. I was informed that what I was asking about should have been covered when I was in junior high, and she was under the impression that she didn't have to teach that to her high school honors class. I believe this was an unnecessary attack on my intelligence, and completely inappropriate considering it was information we had never looked at in class.

The last outrage that I experienced in this class occurred on the day of our final a few weeks ago. The week before we had been informed that it was going to be modeled after a standardized test given in 1996, and we were given that test to study from. Many of the concepts covered on the test had not been covered over the year, but as we were going to be given a list of equations, I thought that the test would be manageable with many hours of studying. Imagine my surprise on the day of the test when I realized that while Mrs. - had given us different questions using the same concepts we had studied, she had not changed the multiple choice answers that went along with the questions. While I knew the answer to most of the questions, I still could not answer them correctly because the correct answer was not an option. When people complained, we were told to choose the answer that is closest to the correct one, despite the fact that the closest answer may be completely different from the correct one. We were told that this is just the way the standardized tests are; they never give the right answer in the multiple choice options. The 1996 standardized test we had been given to study off of did include the right answers, however, and in all of my years taking standardized tests, I have never encountered one like what I took that day. I counted at least nine questions on my final that I had to blindly guess on, because I wasn't allowed to answer them correctly.

I know that I am not the only student to come to you with complaints about the physics program, but I am not just a high-ranking, A-student who is upset because she took a course that was difficult for her. I am upset that I was denied my chance to really learn physics. I signed up to take an honors science course, and I came away with next to no advanced knowledge of physics. I spent hours and hours of effort trying to master this course, but with its questionable grading system and lack of quality instruction, I feel that despite the fact that I passed with an A, I ultimately failed to earn any real understanding of the material. It was my right to have at least that after a year of supposed learning, and that right was denied me. I am done with the program now, but I doubt the experiences of future physics classes will be anything different than what I have seen this past year. My parents and I are more than willing to discuss this issue with you further. We feel that our community deserves more than what the physics program at -- is offering.

It feels good to have a voice, finally.

Although perhaps now I should be worried, because I'm suddenly getting the urge to write letters to the editor about how dumb I think one of their political columnists is (not even just because he's a Republican), and about how I am of the belief that we should not be angry at the Supreme Court for their decisions regarding homosexuals in the Boy Scouts, but furious at the bigoted Boy Scouts for being that way in the first place. But I don't know- having a voice is a good thing, I shouldn't second guess it. I think.

So I fainted. I was having these awful back pains, and then I got a really bad cold that involved large amounts of hacking coughing fits, which only irritated the problem more. So on the second day of finals, I awaken to massive pain. It hurts to think about standing up, let alone actually do it. But I do, and eventually the coughing comes on and I sit down in an attempt to relieve the pain. It doesn't, and the thought of having to sit in those hard chairs for four and half hours taking those awful finals is one I'm trying to avoid. It's finals week- I have to go no matter what. So I get back up. There is an incredible buzzing in my ears, my visions slowly fades into that series of fuzziness you occasionally get when you get up too fast. There is a lot of pain shooting through the lower half of my body. I remember getting to the foot of my bed and calling downstairs "Dad, I don't think I'm going to make it to school today." Then, reportedly, "thump."

It was an interesting few weeks (which aren't really over yet, but at least I'm mobile and the ground is just a little bit less far away than it was two weeks ago). At the ER, I was basically ignored for a while until I just broke down sobbing in the hallway. It was kind of embarrassing, but I reaped the benefits with my little valium pill five minutes later. More on that drug later. Overall, I spent two weeks on the couch, being waited on, to a certain extent, by most of my family members. I got a week off work. I got another week to study for my math final (which, I found out a week later, was extremely necessary). I got lots and lots of pain, in case I haven't mentioned that. But then again, lots of pain medication. Oh, about that.

I have Cystic Fibrosis. More on that later. What I didn't know about that until about three weeks ago was that PWCF (People With Cystic Fibrosis: what some geek out there decided to officially call us, because when people said Cystic, other people that we were people with cysts, I guess. Or something. Anyway, pronounced "pwe-sif.") break down certain medications, like pain relievers, differently than others without CF. That means that I received large, potent doses of heavy drugs. And they did nothing to me. So then I got lots of stuff, and took it often. Although they didn't really take the pain away, they took the consciousness away, and this was fine with me. I took valium for about two days, and let me tell you- great idea. It also didn't take the pain away, but I decided that any medication that let me laugh and joke and basically not care that searing pain was shooting through my back and legs constantly with virtually no relief whatsoever was my kind of medicine. Best of all, there are little hearts cut in the center of the pills. They're supposed to be V's, but they look like hearts. My father and I thought it was appropriate, my mom is still worried that I might just get addicted to the little devils. But I've managed to ween myself off all drugs at this point. After all, if this happens again, I figure I should be prepared. Ha. Laugh- I'm kidding.

Are you aware of the hatred that exists between chiropractors and traditional doctors? I was not. I went to a chiropractor the day after my visit to the ER, and he bashed the ER guys for just giving me pain medications to mask the pain. He said they make you think you're better, and you eventually end up aggravating the problem more. Well, yeah, but I wasn't going anywhere anyway. So then I go to visit my regular doctor to get antibiotics for the cold and replacement pain killers (you should have seen how many pills I was popping those first two weeks), and she tells me not to let the chiropractor do any of that realignment crap, like you see on TV. He doesn't do that. What he did was give me this great electric massage thing, an ultrasound (which, when done right, was very nice), and then stretched my back muscles to straighten my legs (which were becoming uneven... it's complicated) and make things nice. Oh, it felt so good. But they seemed to hate each other; you should have seen the looks. In my book, they are both wonderful beings who provided equally helpful treatment, both valuable in different ways.

I gotta find out more about X-Rays, because this was lower back pain, so my lower back/ pelvic region (oh! So, what was wrong with me was I had strained the ligaments in my pelvic region, which it turns out is really painful. Who knew? And before you ask, I have no idea how I did it, and neither does anyone else.) was X-rayed. Um, can I still have kids? I don't know, neither did my father (we were such a team; I think my mom wanted to take that week off work so she could monitor his treatment of me). Then again, this was painful, and this was the area where the kid comes out. I don't know if I wanna anymore. My aunt says it hurts more than childbirth, though. Still, ouch.

That was quite the story. Add this on: Two days after my injury, my little ten-year- old brother broke the growth plate in his right ankle. Because this area grows as you do, it has to heal pretty perfectly to ensure no problems later in life. That means he's got a full leg cast for six weeks. I'm mobile now, but for a few weeks there were two invalids in the house. It was interesting when my older brother ditched us for a while, and the phone in the other room rang. Or when he was falling down the stairs on his crutches, not being used to them, and I needed to help him up. Or when I woke up in pain too massive to move, really, and had to sit up to get in a better position to get over the coughing fit that was taking me over at the moment. When the boy looked at me from across the room, crutches in hand and said in a worried voice "I'll help you!" you know I regretted every fight we ever had ever. Personally, I was expected them to say a few things at the ER. I would suspect my parents, wouldn't you?

More on my brother. He's ten, and he's in a cast for six weeks. I love him, but it's getting annoying for everyone. Today I'm leaving with my friends, and he's outside with his friends. He's sitting there playing GameBoy, and they're wrestling on the ground twenty feet off. I wanted to hug him. He was on the All Star team in his baseball league, and although he's still on the roster, he can't play. Luckily, his regular team won the league championships tonight, so he can play in a special tournament in August. It's just so sad. This is the first time I've ever felt sympathy towards the little twerp, and it's coming on strong.

Lets get back to CF. Have I mentioned it? It's not in my bio page. Oh well. Anyway, I'm really excited about this mapping of the DNA genome, aren't you? Imagine the possibilities. One step closer to a cure, ya know? No one has actually said anything like that, though. No one's said anything, actually. But I'm pleased. Anyway, I've been looking for CF websites that can give me some info on how to deal with the fact that next year I'm going away to college, but I have tons of medication to take with me, and I'm looking at hefty financial problems. I'm particularly ready to take that step into adulthood, and it's coming up. So I'm looking for help. Everything I found tells me that yes, I can go to school just like a normal person, and yes, there will be medication and possible hospitalizations that I'll have to deal with in my life, and yes, I should tell the people that are important to me about the disease, and yes, there are other people out there with CF. Thanks, I honestly liked the pep talk. But what about money? Money, money, money. That's all I'm about these days. I'd just like some, I guess. Please.

In Germany, the kids smart enough to make it into University don't pay tuition. We bitch and moan about the people that are in power in America- the rich, heartless, social- Darwinistic capitalists that couldn't care less about the under-classes. Right? I'm thinking that if higher education was not so reliant on a family's financial situation, we could get some of that good old socialism into action. More people would get to go to the good schools with the great programs; they'd be able to study exactly what they want. I'm sure that things would change. When everything hangs on money, you can't help but become somewhat of a bastard.

But what do I know? I'm 17, first of all. My family has medical bills up the ass, so something gets skewed there. I live in a blue-collar town that borders a traditionally rich, white- collar suburb. I'm biased. I spend hours looking at university brochures that describe everything I want my next four years to be, and then add in a price tag of more than $30,000 a year. I'm getting cynical after all, I guess.

It's my senior year this year. I'm a senior. Flies by a lot quicker than grade school, doesn't it? It's my last year. I've been thinking about it a lot lately. I don't know why, since there's never anything original. It's basically the first few sentences of this paragraph, over and over and over again. Nothing turned out the way it was supposed to, except for my terrified nightmares as a 14-year-old that I would lose most of my friends to the strangers I'd be walking the halls with that freshman year. Of course, some of those strangers turned into the greatest people I've ever met, so it all evened out in the end. Last year I saw most of my friends graduate and leave me, and in less than a year I'm expected to follow them. How scary is that one? Time to make some decisions, I guess. Help. Please.

This is getting kinda long. Oh, by the by, a new story is going up pretty soon. When I finally get my ass in gear and switch around minuscule code in each of these many pages, you will see this new attempt at something. It's different, and a bit odd, but I'm liking what I'm seeing so far. Know this (and I will repeat the warning at a later date): it's not meant to be weirdly psychotic, it's supposed to be imagination at work; a girl's method of dealing with her preferred reality in relation to reality itself as she's getting older. It's accidentally going to become somewhat autobiographic in some places, mostly due to the fact that the idea came from real life and is subconsciously supposed to be to a certain extent. I don't know what it's called, but I have a feeling I'm going to like the title when it comes to me. It's just one of those stories that I instinctively know can be good, if I bother to do it correctly. The enthusiasm is still with me after what would be my first installment, and I have ideas up through the ending. This might be good- we'll see. Ha, I haven't discussed this with anyone yet, so talking about it is fun.

Liz Phair is a very valuable source of entertainment when sitting in utter scruffiness, rambling out a last minute journal entry, but I'm quoting from Billy Joel. Brian's constant, unconscious attacks on my musical taste have caused me to explore some of those old guys that have been with us for years and who have earned permanent names in music history. I'm starting with Bill because I've always wanted to learn the words to "Piano Man," and he's not that difficult to explain to my father. Bob Dylan's next, and Frank Zappa is too intriguing to leave alone for long. But I'm not doing Led Zepellin. Is that even how you spell it? I just don't like them much. Anyway, this is what I want to say. From the album Piano Man, the song "Worse Come to Worst:" Oh, lightning and thunder, Flashed across the roads we drove upon, Oh but it's clear skies we're under, When we are together, when I sing my song. . . Fun ain't easy if it ain't free, Too many people got a hold on me, But I know something that they don't know, I know a woman in New Mexico, Oh, worse comes to worse, I'll get along, I don't know how, But sometimes, I can be strong. . . "