I have been doing a little opinionizing this week, and in an effort to underpin that with actual facts, I've done a bit of research and also a good deal of introspect examination based on my own experiences teaching for 25 years. In my 25th, I hope to keep racking up those years. My prospects of doing so, however, are looking less hopeful by the day this week. The new administration, which I supported with my vote and with my modest social media presence, is not helping. I think that is likely a result of its own pining to return to education "the way we've always done it" (the most harmful words in our cultural phrasebook, in my humble opinion). I wrote something: The Case for Real Virtual Learning By Scott Merrick January 23, 2021 The context in which I write is Covid-19 and its growing army of mutations, and the hold the pandemic has on how we learn and teach. Legions of politicians and pundits cry out for the re-opening of school buildings. The topic has
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New Single
H ello, y'all. I'm off into another school quarter, and, yes, off on another little "share out things I made" project. This one involves posting songs I have written and recorded over the years, specifically those written for the dear love of my life, Lee Ann. I'm going to release a new A side/B side set at characteristically irregular intervals, on Bandcamp, and thereby make them available for a listen. I'm not interested in making the big buck here, of course. Those who know me have heard me quote my dear long-departed daddy, who used to quip, "Ain't no pockets in them shrouds." I'm not looking to experience that fact anytime soon: I am staying in, teaching from home, walking my dog, and maybe, but rarely, hitting the grocery store at opening hour, double-masked. I think come next Christmas I will share the many "12 poems of Christmas" collections I wrote for her as well. But that's another time and another project. I hope
The Water is Wide
The Water is Wide Recorded in Nashville's West Park Accompaniment: Briley Parkway Traffic Birds Footsteps Origins of The Water is Wide
Running--The Whole Shebang!
Running By Scott Gardner Merrick ©1983 by Scott Gardner Merrick, rev. June 2020 Inception The morning’s first mile was pure pain in a package, and the package was six feet tall. Every swallow of last night’s beer seemed to have settled around his mid-section. Will’s chest felt as if it had atrophied overnight: breathing came with almost overwhelming effort. Come on legs. Feets don’t fail me now. Jesus, each single stride had to be written up in triplicate and submitted to both houses of his muscle and bone congress before it could pass. Into the cool October morning. Toward Vasona Park. He was counting, as he often did, and his chronometer was flashing hundredths of seconds in its gray pool of digital ripples. He could stop the blasted thing with the pressure of one forefinger on a little plastic nipple, or he could tweak another to show his lap time, making the digits at least appear to hold still while all the while the little devils marched inexorably onward under the display,