Our Robots' Goal: Bound for the Rosebowl?

My Robot's Goal: Play Ball! 
This is the tutorial video of what our robots will be able to do in the end. How cool is this? Peep peep!

If I Find I'm the Norm, Do I Need to Reform?

So I got a copy of my high school transcript. The good news is, according to Eunice Ahn, in the College Placement Office, I might be able to bypass junior college and head straight for university. The bad news: I can't get into the college I got into in 1980.

I am going to dig in and try harder.

Turns out, French was my toughest subject (if you judge by the grades I got); and I won't even tell you what I got in Advanced Algebra the 2nd semester of my senior year: I only told my small Robotics group that dirty little secret. Let's just say I'm lucky I graduated.

I also see that my PSAT scores look pretty average. (I'm going to chalk that up to a new scoring system and pretend that numbers like that, in 1979, really meant I was a National Merit Scholar. Only Eunice Ahn and I will know for sure, right? Just don't ask me to sign the Honor Code.)

So how do my grades (then) match up to the typical, or average grades today? I have to tell you: I can already feel myself wanting to work a little harder, dig in a bit.


I need to go see College Counseling and really look at my options. Maybe I can pull my SATs up a bit. I think my husband might know Stanley Kaplan.

I'm supposed to go to Harvard, blast it! Meanwhile, thank God for UCLA Extension.

Some kids are screeching outside my window: some dumb Halloween party. Don't they know I've got homework to do? Darned kids. When will they grow up? (Wait. I think those are my kids. Never mind.)

Maybe I should go watch a rerun of Gilligan's Island.

Gingerly,

Jaye

PS: My new PSAT scores come in December, so don't give up on me, Baby. (You neither, David Soul.)

Today, We're Gettin' in the Groove: Attaching the Motor and Makin' It Move!

Today we are continuing to work on our robot, yet unnamed. So, my team explained to me that each group of students (there are 3 groups in this class, each 3-4 girls) is programming the “group robot” to play soccer, which means there will be a specific set of programming commands so it can play by the rules.

We’re wiring up the DC Motor Controller now, and then installing the tiny “touch sensor.” You can program it to do whatever if the touch sensor is, well, touched. So, like the roomba, whose touch sensor says, “Back it up, Joan, and find another section of carpet,” we can tell it to do something. (If touch sensor = bump, then head-butt soccer ball, AND if touch sensor = ouch then head-butt opponent.)

My husband is going to want to know where Mr. Fitz gets his hair cut. If an engineer can look cool, by God, then so can a lawyer! I love LA: anything is possible!

So, turns out that this whole “kit” we are using is developed by none other than Lego. Apparently, Lego has a whole robotics arm (no pun intended) that is really the lifeblood of the company. Schools are the main consumers, and learning this stuff is pretty mainstream.

It’s nice to see girls “playing with Legos” for a change. And smart girls at that. We stopped for a spell to locate Part H, and we got to chat about college applications. I asked if being a senior means less pressure on the homework front so you have time to write the 15 entrance essays. NO was the answer.

Class, homework, sports, community service, and hopefully some sleep. That’s on this week’s menu for these girls. (But they’re pretty upbeat about it. The theory of keeping a kid busy seems to work in this model.)

I told them it’s a real shame they have so much to do because I had time to watch every TV program that aired between 1975 and 1981! I worked my way from "My Favorite Martian," through "Gilligan’s Island," and even gulped down every episode of "Dynasty," and look how I ended up! (A middle-aged housewife who can’t re-program her Roomba!)

In today’s world, these girls could program their TV to watch them! If Gilligan and the Skipper watched these girls, maybe they’d get off that darned island! (Come to think of it, Mr. Fitz looks a bit like the Professor....)

Gotta roomba. C-U-tomorrow.

My Latest Class Is Simply Hypnotic: I’m Learning to Build Something Robotic!

OK, it doesn’t get cooler than this: Robotics. I don’t even know where to begin. I’m taking a section of the semester, where we get to take what we’ve (they’ve) learned about programming in RobotC language, and we get to build an actual robot that we can program to do whatever; our group is going to program our robot to play some sport. Pole vault would be funny, no?

I jokingly asked the teacher, Mr. Fitz, if this is similar to the Roomba (the automatic vacuum cleaner that, on auto pilot, roams around the house while you do other things), and, yes, the Roomba is similarly programmed.

Now we’re talking. I’ll see if I can hijack the group and program our robot to chop vegetables (something helpful while I’m off vacuuming!).

It’s an elective course, comprised of mostly seniors. There’s absolutely no prerequisite for this class: all they know today they learned at the start of the semester. The programming language was surreal. Mr. Fitz put a bunch of gibberish on the whiteboard (the new blackboard) and the girls gleefully shouted, “Oh, that’s the one that makes it turn a revolution if SensorSource is less than zero!”

You say you want a revolution? Holy moly.

We started to build the robot, which involved a box of complicated parts and doodads. We’re beta-testing this program for Carnegie Mellon, so it’s the cutting edge, and this Marlborough class is literally using the technology as it’s coming out of Pittsburgh.

Stay tuned.

(PS. Bad Boy, pictured here, is one of the robots they built earlier this semester. I dated someone who looked a lot like this.)

Just For Kicks: A Report on the Front Bricks!

I got to speak to the Parents' Association tonight. Would you be surprised if I told you I was late and my hastily-prepared speech was crumpled? (Don't answer that; I don't want to hear it.)

So, I wore the stuff I had found at the Lost and ~. (Do you guys remember the ~ sign? It meant "aforementioned," I think. It was the punctuation version of "what she said." I had lunch with Marcie Maloney Newby today and several of us ordered the same thing. When the waiter came to me, I should have given him the tilde sign! But I digress.) I wore my big purple team shorts over white leggings, an over-sized shirt, a ratty sweater around my waist, and converse-cum-mules. I wonder if they knew I was trying to look like a M Girl. Sure was comfy!

I told them about the blog; it was short and sweet, all very nice. As I walked back across the front lawn--wait a minute, I mean the front bricks, er, OK. I forgot to tell you. 

There's no front lawn (was there a ~ lawn back then or am I imagining it?), and there are no ~ bricks; there's only the ~ cement. Yup. Bricks gone. As well, do you recall us sitting in little pods, on the bricks, in the direct sunlight? Well, now they have these wonderful umbrellas, tables and chairs. Kinda like a little cafe, but with SPF. (I'm sure they all still sit on the ground in the sun.)

It looked very charming. I think I'll go there for lunch one day. And until the cafeteria opens, they have catering by the Green Truck. I'm going vegan!

Off to bed; it's past this student's ~time!

Thank God I'm Prehensile, with My No. 2 Pencil!

Well, it was funny: funny-odd and funny-humorous. And it was fun, sort of. I think I did OK, but don't hold me to it. I told my husband that if I got more than a few wrong on my Critical Reading or Writing Skills, I'll eat my hat. He asked what sort of hat I wanted.

I need a small, edible hat, waiting in the wings, just in case. (After all, I did miss over 1/6 of the questions on the practice test.)

And I couldn't finish 3 of 38 on the Math: two because I ran out of time (gulp), and one because, despite my expansive preparation (yesterday), it honestly didn't ring a bell. At all. 4 of the 5 multiple choice answers had squiggly lines, and one was straight. Now you tell me, which one was right? (No, the question is NOT relevant!)

Here are the things that "took me back":

1. We were all sitting in rows, maybe 120 of us, in school desks.
2. Because hair styles are back to what they were when I was in 10th grade (before the perm), I actually did a double take a couple times and thought I saw friends I knew. That was spooky.
3. Some girls were late because they were stuck in traffic.
4. I liked all the girl power in the room; it felt familiar, normal. There was lots of kibitzing during the break, with laughing, hugging, some coughing, sneezing. (They sell Marlborough-branded Purell at the book store, by the way, to cleanse away the dross of the kibitz.)
5. There's purple everywhere, not to mention Nina Ristani's name on every sports banner from 1978 to 1992 (I'm exaggerating). I drove her to school (late, stuck in traffic) for years. I had no idea the significance of she who rode in my car!

Now, here's what "took me aback":

1. We were taking the test in the gym. There was no gym back then. (I wonder how Nina pulled it off!)
2.  I have never had the sensation of filling out someone else's last name (ROGOVIN) in the bubbles. That darned Q, near the R, and the O. Unnerving.
3. My back honestly hurt. Like in an old lady way. Those "stretch breaks" were as welcome to those young 'uns as stretch marks were to me after 2 kids. I mean, c'mon, how can you people even walk after 3 hours in a steel chair?
4. One of the girls was wearing the same pair of boxers under her skirt (same length, too) that I just bought my husband for Father's Day.
5. I'm an "old" sophomore (meaning I have a summer birthday, not meaning I am 46), and I was born in 1993.

Meanwhile, test results come back in early December. Keep those votes coming! More later....

If You Really Want Some Mental Strain, Book a Seat on the Coordinate Plane!

The slope of a line is equal to rise over run. Based on how I felt when I rose this AM, after a very late night studying math, and seeing that I am not going to go on a run today because of my study schedule, I am calculating a slope of (0, 1) (not running, barely rising), and I’m being generous. Though I will admit that yesterday, none of what I just wrote would have made sense, much less been funny, because I truly didn’t recognize it; but now I do, thanks to my PSAT tutor, Alexis White (’97). She and another former Mustang run a company called the A List, and they tutor all ages (from K to 46, it seems) in all subjects.

And now, thanks to some real-time cramming, I’m making math jokes! I’ve got to get to the root of the problem: divide and conquer. Otherwise, it just won’t add up; it will be odd. Do ya get my angle?

For more laughs, call 1-800-[(15x)(19i)2]-[sin(xy)/2.362x].

Ha, ha, that last one was a real scream!

Lie Is to Equivocation as Ringing Is to Tintinnabulation

(Words of the day: equivocation and tintinnabulation)

It was dark when I drove to school. I swear. (No, Terrell, that’s not because I forgot to take my eye shades off.) I switched my headlights on, just to fit in on the freeway. The theme of the day is trying to fit in. I wondered if I had studied enough for my quiz.
 

If I were to arrive late, I planned to resuscitate some of my old Mrs. Muir excuses. How about this one: “We lost power this weekend. The garage door opener is electric. When the power is out, I can’t get my car out of my garage. I am going to be late to school today.” All factual statements, but  they omit the important fact that we got power back on Sunday, and that I overslept on Monday. They illustrate how I learned a new English verb: equivocation, which I understood meant to be ambiguous not to lie. But here’s what Webster’s has to say about it:

equivocate     verb: prevaricate, be evasive, be noncommittal, be vague, be ambiguous, dodge the question, beat around the bush, hedge; vacillate, shilly-shally, waver; temporize, hesitate, stall, hem and haw; informal pussyfoot around, sit on the fence; rare tergiversate. See note at lie.

Alas, I see the final note; I see the light. And, in the budding daylight, I arrived at school, early; that’s good.

I dropped off my vintage 1980, yellowing folder of mimeographed devoirs (homework) and papiers to Mme. Jenks this AM. It was fun to look at all my old work (I can’t believe I have saved it this long!). Remember the smell of the mimeograph machine? Back in the days when no one worried about toxic substances ("I didn’t inhale!”).

The bell “rang,” or, rather it tintinnabulated (Marcie, don’t bother looking that one up: it’s not there).

Now I’m in class. Ugh, there’s a live caterpillar under my desk. I just stood up on my chair and screamed bloody murder. (Just wanted to make sure you were still reading.) I’m kidding. I asked the class, in a tintinnabulating voice if anyone is NOT afraid of bugs. One brave student picked it up and noted, “It’s just a caterpillar; it’ll be a butterfly in 30 days.” If it were up to me, I’d wait 30 days to touch that thing!

Be right back. Here comes the French quiz. 

Dang, dang dang. I forgot the word for elbow. I think I guessed the English equivalent of “the horse.” Otherwise, I think I did well, and I am glad I studied.

Shoot. I saw Mme. Jenks after class and learned that I got another thing wrong—a careless mistake. So, I guess I got 36/38. I’m bummed. It just goes to show you: even a prepared adult with 20 years of French can get things wrong on a French II test. It’s not easy! Je me suis fait mal a la fier. (I hurt my pride.)

Off to my PSAT tutor....

Bring a Graphing Calculator? What a Mood Deflator.

The Co-Director of College Counseling, Mr. Heeter, emailed me today re. the PSAT next Wednesday:

Please come to the College Counseling Office by 8:30am. We will escort you to the gym.  Please bring two No. 2 pencils (not mechanical pencils) and a calculator (graphing calculator--assuming you know how to use one of them--I sure don't, or any calculator you have available to you) You will be finished at about 11:45am.

Do you know what a graphing calculator is? I told Mr. Heeter that I should bring a screwdriver to tighten any additional loose screws in my head.

My tutoring session is Monday. I have been assured that I will fail the Math.

Here's what I have learned so far:

About PSAT/NMSQT

The Preliminary SAT/National Merit Scholarship Qualifying Test (PSAT/NMSQT) is a program cosponsored by the College Board and National Merit Scholarship Corporation (NMSC). It's a standardized test that provides firsthand practice for the SAT. It also gives you a chance to enter NMSC scholarship programs and gain access to college and career planning tools.

The PSAT/NMSQT measures:

• Critical reading skills
• Math problem-solving skills
• Writing skills

You have developed these skills over many years, both in and out of school. This test doesn't require you to recall specific facts from your classes.

The most common reasons for taking the PSAT/NMSQT are to:

• Receive feedback on your strengths and weaknesses on skills necessary for college study. You can then focus your preparation on those areas that could most benefit from additional study or practice.
• See how your performance on an admissions test might compare with that of others applying to college.
• Enter the competition for scholarships from NMSC (grade 11).
• Help prepare for the SAT. You can become familiar with the kinds of questions and the exact directions you will see on the SAT.

Hike Up Your Skirt: I Think I Hit Pay Dirt!

OK, I casually told Mme. Jenks that I thought I had saved all my French quizzes. She raised un sourcil, as if to say, "Vraiment?" I gave her some "bien sur" bravado, and it occurred to me tonight that I had an appointment in the Rogo-archives to play out my petite farce!

So, down to the bowels of the "California Basement"(is that what you sunny folks call it?) I went. Taking my life into my own hands, sifting through folderol in the dark...

I FOUND IT! A fat, brown folder with a now-flaccid elastic pretending to hold it closed, marked "Marlborough." Inside, I found (among other things, never to place a colon after a verb)

1. My diploma
2. An issue of the Ultra Violet from 1980
3. Commencement exercises invitation, Class of 1981
   
4. The schedule for 1980-1981 (more on that when I catch my breath)
5. My Miss Carnes essays, with her comments (and grades)
   
6. My AP French homework, all of it
7. Other papers, all hand-written, of course
8. My entire calendar from 1978 to 1981, including journal entries on all the boys I liked

Oh, la la! First, may I say that this was high-level stuff. No wonder we did so well in college. These essays were deep, well-crafted, and oftentimes IN FRENCH! I must say, I was impressed that we were doing this stuff at age 15 to 18.

My favorite essay, the one I failed to title, was a really wordy, aspiring apologetic on the difference between two Shelley poems. Miss Carnes writes and the end of my diatribe, in red,

Angel, you are so vague! Just what is it that Shelley wants, and why? Have you ever heard of having a title for what you write? C+

On my honor, this is all my own work.

Take Me off the Bench: I'm going Back to French!

What a day! I only took one class, but with the rest of life-with-kids, I can’t imagine doing more. I am in the C Section of Mme. Jenks’ French II class. I will explain the daily schedule at a future date, but just know that if I am following a C class,

• it will meet at different times every day,
• and not necessarily every day,
• and will sometimes vary week to week.

Did you get that? (If you did, please explain it to me.)

So, today, C Period started at 10:56. Tomorrow, it starts at 1:12; no class Friday, and Monday (quiz day) it starts at 7:57 (“Um, hello, may I please speak to AM?”)

OK, so 10:56. The “bells” between classes, by the way, are super civilized. Sort of like a symphonic version of what the Queen would do if she rang for tea. Very pleasing.

I ran by my pal Sloane's ('15) locker again--she’s got some cool stuff up there. I keep meaning to leave her a note. She’s the daughter of my classmate/pal, and she has just started 7th grade. Shoot, I’m always rushing. Tomorrow.

Mrs. Jenks beckons me in with a cheery “Bonjour!” (I think teaching French must have some magical preservation powers since she is truly the same person she was 30 years ago. How is that possible?)

We all file in and one of the girls asks, “Are you the Alum who is coming back to take classes?” I admit it, and she says she read about me in the Ultra Violet (remember the UV?). They have just published an article about me in the school newspaper. I have just seen it, and I will only say that they published a foreshortened photograph of my arm, with me in the background. Holy cow!

So we begin with Mme. Jenks introducing the new kid (me), all in French. I am pleased that my classmates and I understand her. Although the word in French for “former” (student) is “ancienne.” Alors.

She hands back our tests from Chapitre 6. I’m not on the receiving end since I’m the new kid but I’m full of angst as I hear various academic equivalents of Homer Simpson’s “Doh!” when they see what score they got, what they missed, and when they try to pepper Mme. Jenks with questions about how this test will affect their overall grade.

Mme. Jenks warns that the spelling mistakes were several, and that the students need to take more heed. (Just like in Global Studies; just like in life. Heck, just like in 1st and 3rd grade. Do we ever learn to spel?)

Oh, the humanity!

Sangfroid-ly, Mme. Jenks assuages concerns, and we move on to Chapitre 7: that for which I am here. (“This is the sort of French up with which I will not put!)

Whoa, she has the same handwriting. Wow, it’s like muscle memory. How does she do that? She’s speaking in French. OK, my French is pretty good! I scan the Chapitre. It’s all about health and sickness. There’s a conversation in the textbook about how bad it is to skip meals. I haven’t had breakfast.

Je suis toute raplapa! OK, that word was not invented before 1981. Raplapa. You know that’s like “verklempt.” It showed up on French Saturday Night Live last century, and now everyone’s feeling raplapla.

Madame asks us to turn to page 189. Sorry, that’s cent-quatre-vingt-neuf. Numbers were always so hard for me. That one in particular--it’s like saying “one hundred-”four times twenty”-nine. No problema!

“Qu’est-ce que ne va pas?” doesn’t mean “What doesn’t go?” and J’ai mal au coeur does not mean “I am heartsick.”

Ah, l’humanité!

So, we’re talking sickness, now. Turns out a cold is une rheume. And it finally hits me: Aha! Inspector Clousseau was asking for a “cold” for his monkey, not a room. (“I’d like a rheume for my minkey.”)

She speaks to them almost wholly in French, en Français. She asks, “What do you say to someone who êternue (sneezes)”? I almost answer, “Gesundheit.” Wrong class.

So, “J’ai la grippe porcine” doesn’t mean “I ate like a pig,” it means means “I have Swine Flu.” A few people in the class suffered la grippe porcine, and we conversed about the symptoms, en Français.

Then we go over the passé composé of reflexive verbs. Wow! Je me suis amusée. Elle s’est ennuyée. But, if you have a direct object right afterwards, then you don’t agree the past participle, like je me suis lavé les mains.

Note the difference in Rasé: “Je me suis rasé les jambes” (I shaved my legs) vs. “Je me suis rasée” (I shaved.) OK there’s another example of teaching to all girls. You know if boys had been in this class she couldn’t have raséd that example.

Class is a whirlwind, and I run to the lost-and-found sale to buy some Marlborough swag, and then home before the girls get home. I’ve got homework, so I’d better get to it.

Á bientôt!

I’ve Got a French Quiz in a Week; to Me, It’s All Greek!

So, I’m starting French II next week, which I’ll take up to the first quiz. (Then, I have to stop for a bit to take the PSAT.) But meanwhile, can I just tell you (don’t say I can’t!) that I’m taking French from Mrs. Jenks (Mme. Jenks to those of you who parlent Français), my high school teacher, and also my advisor. Mme. Jenks is like one of those old friends whom you see, after all those years, and it’s like nothing has ever changed; you pick up just where you left off. C’est vrai!

I can’t remember much about the classes I took, but I did take French up to the AP level (which I passed!). I remember not doing well on quizzes. And I forget most of my French. So it’s going to be interesting. I bought the textbook on Amazon. It was $97.00, but I found it used for $2.47. It will probably arrive in 2012, long after I bomb the quiz! C’est la vie!

More ensuite!