Amendments, Corrections, and Recommendations: A Final Family Ties Post*

Before I get to some episode recommendations and suggestions for further reading, here are a few updates, in no particular order:

• I wondered if the Keatons had an answering machine; well, they do get one in season four, and the kids spend one episode changing the outgoing messages on each other, but then it never really figures in the plot again. (It seems to physically disappear, too, but don't quote me on that).

• I wrote that we never see the Obecks - the Keatons' neighbors until they move out and the Thompsons move into that house - or Chrissy, Jennifer's best friend, but neither of those claims turned out to be true. We do meet one Obeck, daughter Liz, in the episode "The Big Fix" in season five. At the end of season five we also meet Chrissy, in a two-part episode about Jennifer trying to change to fit in with a popular crowd. 

"It's My Party" is a great example of a strange and not-great phenomenon on Family Ties: airing episodes out of order. Characters, especially Jennifer and Andrew, are clearly younger in "Party" than they have been for the entire season, and Alex's girlfriend Ellen is still around, even though she left for Paris ages ago. This episode was filmed in season four but - saved? forgotten? deemed subpar but trotted out to fill scheduling needs? It's unclear. (Which is not to say it doesn't have its great moments, my favorites being when Ellen gives Jennifer an old Mondale and Ferraro shirt for her birthday and when the parents try to decipher a note Jennifer has left them; it's a minefield of "like" and "okay?").

What can I say? I'm a sucker for political t-shirts...

…and textual analysis.

• One more update before we move on: I speculated that one reason the show creates a friend for Alex only to kill him off might have been because the actors who had played his established friends were not available. I don't know if the writers or casting director considered killing off Timothy Busfield or Jeffrey Joseph's characters for "A, My Name is Alex" in 1987, but maybe you've heard of a little thing called thirtysomething? That started airing in 1987, as did The Popcorn Kid, a TV series that Joseph had a recurring part in. So these actors were a little busy. (Plus, Busfield had already been assigned double duty on the show; in addition to being Alex's friend, he was also cast in an episode's flashback sequence as one of college-age Steven's friends. But then again, what's two roles for the same actor? The show went higher for others). 

Both Timothy Busfield (top) and Jeffrey Joseph (above) appeared as Alex's friends in two episodes.
That amounted to close friendship in the Family Ties universe. 

Now for some recommendations! Let's start with a few individual scenes and then go to whole episodes. Of course, it depends on what you're looking for:

• Are you looking for some feminist education for little boys? Look no further than "The Way We Were" in season six, which opens with Alex coming home to find his parents asleep on the couch and Andy playing garage. Alex sees a Barbie doll and picks it up. "What's she doing here?" he asks.

"That's Barbie," Andy says. "She owns the garage."
"Barbie owns the garage?"
"Really she's in Congress, but on weekends she's a mechanic."
"I think I see mom's influence here," Alex says.
"She also won the Nobel Prize in Physics," Andy adds.

The debate about Barbie's identity devolves into a tug of war.
These three actors are routinely great together.

• Or maybe you feel stifled on the set and you want to see footage filmed outside?  This happens rarely on the show, and the first such images don't occur until the end of season three in the two-part episode "Remembrance of Things Past." Steven and the family return to his childhood home in Buffalo; his father has died and his mother is thinking about selling the house. Steven visits his father's grave.

• Or perhaps you long for some good old-fashioned miming. When Jennifer gets her learner's permit in the season seven episode, "My Best Friend's Girl," Steven insists on giving her driving lessons. This includes a simulation in the kitchen, during which he says she ran a red light. Jennifer counters that there's a cop behind them. "I'm gonna try to lose him," she says.           

                                            
                                           
                                           

As for whole episodes, that also depends on what you're looking for. But I will say that if you're a teacher or interested in education, you might find the episodes that center around teachers notable.

• "Little Man on Campus" in season three is about Alex starting college and struggling: he considers dropping American Government because he got an F on his first paper - he doesn't think he can hack it in that class. (Notice how it doesn't occur to him to blame the teacher or make excuses for himself). But when he goes to drop the class, his teacher questions him until he gets Alex to understand how to make an original argument. And it's not an abstract discussion - it's a conversation, and argument, about Eugene Debs and Oliver Wendell Holmes. 
• "Paper Chase," the final episode of season four, is about how Mallory nearly flunks her history class and doesn't graduate from high school. But with the encouragement of her family, boyfriend, and teacher, she passes her oral exam and graduates after all. Her requests for extra credit are rebuffed; her only recourse is hard work, and it works. (It's also fun to see the oral exam, which people such as Rebecca Schuman have tried to revive, in messy, Socratic action). 

Skippy graduates too!
How could I get this far with only the merest nods at Marc Price,
who plays neighbor Skippy Handelman?

For instance, this shirt: starting in season five and continuing until the end of the show,
you cannot swing a dead cat without hitting Skippy in this shirt.
I still haven't figured out what that woman in the blue dress is doing.

• There's "Paper Lion" in season five, which I mentioned in my discussion of Mason Adams in the in memoriam post. It's an interesting story: he's a longstanding, well-regarded economics professor, but he feels pressure to publish from the administration, so he pretends the data in his latest work isn't flawed. Alex calls him out on it, and the professor ultimately comes clean. "I am a teacher," he declares from the pulpit at an awards ceremony. "And in a college, there's nothing more important than that." Aw, sweetie, you want to say, reaching across the screen and back through time. What a lovely thought. 
• And finally, there's the two-part episode "Read It and Weep" in season six. Jennifer wants to do her book report on Huckleberry Finn, but the school board has banned it (and a number of other books). She refuses to change her book and is suspended. Her teacher is afraid of supporting her publicly, thinking he'll lose his job, but after hearing her speak up at a community meeting, he and other teachers decide that they're going to stage a walk out to protest her suspension. This episode, like "Paper Lion," points toward the challenges teachers face, but although it also features someone proclaiming, "I am a teacher," it seems less enamored of the lone individual as role model; it suggests that an answer can be found in collective action. 

There's some fairly stilted dialogue in "Read It and Weep," including references to Supreme Court cases and characters reading aloud from Huckleberry Finn, but it's also an interesting portrait of censorship at the high school level and the school board overreach that was not uncommon in the 1980s.  

The vision of teaching on the show is lecture-driven, overwhelmingly male (of the aforementioned teachers, only Mallory's is female), and entirely white. So there are very real limitations to and problems with it - and there were in the '80s, too. But it makes for an interesting artifact with some still-applicable lessons.

On a different note, I'll also recommend "Heartstrings" from season seven, which was the only three-part episode in the show's run. Steven has a heart attack and undergoes surgery. There are flashbacks, but unlike with a clip show, they are to scenes we've never seen before, and they add to the story. Three episodes gives the narrative enough space to move from sadness and fear to humor and strength without feeling cramped or rushed.

Finally, some recommendations for further reading: 

• The 2013 Rolling Stone interview with Michael J. Fox gives a comprehensive, introspective overview of his life and career and where he is now.
• The New York Times Style section profiled Meredith Baxter's wedding last year, at which Michael Gross gave a toast.
• Also in the Times, a great piece in July by Eric Schulmiller about anticipating catching up with the timeline from Back to the Future and the difference between our future as we imagined it and as we live it.   
• And show creator Gary David Goldberg's obituary (he died last year).

* I think this will be my last post about the show. Thanks for reading! 

Feeling a Little Zapped

A friend of mine teaches high school English, and when I saw her the other day she told me that her school is considering moving to a no zero policy - students wouldn't be given zeros for missed homework but instead would have to stay after school or arrive before school to make up missed work. The idea, my friend explained, is that students will be more motivated by the infringement on their time than they will be by a bad grade. Also, some administrators argue that a zero is too punitive, too discouraging for struggling students, and that it  mathematically skews a student's GPA to boot - every other letter grade, A-D, runs on a 10-point scale, but an F plunges a student into a difficult - and numerically misleading - abyss. Giving a 50 instead - or, in the case of some schools, an even higher minimum - will still mean giving a failing grade but won't disrupt the scale nearly as much as a zero.

My friend works hard, has 150 students, and is naturally exhausted. "My principal says that the research supports it," she said of the no zero policy. "Will you read 'the research' for me and sum it up?" she half-joked, half-seriously asked. "Because I don't have time to."

So (procrastinating on my own work, naturally!) I did do a little research of my own. Despite various differences, there's a unified name for these programs - Zeros Aren't Permitted, or ZAP. A quick Google search reveals that some have been around for years, and you can find them across the country. I also checked out the education database ERIC and found several articles on minimum grading, including a 2012 Educational Researcher article that reports on a seven-year study of a high school. "Statistical analyses revealed no evidence that minimum grading was inducing either grade inflation or social promotion," the authors write.

Artificially high grades and passing students into the next grade level before they're academically prepared - those are genuine concerns, and it's good to know that minimum grading doesn't seem to add to those problems. But what about other objections? For example, do these policies effectively tell a middle or high school student that no work or late, incomplete, or otherwise lacking work will still result in no less than 50 points - that nothing will always equal something? Or that they'll never have the choice or freedom to just not do something? Or that their time will never truly be their own - that "lunch" can always become a "working lunch"? Or that, I don't know, learning and working aren't ever enough to be their own reward?

And what about teachers? If you're supposedly autonomous in your classroom but nonetheless "strongly discouraged" from giving zeros, as discussed in this recent piece about the Virginia Beach school district, what do you do?

I believe wholeheartedly in equal opportunities in education, in helping students who need it, and study halls, tutoring sessions, and other services can and do help. I've taught classes where I've accepted late work in part because I recognize that all students sometimes have bad days or need a little extra time. But I don't accept late work for full credit, and no work = zero. I'm part of the college system that many of these ZAP youth will be entering. But honestly, I'm less concerned that the students won't be prepared for college than that colleges will change too, and one day no one will remember what was funny and painful about Power Points with sentences like this: "The vision of the ZAP program is to: Create a school climate which fosters academic success for those students not turning in homework." 

Swimming Away from "LeAnne"

I've been thinking a lot about course evaluations lately, probably because I'm teaching at a university and it's my first job out of grad school and my contract has not been officially renewed. And because my numbers from last quarter are not what I would have liked and there's at least one review of my teaching on Rate My Professor that is negative. (So, you know, no reason!)

I say "at least one" because I haven't been able to bring myself to go back there after seeing that one, the first. I used to Google my name occasionally because I thought that being aware of search results was part of being a responsible adult in the world. And I did find it interesting to see what made it to the front page - my participation in the Seattle Edible Book festival or my tutoring bio or a short story I wrote when I was 14, somehow surfacing from the Internet deep 20 years later.

I guess I was a digital innocent though, because all that stuff was positive or neutral (well, maybe not everything in that story. Who is only admiring of their 14 year-old self other than some 14 year-olds?) Now I'm finding that I don't want to know about this self out of there that's supposedly me. Maybe it sounds funny or hypocritical to write that here, on a blog - if I don't want to participate in the Internet, what am I doing here?

I used to want to be famous, or at least have famous friends. When I was 11, I wanted to be orphaned so I could live with the cast of Cheers. (There's so many things wrong with that sentence, aren't there?) But if I can't handle ordinary disgruntled students, how could I handle 1/10th of the negative attention someone like Anna Gunn gets? (Woman, you are amazing).

Anyway, I've also been re-reading Art and Fear. Here's a passage I like:

                     The audience is seldom in a position to grant (or withhold)  
                     approval on the one issue that really counts - namely, whether
                     or not you're making progress in your work. They're in a good
                     position to comment on how they're moved (or challenged or
                     entertained) by the finished product, but have little knowledge
                     or interest in your process.

Students aren't an audience, but they (rightfully) don't care about the teacher's process of learning to become a teacher. They can talk authoritatively about the finished product of our classroom, but they don't know if I'm making progress. In teaching, unlike in art, progress isn't the one thing that really counts; it's pretty low on the list, below, you know, student learning. And I want to learn from my students in all the genres available to me, including their direct, written assessments. But they aren't taught how to write course evaluations, so the Internet (Rate My Professor, etc.) is their main teacher. And the Internet has a tendency to teach its students to be mean. Just ask Anna Gunn.

What am I doing here? I'm processing stuff, on my own terms. I'm having a conversation with you dear, few readers (hello there!) I'm not trying to create a brand or become famous. I'm not checking to see who Google thinks I am today. I have colleagues whom I like and respect who can read what their students think of them and more or less happily swim up and away; maybe someday I'll be like them. But for now I fear that if I swim into the deep of who the Internet thinks I am, I'll only get lost. Is there a name for this purposeful turning away other than "thin-skinned"?

When Blogs Die

Don't worry, faithful 3 or 5 readers! I'm not killing this thing yet. I'm thinking about the phenomenon of teachers incorporating blogging into coursework. It's not something I've done myself, but last quarter I took two classes where it was either required - as in this case - or optional - as in this. But now those blogs sit there, most likely unread and unused, and that makes me a little sad.

"Things change," my father might say, taking a nonchalant bite out of his peanut butter sandwich. Yes. And as a recent review of my own blog list demonstrates, people abandon or delete their blogs all the time. But given that, how useful are blogs as teaching tools? Would it make more sense for teachers to ask students to post to pre-existing, more heavily trafficked sites than to create new forums that seem to only have a shelf life, and a core audience, that lasts as long as the class itself?