Deaf Democrats

Some on the left are going to try and shame many of us liberals into supporting Biden despite last night's debate performance. Fine. Be dirty. Employ tactics that will only push me further away. Yes, Biden is a "patriot." Yes, I'm sure he's a "good man." Yes, he's our current nominee; and if he remains so, I will vote for him. But NO, he cannot win. NO, it's not a matter of his fine policies. He's struggling to convey a semblance of clarity and vigor -- needed ingredients for the "leader of [what's left of] the 'free world.'" What our party is foisting upon him AND us is a cruelty. When Biden (and by association, AMERICA) loses to Trump -- that diabolical, malignant, heaping pile of festering bullshit -- the Democratic party's blind adherence will be to blame. Go ahead Newsom, Fetterman et al, attack us with your blustery statements of blind loyalty [to what?]. Try and belittle me into adherence. You are bullies; or you are delusional. Either way, shame on you!

Reality Check

If you're on the political right and we're somehow still friends, this post is not for you. This is for the left side of the new American Divide (and the divisions within that caucus) and I hope it's a conversation we can have without berating each other. 

As the recently released New York Times/Siena poll revealed, we're in mega-crisis mode again and Biden's unpopularity is, at this point in the campaign, likely insurmountable. I haven't posted a political statement in quite some time... and I'm pretty sure few care to read what I'm thinking. But I'm desperate for Democrats to wake up. I appreciate the dogged support many of us continue to have for Biden... and I still appreciate him and many of his policies; however, the polls are issuing a verdict and for some ageist and actual reasons, his 81 years are his downfall. [This despite the rambling, distorted, garbage-fueled twaddle that continues to pour from 77-year-old Trump's puckered maw.] I wish reason dictated some sort of discourse, but "bigger picture" thinking is no longer practiced. So, subsequently, in order to spare the devastation of American democracy, Biden MUST stop running for a second term. Yes, I think he's still capable. Yes, I believe he's a fine president. Yes, he still has fight in him. But NO, he can't win. Kennedy's hurtful, foolish campaign will dent Biden's outcome more than Trump's. Cornel West and Jill Stein, both people I respect, inspire protest votes within the party that will further damage Biden's electability. The Never Trumpers who make up approximately 20% of the Republican vote -- votes that tend to go Haley's way -- will not suddenly throw their support at Biden in the general election. No, they'll vote for a down ballot libertarian or check "Trump '' while holding their noses and hoping for the best. [Oh, imagine if we, as a whole, were as committed to our party as Republicans are to theirs?] I truly believe that if Biden stays in, Trump -- who is a human fluoropolymer -- wins and all hell will break loose. As a country, we are well beyond rallying around the Center. "Common ground" no longer exists. Still, if all the Democratic factions, from far left to Blue Dogs, could commit themselves to a unifying candidate -- like Gretchen Whitmer or Raphael Warnock or Pete Buttigieg or... -- Trump would lose the election. Probably handily. Continuing to support Biden's reelection is support for Trump's return to power. Believe me, MAGA loves us for our Biden votes. 

Now, the Biden campaign will tell me to "Get over it," but that only proves how wrong they are. Many of us are grateful that Biden saved us from four more years of Trump. Some of us like the man despite some serious (and fatal) foreign policies. Some of us love the man as he is! But in this new, bizarre culture of virulent influencers, clarity is cloudy and the obvious is obfuscated. 

Before it is too late, let's make the change.

Being Pushed into the Actual, Physical Classroom

On April 3, 2023 the Times Union published my commentary exploring my shift from being a teacher living and working in New York City before the pandemic to one teaching remotely and living in Washington County during the pandemic. In essence, my short essay was a plea to the powers that be to keep me doing what I was so ably doing: offering online instruction at CUNY Kingsborough.

Well, CUNY, like most every other institution, no longer acknowledges the breadth of COVID's impact, the many advances we've made during the pandemic, and the range of personal needs and wants attached to our (falsely labeled) "post-pandemic" condition. I am being instructed to either show up to work, take FMLA (without pay), quit, or be fired.

Let me get a couple of things out of the way: 

Most of my colleagues want to and have returned to work in person. The breadth of the student population has yet to return, but gains of in person learning are showing improvement. There is, however, a significant body of students and teachers still wanting to and requesting remote arrangements... and the reasons are many and viable. As a city school, Kingsborough Community College caters to a wide range of students and their needs. The convenience of online learning improved the lives for those raising families, working full time, taking care of parents, and/or struggling with disabilities. Plus it's a commuter school in one of the more inconvenient locations in the five boroughs. But the same can be true for their professors... and, as an example of this "improved" lifestyle, as a remote instructor I have been more productive and effective than ever before. Reinvigorated, even.

So, the need for people like me to continue to develop online courses is evident. If I were ineffective or placing an unfair burden on my institution, I would not seek an accommodation to continue my remote instruction. My anxieties, my health, and my significantly improved lifestyle would be stuffed back into the shell of me and I would do my job with the same vigilance and professionalism as I always have.

But my accommodation request was rejected based on the following: “Kingsborough is not an online college. Kingsborough Community College is functioning at an 80% in person model. While during COVID we were able to work remotely, we now have students back on campus and the expectation is for the staff to also be on campus to accommodate and support them. On-campus presence is central to student-facing and teaching roles. All full-time faculty must be assigned at least one in-person course. As such, your request for fully remote work is denied.”

The arbitrary "80% in person model" in no way factors in the reality of our situation: In the English department, where I teach, online classes are routinely enrolled well in advance, while many in person classes struggle to supply enough students to remain on the schedule. Approximately 32% of our fall '23 courses are either remote or hybrid (part in person, part online) "models"... and almost ALL of those courses are near or fully enrolled. Still, it should be noted that many subjects like lab-based science courses or studio arts workshops may not function as well in the online arena... yet; but the needs and designs of one department should not influence and compound the difficulties faced by another department. 

Let those teachers and students who want or need to be in the classroom be in the classroom; and when valid, let those of us who want or need to remain online do so. The blanket "80% in person model" falsely  addresses our situation.

CUNY rightly requires an explanation for why one is seeking an accommodation. The forms for employees and their physicians are simple and only ask for vague explanations. Decisions as to why and what reasons will be accepted or denied are made by Human Resources officers with guidelines for allowances. I'm quite fond of those who labor in the HR office at CUNY Kingsborough. Their diligence, kindness, and sincerity have, in my 17 years of employment, helped me to navigate the density of the institution. I am grateful to them.

Still, I wish they had a border sense of what’s going on when it comes to me, some of my colleagues, and many of our students. 

Now that Covid is no longer an excuse for an accommodation, I submitted a revealing explanation for my request (with emphasis on my successes as a remote instructor). I shared with them the psychological ramifications of my return to in person instruction at this time and the likely impact on my physical health. I was honest and embarrassed by my honesty... and the rejection of my request somewhat humiliated me. 

So, in a week I begin my commute from Washington County to Kings County to return to the physical classroom. On the surface, I may look like a hale and hearty individual; however, inside, I’m an anxiety-ridden whirlwind of worries: Can I endure the 3:45 minute commute there and back? When (not if) I get COVID again, will I endure it? Will I spread it to my loved ones? Will I be as effective a physical presence for my students as I was in the past? And how about my colleagues? Will I be as useful, as supportive to them while carting my own baggage of complications back and forth?

I’m about to find out.

It's Been a Long Time...

Published in the Albany Times-Union this morning:

https://www.timesunion.com/opinion/article/commentary-remote-work-death-academia-17870285.php

I think some of my colleagues hate me. No one has said anything to my face, but I think they blame me and others like me for everything that's wrong.

I've been a teacher for 27 years, and before the pandemic sent us to remote locations, I doubt that I'd missed more than ten days of work. I prepped. I showed up. I taught. I held office hours. I graded papers. I went home to grade some more papers. Repeat.

Before March 2020, I was already extensively using online platforms like Blackboard to start discussions, post announcements and collect and assess essays. So when we were required to move our classes online, I was prepared. 

And for me, it all kind of worked out.

I teach at CUNY Kingsborough, the only community college in Brooklyn, and life was good there. I had an office with a window, many wonderful colleagues, a decent salary, health insurance, ambitious students, and a sense of purpose. When the pandemic hit, all of that remained the same ... but different. I still had a window, but it was in my living room; I became even closer to my colleagues as I supported their online needs; my salary was just enough; my health insurance was finally proving its worth; my students developed broader ideas of what they wanted to do in our transformed world; and my sense of purpose as an educator became more resolute.

And when our campus reopened, I remained online.

Underneath my aging facade is the culmination of a boyhood riddled with panic and loss -- all of which I only marginally held at bay. As a husband and father, my anxieties occasionally leaked onto the fabric of my family's life. But years of healthy practices, meditation and therapy have helped to suppress my emotional survivalism. COVID-19 ruined decades of progress. Everything that was wrong within me bubbled to the surface. My heart issues returned; fear-based compulsions took hold (as I obscenely stocked our cabinets with food and toilet paper); the idea of losing my loved ones kept me up at night; and I vigilantly adhered to all the safety recommendations and vaccinations.

And I kept going. I worked, provided and sought peacefulness.

 

Eventually, my family and I, like many others, moved out of New York City to a quaint hamlet in Washington County, and I got chickens. I still worked my butt off and started to develop a community of remote learners, many of whom were, in a way, doing what I was doing online for the same reasons – protecting, surviving, sometimes thriving.

And I fell in love with teaching again.

And then I was told that I would have to return to the classroom no matter what, and what was left of what I could control of my emotions spilled out. My physician listened to me and my heart palpitations, gauged my elevated blood pressure, and agreed with what I was feeling: "If you don't have to go back into the classroom, don't. It’s not worth it.”

But now, over a year later, my colleagues are complaining louder than ever. They would have others believe that those of us still teaching from home are the ruination of academia.

And I have to wonder, am I?

I am finding peace and doing a better job than I ever have; I'm more available to my students and colleagues; I continue to serve on committees and help shape curriculum; and, in many ways, I feel more a part of my community college than ever before.

 

So I may be representative of the end of CUNY, but I must be doing something right.

Brian Katz lives in the Fort Edward hamlet of Fort Miller.

 

 

Here was the humble, spirited, little body of hope -- Naveah Bravo. 

And yet America, her home, imposes a ceaseless and complete plague of violence upon the promise of us, murders the best of us, destroys the youth of us, snuffs out the light of us, and steals the hope from us.

Our Fault

Breaking my silence on political matters to briefly vent:

Did NATO really think that sanctions would've stopped Vlad the Terrible from reuniting the Soviet "Union"? We're talking about Russians -- among the hardiest, hardest people on the planet. How fucking stupid is the West? From feckless preventative measures to pointless rhetoric about "diplomacy," I'm absolutely disgusted by the whole response to Putin.

Shame on us for letting this happen to the Ukraine. We are partly responsible for this tragedy.

Tricky, tricky, tricky times...

If those on the Right continue to stockpile armaments, reshape the social and political landscape, and engage in rhetoric that would make Hitler blush, those on the Left, in their endeavor to seek humanistic resolutions, will be exposed and vulnerable. These are tricky times when pluralists like me are starting to wonder how to protect what we believe in when reason, discourse, and compromise are no longer viable ways to solve our deeply divisive cultural dilemmas. Heck, at 51 years old I'm still tough and my wife and daughter, both black belts, are even tougher, but against a Glock G19, Sig Sauer P938, Springfield XD-S, Ruger Lightweight Compact Pistol, and/or Smith & Wesson M&P Shield (America's favorite guns), our minds and fists are wimpier than vanilla pudding in a warm bowl. In the light of my ancestors, I worry about passivity as much as I worry about fighting fire with fire.

Again, these are tricky times... and I don't want to wake up in a year or so saying, "Well, I saw that coming." My genes, your genes, have been there before.

Centrifugal States of America

I loathe Facebook when national news breaks. Frightening opinions, uninformed diatribes, and fallacious attacks, some from people I once viewed as reasonable, litter my newsfeed and I'm reminded again why I avoid that virtual place. 

Partly thanks to social media (especially Facebook and Twitter), we have become a Centrifugal Nation compelled by the radicalizations of our ideologies to flee the center. We will soon be spun out, Balkanized, spilling into camps of blind fanaticisms -- far too lost to recover a sense of balance. I spent the majority of my political life identifying as a humanist which, I guess, labelled me as a "lefty" and liberal... and I was fine with that. But I now, more than ever, recognize the necessity of the Center. When in the middle, voices become centripetal forces which pull inward and hold the disparate pieces of our nation as part of the whole. We may not like some (or many) of these different views... but we practiced (a kind of) reason as a means to seek resolution. Now we spin outward in our virtual disconnections. Spin, spin, spin... and the center is almost lost as is our troubled, but often earnestly searching national soul. 

Ugh, enough!

 If I said I didn't want to list my pronouns because I simply don't want to (but if you want to, you definitely should!), a large portion of my social media "friends" would attack me for my lack of "wokeness." If I declared my absolute belief in a woman's right to choose, a battalion of past Catholic school acquaintances (mostly male) would condemn me to hell. If I told you I adored A.O.C. and admired John McCain (going so far as to donate to his primary campaign in 2000 in a measly, pathetic attempt to support his candidacy over Bush 2's), I would be dually (by libs and cons) raked over the political coals. If I suggested that J.K. Rowling had a reasonable point to make in regards to her idea of the epochally challenging experiences of being a woman but missed the boat by devaluing the humanity of identity, you probably would not ask me to elaborate and only publicly lambast me for the fragmented statement that she "had a reasonable point to make." I can't win; I'm not sure I want to win... but I do want personal honesty to be the foundation of discourse.

My opinions are transient, morphing concepts of temporality that are informed by communication. What happened to the discussions of ideas?

Heaven forfend I loudly express how vitally important these COVID vaccines are...

Ugh, enough! 

Since it's what we're all talking about today...

The second plane tore into the South Tower 20 years ago this morning:

Maria, who was four months pregnant, and I were living in Santa Monica, CA. Both of us were born and raised in NYC and both of us were, at the time, craving real bagels, real pizza, real pierogies, and real Chinese food. It's the curse of the transplanted New Yorker -- the things you miss like its food seem to weigh on your soul (and my soul is my stomach).

At the time, Maria was in graduate school and I was teaching at Yeshiva University High School of Los Angeles (YULA); and we were nervously planning to be parents. I was up at 6:00 AM for work and as I tuned into the morning news, the initial impact of Flight 11 was already about 15 minutes old and speculation as to what and why was the panicked tone. Then at around 6:03 AM PST, Flight 175 plowed into the South Tower and there I was, 3000 miles away watching, in real time, something devastate my Home. I woke Maria and we immediately went into recon mode. We called our mothers. Both were safe. My worries immediately shifted to my father, who I kind of knew would be travelling to his office in Midtown at around that time... He was safe. Then our other loved ones... then... then... and then I had to go to work. My students! It was only my first week as a new teacher at YULA and all of a sudden I was nearly overwhelmed by my need to see my students, to talk to THEM.

On 9/11/01 I discovered new levels of my devotion: I revere, above all, the first responders; I honor all those caught up and killed in the unholy smoke of that morning, some of whom were friends and practically family members; and I will forever admire New Yorkers for their resilience and fortitude. But among the remarkable people that changed me that day and in the following days were my students. Their sincerity, their earnestness, their eagerness to understand their new worlds raised me up, a mere transplanted New Yorker in California, and helped light MY way forward.

They still do.

Greek Alphabutt

 After "Lambda" there will be "Omega" and then "Alpha Alpha" and "Delta Delta"... then eventually "Lambda Lambda" and "Omega Omega"... and then the day will come when we, as an anti-science/mask-a-phobic society, become a pathetic Saturday Night Live episode (from, like, 1992 or something) living and dying through a "Delta Delta Delta" skit.

I wonder if we'll finally get the message when "Omicron Omicron Omicron Omicron Omicron" is the next COVID wave and "Psi Psi Psi Psi Psi" is on the horizon.

God help us, help us, help us!

A Metal Moment

Maria and I were on our way to the farmers market this morning when a woman walked past in a panic. She circled around us repeating, "Malocchio, malocchio!" 

It took us a second to realize what was happening and as she started backing away into the street I said, "It's only a tarot card. I can tell you what it means." 

"I don't want to know. I've seen evil," and through the daggers of her eyes she could've been referring to me. 

She prayed, "Dio, Dio, Dio [something, something, something]..." and then, "God be with you." 

I responded, "And Buddha with you." 

"Jesus, Jesus is my savior" and she lunged around the corner, wild-eyed and crossing herself. 

Such a metal moment!

I'm Shedding

Upstate NY: I'm having a nice chat with a neighbor's friend... and then, out of nowhere, he goes into one of those furious Trump supporter rants, "He was trying to save Social Security by letting all the older people die from COVID. You have to understand, he was doing everything he could to save America." You probably know the spiel. You've seen it in YouTube videos, on talk show clips, and in news channel segments. Then comes the anti-vaccine screed and I know I'm in trouble. Still, if Facebook has taught me anything (other than my absolute disdain for how the platform is managed), it's that arguing with a Trumper is like arguing with a rabid pit bull: There's no reasoning and even a baseball bat to the noggin isn't gonna get them to release their grip on your leg. So, he pauses, mid-wild eyes, and asks the question I've been dreading, "You're not vaxxed, right?" and in the second it took me to respond I processed a series of outcomes (like a Vulcan on speed)... none of them good. So, I said, "Yeah, I believe in the science. I was vaccinated early on." He starts backing away from me in a panic. "You're shedding. You know it's rewriting your DNA and you're shedding." Now a good 12 feet between us and my darling neighbor comes to the rescue with, "We have to go. I totally forgot I had an appointment." So, in the most Trumpian way, the plot has been entirely rewritten: Initially we were afraid of getting COVID from infected people; now people are afraid of getting an array of DNA-busting, phantom antibody magical death vibes from the vaccinated. Seriously, this is a real thing! People believe this shit. I know we've been calling our current state of affairs "Bizarro World" for quite some time, but in a Rick and Morty kind of twist upon the twist, I think we've entered the whacked-out sphere of the bizarre "Bizarro World."

Bodies Against Arms

Despite all of its flaws, American democracy is worth the risks and ought to be a morally accepted nonpartisan stance:

I understand the worry that pursuing, prosecuting, and convicting these insurrectionists, their defenders, and instigators will lead to more savage unrest. But the universal danger of not justly responding to these Neo-Nazis, white supremacists, conspiracy lunatics, and mashed-brained militia morons far outweighs the possible repercussions.

We cannot allow these willfully ignorant, psychotic whack-jobs and their messages and actions of hate to continue to infect our country. Maybe even more than COVID-19, this is the fight of our lives.

It Can Go Fuck Itself Forever

 2020 will feel our pain:

I'm updating Dante's Inferno to incorporate another level of Hell, henceforth known as "Inanitasia" -- a bastardized version of the Latin for "void." This new corner of Eternal Damnation resembles an abandoned New York City apartment reeking of disinfectant, littered with the inedible scraps of moldering home-baked bread, and blasted endlessly with the cacophony of emergency sirens and the tortured screams of unseen denizens losing their minds.

"Inanitasia" has only one resident: 2020.

Autocorrected

 When I write "fuck," autocorrect changes it to "duck"; and when I write "shit," autocorrect changes it to "shot." But sometimes, for no contextual reason, when I write "luck," it changes it to "fuck"; and occasionally when I write "shut," it changes it to "shit." 

When it comes to autocorrect, I have zero fuck. It pisses the shot out of me. Ah, but who gives a duck, right? I should just shit this feature off.

On the Verge

I've spent my life of 50 years insulated by democracy. From the ivory tower of our republic, I viewed those in other parts of the world desperately struggling to defend their rights, to legitimize their votes, and to oust dictators and corrupt regimes with a privileged inability to truly relate despite a heart-wrenching respect for their plights. Now, here we are! Sure, 2020's United States of America ain't Marcos' kleptocracy circa 1972... but it's getting ugly -- really, really ugly. It's getting so ugly that many of us are screaming the term "Civil War!" with the sickening anticipation of being violently consumed by our disparate political beliefs.

How the world shifts.

Borat Redux

 Just finished the new Borat film and it is absolutely cringe-inducing.

Three quick takeaways:

1. The two elderly, Jewish women who embrace the absurdly bigoted Borat in the synagogue are representative of all that is remarkably kind and enduringly loving in what is left of our humanity. [They're positively Christ-like in their forgiving nature.]

2. The shit many Americans will believe is, obviously, baseless, downright idiotic, and a threat to democratic ideals. [I'm not sure we can survive our stupidity.]

3. Rudy "the Demonic Elmer Fudd" Giuliani is representative of all that is determinately evil in the world.

Watch it... then take a long, hot shower to wash Sacha Baron Cohen's message off. His revelations are painfully sticky and not easily scrubbed away.

This film is even more relevant than the first one.

Evergreening

Pines, spruces, and firs (like my outdoor potted ones, pictured) bud a year in advance of actually growing new twigs. These little knobs that sprinkle the tips of the trees are as sure a sign as any that there will be another year and another year and another year. 

So, as I putter around the rooftop garden on this bright Sunday morning, I pine [pun intended] for social, political, and environmental progress. Will a year make a difference? Two? Three? 

I'm cautiously, nervously "evergreening."

How to Fly Away from the Cuckoo Games

I've been reading every goddamn plan I can find about restarting schools in the fall and they're all a mad mix of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest and The Hunger Games -- The Cuckoo Games!
Instead, there's a better way to navigate the pandemic while keeping our children safe, engaged, and educated. It's not the ideal approach (considering our many parallel and tangential concerns), but there's a way to do this while also creating a parity across the many divides:
A new Chromebook (or other cheap but effective computer) for all 56 million students in America would cost about $11,144,000,000 (retail). According to the FCC, a National Broadband Plan could cost as little as $20,000,000,000. To put these numbers in a type of head spinning perspective, Jeff Bezos' net worth is $166,300,000,000 and the U.S. defense budget is $721,531,000,000 (for 2020) -- a nationwide network would be pittance in comparison. Think about the manufacturing jobs this country-wide endeavor would generate. Think about all the newly trained builders and technicians and... Think about the many opportunities universal WiFi would create for our children!
Nothing will replace the actual classroom; however, it's time for the Ol' U. S. of A. to meet the virtual needs of Gen Z. I'm not suggesting that this will be easy; but I am suggesting that there are ways forward.
Forward!

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