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Michele
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1 year ago
in Unboxing the Pleo on Community Guy
The gadget-indifferent believes this begs the question, why not just adopt a puppy?
1 year ago
in The sad state of the “entertainment” biz on Community Guy
I once heard Chris Botti in concert and he spoke about how much he hated American Idol and its ilk because it makes young people believe that success happens overnight: all you have to do is audition for a ridiculous show and you're a superstar. But those superstars often have no staying power. Anyone heard from Taylor What's-his-name of late? I think the true innately-talented musicians who are fortunate to find the limelight through the show will endure. (By the way, does AI even have a level of competition where the singers perform their own work? Gee ... wonder why not?)
1 year ago
in Rapid Fire - Sunday, November 18 on Community Guy
... and concerning the Clinton site:
Always around preseidential election season (which has immeasurably surpassed Christmas as the most commercialized event of all time) I begin to wish that each state in the grand ol' US was it's own country. Sure, Lincoln wanted to preserve this union, but in his day the union was an unrecognizeable relic compared to the sheer numbers we have today. Is the US a community that can be effectively managed by one adminstration?
I think I have used my commenting allotment for the day, or possibly week now. :)
Michele
Always around preseidential election season (which has immeasurably surpassed Christmas as the most commercialized event of all time) I begin to wish that each state in the grand ol' US was it's own country. Sure, Lincoln wanted to preserve this union, but in his day the union was an unrecognizeable relic compared to the sheer numbers we have today. Is the US a community that can be effectively managed by one adminstration?
I think I have used my commenting allotment for the day, or possibly week now. :)
Michele
1 year ago
in Rapid Fire - Sunday, November 18 on Community Guy
Concerning the gay humor:
Am I correct that the online gaming demographic is predominantly male, possibly 12-30? Having witnessed face-to-face encounters amongst middle- and high-school males, gay "humor" (using the term loosely, because it's usually not funny nor intended to be) is rampant. Perhaps this is a subculture's revolt to a perceived threat of gay tolerance becoming an issue increasingly visible in society at large? Unless managed correctly, conflict brings out the worst in people.
Michele
Am I correct that the online gaming demographic is predominantly male, possibly 12-30? Having witnessed face-to-face encounters amongst middle- and high-school males, gay "humor" (using the term loosely, because it's usually not funny nor intended to be) is rampant. Perhaps this is a subculture's revolt to a perceived threat of gay tolerance becoming an issue increasingly visible in society at large? Unless managed correctly, conflict brings out the worst in people.
Michele
1 year ago
in Rapid Fire - Saturday, November 17 on Community Guy
This is a great article to note in my thesis (social/emotional learning in schools). Thanks!
Perhaps the adult equivalent is the post-it note? I'm recalling the Sex and the City episode.
Michele
Perhaps the adult equivalent is the post-it note? I'm recalling the Sex and the City episode.
Michele
1 year ago
in MarketingSherpa Interview on Community Guy
I'd love to read the article, but one must be a member to do so.
Michele
Michele
1 year ago
in Community Contest 2007: Pieces of You on Community Guy
I forgot to say that I'm not a gamer, so I'd like to abstain from the contest. I just wanted to share the story.
Michele
Michele
1 year ago
in Community Contest 2007: Pieces of You on Community Guy
Below is a story about how a website community deeply effected the lives of my second grade class:
The gleeful squeals of anticipation from bouncing little girls gave way to a stilled silence of wide-eyed, stunned awe, as twenty-one magenta-and-black backstage passes were distributed down this front row of young concert-goers. Small hand after small hand carefully peeled off the paper backing and reverently placed the boldly colored placard on their fronts. For some of the smallest amongst us, this promissory square bearing the artist's image almost covered completely their velvet-and-ribboned bodices. In the eternity of the next ten minutes, as we waited anxiously for our escort backstage, well-meaning and curious strangers made their way to the front row and voiced the wonderings of hundreds of onlookers: Who are you? How did you get your passes? Do you ALL get to see JOSH???
The short answer would be: we are a blessed and fortunate group of inner-city youth who were asked to be special backstage guests of Josh Groban before he took the stage in Phoenix on March 17, 2005. How we came to receive such an unbelievably gracious invitation is a much lengthier answer, indeed. The story begins over two years ago, when I first brought Josh’s debut CD into my classroom of first- and second graders.
I teach in a small, multi-age classroom charter school in the very heart of Tucson, Arizona. In our school, from kindergarten through twelfth grade, we have a total of 80 students. In my class I had but nine children. We operate in, as our local newspaper recently put it, “one of the toughest neighborhoods in the city.” Noted for its crime, this is not a place you would want to walk around at night. The streets are lined with tiny houses in various states of disrepair, some with chain-link dirt yards which harbor large, territorial dogs. On the occasional morning I would have to clear away the abandoned, empty alcohol bottles from the back door of my classroom.
Most of the children from this environment have never listened to any type of music other than rap, R&B or rock (and rock is becoming so passé to this population, it is considered a very nerdy musical preference). Indeed, many of my students were not aware that other genres of music even existed. In the beginning, outside of classroom singing, I had no other method through which to open up this world to them, for schools are perpetually operating on shoestring budgets and a CD player was just not feasible. At last, midway through the school year we were able to acquire one, and the children finally had their first taste of recorded music from worlds they never knew existed. I had brought in my own modest collection of which they had their daily choice of listening.
Out of these selections, “Josh Groban” was repeatedly slipped by small hands daily into the CD player. The effects were notable. They had never heard anything like this before. No matter what they happened to be working on, The Voice would reach their ears, momentarily captivating them, inevitably followed by the breathless, awestruck comment: “He sure does sing good.” Various little bodies would sometimes lie quietly and contentedly on the rug during free-time close to the boom box and allow the music to just flow over them. For one little boy in particular, it was life-changing. My eight year old student named Josh had not only severe speech problems, but also a serious reading disability. Although Josh was immeasurably precious in his compassion and helpfulness, he had all but given up on putting forth effort to even try to learn the entire alphabet. Never before had he encountered such a moving, powerful sound as this that came from the CD, and when he learned that this astounding voice emanated from a person named Josh, the affinity he immediately sensed motivated him to overcome his greatest challenges, and miraculously begin to learn to read.
As we progressed through that particular school year, I gradually became more aware that this class was no ordinary group of children. As I grew to know each one better, every child – every last one of them – had their own critical challenge to survive in their life. Some days, depending upon what the previous night or early morning had wrought, our class time resembled more of a support group than a classroom. You can’t concentrate on addition and subtraction or “i before e” when dad has abruptly left your family the night before. Some of these children were coming to school with serious issues, and given our small size, we used the opportunity to learn not only academics, but how to be a true friend. As we progressed in our school year, we learned how to listen, and we learned to ask the right questions. They learned how to distinguish good secrets and bad secrets, and most of all, how to give the gift of just being sad along with a friend rather than trying to fix it or make it better. They learned not only to care for each other, but how to verbalize it. And as I watched this challenged, yet remarkable, group of young children evolve from being a small class into a large family, the message in the song “You Raise Me Up” became their reality. They raised each other up throughout their hardships, and the song consciously became their anthem. As this metamorphosis continued, to my awe, I became acutely aware of just how fortunate I was to be sharing this year with these particular children, and I am convinced that something more than fate had led us all to the same time and place. Given their extraordinariness, I know these nine were brought together for reasons greater than simply educating them.
On the main website, they used the “Write to Josh” page almost every day, painstakingly typing out adoring messages and practicing their writing skills. I noticed that Sky had surfed her way over to the message boards. She was looking at the first page of the main forum … not doing anything, just reading the titles of the threads. I knew what she had stumbled upon but I casually inquired, “Sky, what have you found there?” She turned around and said with wonder, “I don’t know … but it sure looks like fun!”
I don’t know why I had not before considered that instead of passionately (albeit fruitlessly) writing to Josh over and over and over, they could actually interact with other fans. I asked them, “How would you guys like to write to other fans of Josh’s, who will actually write back to you?” I got a resounding, enthusiastic, “Yeah!!” and with that, the 2nd Grade Grobanites thread was born in the Discussions forum. It did not take more than two minutes before heaps of gracious Grobanites were posting back to these little ones, which spurred unfathomable wonder in the young minds on our end of the keyboard: “Who are these people?” “How do they know who we are?” “How do they read what we write?” “Do they all like Josh as much as we do?”
For an entire semester, the children not only shared their enthusiasm about Josh, but also came to relish the opportunity to share the joys and tribulations of their lives with others who so generously took the time to interact with a group of seven- and eight-year-olds. Our field trips, our topics of study, our artwork, our celebrations, our birthdays, and our achievements were chronicled by young fingers and received by benevolent grown-up friends. The fans who interacted with the children may have never fully understood what a gift this was to my students. From this neighborhood, the environment, and the family situations which some of them originated, some of my kids just didn’t have adequate enough adults in their lives to care about what they painted in school, or what they ate for lunch. But their website community friends did. They always did. They will never really know how instrumental they were in teaching this assorted group of disadvantaged children that there are compassionate people in this world who care. And in the end, in the good-bye message Jasmine posted, I think she summed it up best: “It was nice talking to good people.” (The thread, residing in the Archives forum, was unfortunately lost with a hacker’s attack, and is not recoverable.)
After the site administration read about this group of extraordinary children, we were graciously extended an invitation to meet with Josh himself. Josh kindly shared his time with the kids, listening to every word, autographing every peculiar item (Ariel brought her diary!), encompassing as many as he could into his outstretched arms for unending pictures, graciously accepting every token gift like it was one of the best things anyone had ever given him. He spent about fifteen minutes with our bubbly crew, and then said good bye as they floated back to the front-row seats kindly reserved for us.
Many of their fan friends from the website community generously crafted, donated and mailed gift bags to us. The kids had bracelets, stickers, flowers, pins, magnets and pictures. It took a full week for the students to come down off of their high, but all were left with an indelible memory of one of the greatest evenings of their lives. They are all genuinely, sincerely grateful. More than the concert, or the gifts, or even meeting their beloved Josh, the kindness and regard so generously shown to them by so many strangers-become-friends is a precious and unique gift which they all recognize, and will treasure forever.
Michele
The gleeful squeals of anticipation from bouncing little girls gave way to a stilled silence of wide-eyed, stunned awe, as twenty-one magenta-and-black backstage passes were distributed down this front row of young concert-goers. Small hand after small hand carefully peeled off the paper backing and reverently placed the boldly colored placard on their fronts. For some of the smallest amongst us, this promissory square bearing the artist's image almost covered completely their velvet-and-ribboned bodices. In the eternity of the next ten minutes, as we waited anxiously for our escort backstage, well-meaning and curious strangers made their way to the front row and voiced the wonderings of hundreds of onlookers: Who are you? How did you get your passes? Do you ALL get to see JOSH???
The short answer would be: we are a blessed and fortunate group of inner-city youth who were asked to be special backstage guests of Josh Groban before he took the stage in Phoenix on March 17, 2005. How we came to receive such an unbelievably gracious invitation is a much lengthier answer, indeed. The story begins over two years ago, when I first brought Josh’s debut CD into my classroom of first- and second graders.
I teach in a small, multi-age classroom charter school in the very heart of Tucson, Arizona. In our school, from kindergarten through twelfth grade, we have a total of 80 students. In my class I had but nine children. We operate in, as our local newspaper recently put it, “one of the toughest neighborhoods in the city.” Noted for its crime, this is not a place you would want to walk around at night. The streets are lined with tiny houses in various states of disrepair, some with chain-link dirt yards which harbor large, territorial dogs. On the occasional morning I would have to clear away the abandoned, empty alcohol bottles from the back door of my classroom.
Most of the children from this environment have never listened to any type of music other than rap, R&B or rock (and rock is becoming so passé to this population, it is considered a very nerdy musical preference). Indeed, many of my students were not aware that other genres of music even existed. In the beginning, outside of classroom singing, I had no other method through which to open up this world to them, for schools are perpetually operating on shoestring budgets and a CD player was just not feasible. At last, midway through the school year we were able to acquire one, and the children finally had their first taste of recorded music from worlds they never knew existed. I had brought in my own modest collection of which they had their daily choice of listening.
Out of these selections, “Josh Groban” was repeatedly slipped by small hands daily into the CD player. The effects were notable. They had never heard anything like this before. No matter what they happened to be working on, The Voice would reach their ears, momentarily captivating them, inevitably followed by the breathless, awestruck comment: “He sure does sing good.” Various little bodies would sometimes lie quietly and contentedly on the rug during free-time close to the boom box and allow the music to just flow over them. For one little boy in particular, it was life-changing. My eight year old student named Josh had not only severe speech problems, but also a serious reading disability. Although Josh was immeasurably precious in his compassion and helpfulness, he had all but given up on putting forth effort to even try to learn the entire alphabet. Never before had he encountered such a moving, powerful sound as this that came from the CD, and when he learned that this astounding voice emanated from a person named Josh, the affinity he immediately sensed motivated him to overcome his greatest challenges, and miraculously begin to learn to read.
As we progressed through that particular school year, I gradually became more aware that this class was no ordinary group of children. As I grew to know each one better, every child – every last one of them – had their own critical challenge to survive in their life. Some days, depending upon what the previous night or early morning had wrought, our class time resembled more of a support group than a classroom. You can’t concentrate on addition and subtraction or “i before e” when dad has abruptly left your family the night before. Some of these children were coming to school with serious issues, and given our small size, we used the opportunity to learn not only academics, but how to be a true friend. As we progressed in our school year, we learned how to listen, and we learned to ask the right questions. They learned how to distinguish good secrets and bad secrets, and most of all, how to give the gift of just being sad along with a friend rather than trying to fix it or make it better. They learned not only to care for each other, but how to verbalize it. And as I watched this challenged, yet remarkable, group of young children evolve from being a small class into a large family, the message in the song “You Raise Me Up” became their reality. They raised each other up throughout their hardships, and the song consciously became their anthem. As this metamorphosis continued, to my awe, I became acutely aware of just how fortunate I was to be sharing this year with these particular children, and I am convinced that something more than fate had led us all to the same time and place. Given their extraordinariness, I know these nine were brought together for reasons greater than simply educating them.
On the main website, they used the “Write to Josh” page almost every day, painstakingly typing out adoring messages and practicing their writing skills. I noticed that Sky had surfed her way over to the message boards. She was looking at the first page of the main forum … not doing anything, just reading the titles of the threads. I knew what she had stumbled upon but I casually inquired, “Sky, what have you found there?” She turned around and said with wonder, “I don’t know … but it sure looks like fun!”
I don’t know why I had not before considered that instead of passionately (albeit fruitlessly) writing to Josh over and over and over, they could actually interact with other fans. I asked them, “How would you guys like to write to other fans of Josh’s, who will actually write back to you?” I got a resounding, enthusiastic, “Yeah!!” and with that, the 2nd Grade Grobanites thread was born in the Discussions forum. It did not take more than two minutes before heaps of gracious Grobanites were posting back to these little ones, which spurred unfathomable wonder in the young minds on our end of the keyboard: “Who are these people?” “How do they know who we are?” “How do they read what we write?” “Do they all like Josh as much as we do?”
For an entire semester, the children not only shared their enthusiasm about Josh, but also came to relish the opportunity to share the joys and tribulations of their lives with others who so generously took the time to interact with a group of seven- and eight-year-olds. Our field trips, our topics of study, our artwork, our celebrations, our birthdays, and our achievements were chronicled by young fingers and received by benevolent grown-up friends. The fans who interacted with the children may have never fully understood what a gift this was to my students. From this neighborhood, the environment, and the family situations which some of them originated, some of my kids just didn’t have adequate enough adults in their lives to care about what they painted in school, or what they ate for lunch. But their website community friends did. They always did. They will never really know how instrumental they were in teaching this assorted group of disadvantaged children that there are compassionate people in this world who care. And in the end, in the good-bye message Jasmine posted, I think she summed it up best: “It was nice talking to good people.” (The thread, residing in the Archives forum, was unfortunately lost with a hacker’s attack, and is not recoverable.)
After the site administration read about this group of extraordinary children, we were graciously extended an invitation to meet with Josh himself. Josh kindly shared his time with the kids, listening to every word, autographing every peculiar item (Ariel brought her diary!), encompassing as many as he could into his outstretched arms for unending pictures, graciously accepting every token gift like it was one of the best things anyone had ever given him. He spent about fifteen minutes with our bubbly crew, and then said good bye as they floated back to the front-row seats kindly reserved for us.
Many of their fan friends from the website community generously crafted, donated and mailed gift bags to us. The kids had bracelets, stickers, flowers, pins, magnets and pictures. It took a full week for the students to come down off of their high, but all were left with an indelible memory of one of the greatest evenings of their lives. They are all genuinely, sincerely grateful. More than the concert, or the gifts, or even meeting their beloved Josh, the kindness and regard so generously shown to them by so many strangers-become-friends is a precious and unique gift which they all recognize, and will treasure forever.
Michele
