Delightfully, the engaging and lovely author of Simple Life in France has resurfaced. She’s been a bit out of commission, between surviving the first few months of gravitude and uncertainty about where DH will be assigned, now that he’s fully recovered from injuries sustained in a car wreck.
O me of little faith! I thought she had abandoned the blogging life (to get back to real life, perhaps?) and so had deleted her link from the blogroll. But now she’s back, it’s back. Go there. Enjoy!
Does anybody know how to get to the cookies thing in Firefox 3.6.8? Somehow all cookies have been disabled on the laptop,and so it won’t let me sign into gmail, and so I can’t get my gmail, and I can’t comment on any Blogger sites.
Tools doesn’t seem to have the option. Here’s what I get on my Tools menu:
In Firefox Tools, I get Web Search, Downloads, Add-ons, Error Console, and Page Info. Stop Private Browsing and Clear Recent History are disabled.
In Edit, no relevant options. In View > Toolbars, no way to get anything up that looks like it might be useful.
I think what’s happened here is that I installed Taco 3.0 with Abine, a souped-up privacy program that sounded like a great idea but evidently is some sort of rogue software. You can uninstall the Taco 3.0 part, but Abine gets its tentacles into the guts of your system and won’t let go. From Google searches I see I’m not the only one with this problem and also that apparently uninstalling FireFox and reinstalling it doesn’t help. Being tired & at the end of my rope, I haven’t tried that.
Has anybody had any experience with this? I’m over in Safari now but much prefer FF for navigation and general security. But now can’t make comments on Blogger sites like Frugal Scholar because I can’t get into Gmail on FF.
’Tis the season for blog launches! Over at Financial Samurai, Sam himself announces the birth of another new site, Yakezie.com. It features a scholarship funded by Yakezie, a series of posts by people with unusual lifestyles, and much promise for even more.
With considerable help from Evan of My Journey to Millions, I’ve started a new site: The Half-Off Diet™. I probably should’ve called it The Half-Off Diet Challenge™, because that’s what it’s all about: a challenge to reach a goal simply by cutting the amount of what you regularly eat and drink by 50 percent.
This self-indulgent practice aims to bring us back down to our normal weight without depriving ourselves. The idea is not to do without the things you love to eat. Instead, the theory is that if you eat about half of what you’re accustomed to scarfing down—no matter what those delectables are—you should lose weight.
The ground rules are not very limiting:
• Eat half of your normal servings for breakfast, lunch, dinner, snacks desserts, and any drinks with calories.
• Try to stick with minimally processed, whole foods, avoiding junk food to the extent possible.
• Prefer fruit juices to soda pop, on the theory that soda provides no nutrition (you’ll need that if you’re going to drop to half-rations!). But if you can’t do without soda, drink half as much as usual.
• Pursue balanced meals: meat, vegetable (including salads), starch. If you’re a veggie, obtain your protein through healthy combinations of appropriate foods. Try to get green, yellow, and red veggies every day.
• Prefer fresh fruits to sugary desserts and snacks. But if you’re going to indulge, eat just half a portion of the sweet goodie.
• Never starve yourself. Eat at least three square meals a day.
What could be simpler?
Each Friday, I’ll remind readers to report their progress, which I’ll post on The Half-Off Challenge page. Then we’ll be able to see how this works.
The site is intended to be a community effort. I hope readers will share recipes, stories of their success (how did you do it? and what challenges did you overcome?), and anecdotes about their dieting adventures. Guest posts are invited!
Okay, so one train of thought that’s been going on here at Funny about Money has to do with the dawning realization that I’m spending too many hours on work that doesn’t pay a living wage and too few hours on actual…well, living.
In a good month, FaM returns about two hundred bucks, and that’s fine, because it’s exactly the amount I need to get out of one section of freshman comp a year. Or, more to the point, to make up for an assigned section that doesn’t gel.
And I normally make $200 or $250 a month reading detective novels (!) for my favorite client, Poisoned Pen Press. This amount covers a second freshman comp section each year, and of course it’s pay for play.
So, between them these two piddling sources of income either give me the option of teaching two and two (i.e., two courses a semester) instead of three and three or provide a safety net should one of three assigned sections not gather enough students to fly.
For both these income streams, pay per hour is beneath laughable. FaM earns about $6.67 a day, on average; spending two hours on a post and another hour on blog-related web-surfing yields a pay rate of $2.19 an hour. Earnings for editing the novels are somewhat better: $12 an hour.
Usually, those novels serve as bed-time reading, so the work I do on them doesn’t occupy productive daytime hours.
After a little experimentation, I’ve found that if I get up off my rear end in the morning and do some yardwork, housework, dog walking, or socializing before settling in to paying work, I can put off writing blog posts until the evening. It’s something that can be done, as it was in the beginning, from an overstuffed chair in front of the television. That strategy defuses the blogging work by moving it out of daytime hours that should be better paid or at least should provide some fun, exercise, or relaxation time.
Now. What about the teaching?
What, really, does it pay by the hour? And is there a way to manage time used in teaching to ensure a decent hourly wage?
Well, I did a little English-major math and made some interesting discoveries. First, I posited that a “decent” rate would be about $30 an hour, approximately what I was earning at GDU before the layoff. Second, I established that I should work no more than five days a week—I should get weekends off to sing in the choir, schmooze with my son, and do whatever I feel like doing. A community college course here in Maricopa County, Arizona, pays $2,400. With those as givens, let us ask…
How many hours can you put into a community college course and still earn a decent wage?
Okay, so what we see here is that no matter how many weeks the course spans, the maximum number of hours you can work on the course to keep the pay rate at $30/hour or better is 80. Next area of inquiry: is that realistic?
To keep your rate at $30/hour, what is the maximum number of hours you could spend on a course working outside of class meeting time?
Well, if you add up the number of hours per period and multiply by the number of class meetings, you find that an eight-week course meets about 42 hours; a sixteen-week course meets 40 hours. Since the excessively long meeting time for the short-form course requires several breaks, you could (sort of) argue that class meeting time for the eight-week course is actually about 40 hours, too.
A fully online course, by definition, has no class meetings, but it requires a great deal more course preparation time.
To keep your pay rate at $30 an hour for an eight-week course, you could spend no more than five hours a week outside of class, giving you one hour a day of grading and interaction time.
With no face-to-face (F2F) time, an online course provides a full ten hours a week for grading and online interaction with students.
For a 16-week F2F course, you could spend no more than two and a half hours a week outside of class. That’s only a half an hour a day, five days a week.
On the face of it, this doesn’t look very practical; realistically, one spends many hours a week reading student papers and answering e-mails. However, it’s not as dire as the figures above suggest, because you can manipulate due dates so that some weeks pass with no incoming. So, let’s look at this from a slightly different perspective:
How many hours does it really take to grade student papers?
The community college district requires four papers for English 101 and three papers for English 102. A typical set of freshman comp papers takes four to six hours to grade.
Okay, an hour an a half is still not long enough to grade a set of papers. However, assuming one doesn’t have to grade a set of papers every single week, then what? In fact, with 40 hours of in-class time, you have another 40 hours, at $30/hour, available to read student papers. That provides plenty of leeway to perform 24 hours’ worth of grading!
This optimistic conclusion, alas, leaves out the untold numbers of hours one spends in course preparation.
How much time could you spend on course prep and still gross $30 an hour?
In reality, it takes about four or five full-time, eight-hour days to prep a composition course, especially in the semesters when a new edition of the overpriced textbook comes out.
Thus, to make this work, prep time would have to be cut to no more than sixteen to twenty-two hours. All scutwork—that is, all checking and scoring of in-class exercises, drafts, and homework—would have to be foisted on a teaching assistant, so that all the instructor had to read would be the required, final full-length papers. Assuming about 15 or 16 hours of scutwork, I could afford to pay a T.A. $10 an hour and still be left with enough to buy groceries.
If all one read were the required papers and a T.A. scored the other student activities, how many hours would you spend on a course and what would you earn per hour?
It works out. Of course, about fifteen of those hours would actually earn only $20/hour, but the $10/hour wage for one’s T.A. would be tax-deductible.
In its strange way, this perspective starts to make things look a little better. First, what we see is that teaching, even adjunct, is my best and steadiest source of income. And on inspection, we see that I’m actually grossing approximately what I earned, per hour, at GDU. It explains why I seem to have plenty of cash during the nine months of the school year, and it suggests that even one course over the summer would chase away the summertime budgetary doldrums.
What can be done to bring course preparation time under control?
There, too, I have a plan.
The base content (such as it is) of freshman composition has not changed since I started teaching the subject about 40 years ago. There are only so many ways you can explain what an essay is, what a research paper is, and how to write them. This means that every newly adopted textbook and every new edition of an existing textbook is just another rehash of the same material.
So, prep time could be cut by creating fungible modules that can be plugged in to each new semester’s sections to fit time available. We might call such modules “learning module templates.” These would key reading assignments to subject matter, and writing assignments to specific patterns of development, not to chapters in the current textbook. Thus if in a given week you want to teach students a specific mode of discourse, you simply take whatever textbook you’re handed and look for the chapters or passages that discuss that.
To avoid having to create new assignments for each new textbook edition, you would have to be sure never to key a writing assignment to a reading selection (i.e., a sample essay) printed in the text, since these tend to change as new editions are churned out. You could require students to use the book’s selections as source material for their essay citations; this wouldn’t stop plagiarism, but at least students would feel they were using the textbooks more fully.
Each module could contain the following
• The module’s learning goals • Subject matter that should be addressed in reading • Homework, related to this subject matter but independent of specific reading matter • In-class lectures, discussions, and activities • Writing assignment, if any (depending on the number of weeks/course)
If you made the modules generic enough, it would be very easy to pick and choose to fit your timeframe, and quick to plug in new reading material and resources to make the broad choices specific.
It would take some time to create these things, but once they were in place, each semester’s prep time would drop to a few hours.
So what does it all mean for Working Smarter?
In the first place, sideline enterprises that earn less than a living wage should be relegated to the status of hobbies. They should not be permitted to consume time that could be spent more profitably, nor should they be allowed to morph into work.
Blogging, for example, should be as entertaining as reading detective novels. It should never be treated as a job. In other words, I should not be trudging in to my office every morning, there dutifully to crank out another post. I should not be checking e-mail every few hours to screen out spam and accept comments from real humans—instead, do this at the end of the day. Adsense? Alexis? Google Analytics? Awstats? Is there some point in tracking data whose significance is negligible, except as gratification for a hobby? Obviously not. These should be ignored; certainly never checked more than once a week.
In the second place, the number of hours put into decently paying work should be tightly controlled so that the per-hour wage never drops below a minimum threshold.
With teaching, it appears this is eminently possible. Medicare keeps overhead down so that, given enough sections, $30 an hour amounts to a middle-class wage. The only drawback to focusing solely on teaching as the “real” source of income is that it doesn’t pay enough to add to savings. However, next year I should be able to get some summer courses, and in that case, any editing and blogging income can be rolled into savings. That would fund my Roth each year, as long as I can dodder into a classroom or sit in front of computer to teach an online course.
And there really is no third place. It’s pretty simple.
• Move the hobby income out of the center of one’s field of vision. • Focus on the endeavor that earns the most money. • Control time spent on that endeavor to maximize per-hour income.
Another best-laid plan gone awry: I had determined not to post today, but instead to spend Sunday doing other things, most of which entailed getting some exercise and schmoozing with actual humans instead of hanging out with a small dog.
BUT… It’s almost 9:00 a.m., and it’s just 80 degrees here on the back porch! A light breeze is pushing fresh air through the house, and the hummingbirds are jousting over the sugar water ten feet from my table. The houseplants, sated with rainwater, are glorying in the morning sunlight filtered through a layer of pearlescent clouds.
Weather like this is too miraculous to waste sitting inside a church. God, I’m sure, meant us to appreciate Her creation in the experiencing of it.
Sometime around 5:30, Cassie and I awoke to a lovely steady rain. Last night 80 degrees was so damp and sticky as to be gummy; this morning, with the moisture finally dropping out of the sky, the air is fresh and delicious.
After stuffing the dog with leftover chicken, veggies, and quinoa, I realized the indoor plants needed to be watered today and so hauled them out into the rain, and also put the big old five-liter vinegar jugs now used for fertilizing plants under the eaves to collect runoff. (Did you realize it’s against the law to collect rainwater runoff in many Western states? Yesh. Usurps the water rights of downstream and water table users!) So now we have two and a half big jugs of illicit water, capped and stored for the next round of houseplant watering activities. Another jug and a half are empty, but the skies promise still more rain; no doubt those will soon fill, too.
So, it was breakfast on the back porch, for the first time in many a week. How can I express my joy? LOL…maybe this guy can:
You realize, this meant I managed to actually read part of today’s Times! Speaking of the which, did you read Virginia Heffernan’s “The Medium” this morning? She holds forth on the sad devolution of the ScienceBlogs network from its former Elysian eminence to what she describes as a culture of one-liners, and its break-up over a tacky blog, a creature of PepsiCo, that the administrators, for reasons comprehensible only to those who have worked for commercial print periodicals, decided to put on the site. Heffernan notes a break-down in civility that echoes, sadly given the expensive education and supposed sophistication of the scientists and science writers involved, the tone of far too many much lower-brow sites. She even grouses at GrrlScientist, one of my favorite science blogs, for a crack about the “hugely protruding bellies and jiggling posteriors” of the megafauna visible in any of America’s public places.
Alas, if you track down the quote and visit the post to check out what was really said, you get a blank page (or at least, you do at 9:30 Sunday, August 1, 2010); presumably, either the author has taken it down or traffic is maxing the page. However, it appears that Heffernan took GrrlScientist’s words out of context, or at least so says Kathy Gill at the Moderate Voice. She cites the protrusions and the jigglings along with the words around them. Said GrrlScientist:
It’s taken me a few hours to cool off enough to write coherently and without using (too much) profanity after I learned that ScienceBlogs added a corporate PR “blog” about nutrition written by PepsiCo. I think I’ve learned all I care to know about corporate “food” giants’ definition of what is “nutrition” by being confronted daily by a flock of hugely protruding bellies and jiggling posteriors everywhere I go (yes, even here in Germany).
LOL! B-a-a-a-d journalist, Ginnie. No treats for you today! Yea verily, we might even say “go to your crate and take your lawyer with you!”
Nevertheless, as GrrlScientist and many others report, the schism over Seed Media Group’s move to install a crassly commercial fake blog mounted by a crassly exploitive megamanufacturer of fake food is real, and the result is more than sad for the blogosphere. It may rise to the level of tragic: it represents the destruction of one of the most successful blog networks the Internet has seen, one that has worked to clear the cobwebs of error and fuzzy thinking out of the corners of our collective mind.
True: if many of us are to make a living as Internet writers, particularly on our own sites, some mechanism has must be invented to make blogging profitable. As I’ve observed before, AdSense, which runs a particularly annoying ad on this site displaying cartoon protruding bellies and jiggling posteriors, occasionally returns something in the six figures: if the figures represent fractional pennies. But it takes a month of the coldest days in Hell for FaM to reach that Olympian height. Most of the time it earns between two cents and three bucks a day.
But still. One wonders. To make a living, do we have to sell our souls?
Memo to self: figure out how to get rid of the animated fat lady diet ad.
Maybe we’re on the wrong track, most of us, when we think of blogging as a potentially profit-making enterprise. Maybe writing these things, which really are on the order of diaries or writer’s journals, should be regarded as a labor of love. Any money to be made off them should be generated from more highly developed spinoffs, in the form of print and electronic books. Or, if we’re Uncle Jay or Ramit, from mugs, T-shirts, and online courses.
Ahem. Would any of you like to buy a Funny about Money mug? How’s about a nice T-shirt?
FaM Logo Here! For just $2 extra, get your mug personalized with YOUR NAME in cheery acrylic craft paint!! (Not responsible for Pepsi Cola logos.)