12.30.2006

It's done; which is our response to be?

Hic semper tyrannus

or

Kyrie eleison


?

12.29.2006

Super Spam Name of the Day

message from: "Toil J. Barbarian"

I mean, how can you not read that email?

Ten Years

We have been married for ten years--our anniversary was yesterday. How is that possible? So very thankful to have been given this time.

12.14.2006

In Which Piers Shuts Off the Computer for a While

Tomorrow, Piers and family leave for the Grand Christmas Tour. The semester is over, so grade complaints can now start. What a good time to leave town!

12.12.2006

examblogging

Here I am, standing in front of my Brit Lit Survey students while they take their exam. The best part about giving these is watching the body language. Some are methodical test-takers--they plan out their answers, write slowly, seem calm. Others expostulate with themselves under their breath, roll their eyes, glance up a lot. Some write with their noses practically on the desk, while others almost recline (inasmuch as they can, in these wretched 'desks' we make college students sit in). Lots of cracking of knuckles, chewing of gum, stretching of writing hands. The women run their fingers through their hair or play with their ponytails. Some folks write the whole exam with their jacket on.

This is a bittersweet moment--some students I'm perfectly fine to see go, but there are others who are a joy to teach, and I probably won't see them again. There are also those who would have benefited from my help if they'd been willing to take it. Some I tried hard to help, but they proved impervious to my efforts, and I wonder what else I could have done. A few I'll see again, which is a new pleasure for me in this job: to follow students through an academic career, teaching them multiple times and each time with new (usually more sophisticated) material.

Whoa. Someone just asked herself a question, thought of the answer, nodded in the affirmative, then authoritatively wrote it down.

12.11.2006

After waking up at 3 am today

I am prepared to make the following observation: You remember when you were a child, and woke up sick in the middle of the night, and your parents were so efficient, comforting, in control of the situation?

lies! all lies!

They were actually completely unaware of what day of the week it was, or even of the name of their spouse. They probably had a splitting headache and felt like they had Honeybaked Hams for hands.

12.06.2006

Thank goodness for the interwebs

Ah, mockery. Food for the weary soul.

You gotta read the commentary on the cover for Gaddis' The Recognitions. Link.

In Which Piers Wonders What This Guy is Thinking

This morning, I returned the paper to that guy who'd obviously either copied or bought a paper (the one in APA style with sources we don't have in our library). Wanting to see what he'd say, I call him out in the hall . . .

Okay, now, I've got a question--this doesn't seem like your work. It's not, is it?

Not exactly.

Because this is your first term, I'm going to give you a break here. If you turn in something by Friday that is your own work, I'll not give you the zero that you're going to get.

Well, this zero is worth five percent, right?

Right. But let me explain that you really need to not do this--I'm giving you a chance to make it right, but if you do it again, your professor will nail your butt to the wall.


(Student shows signs of agitation; lip quivering) now wait a minute--I didn't plagiarize; they wrote it for me.

(klaxons going off in Piers' head) But see, that's worse! You just can't go around buying papers! I'm trying to help you out here, but it's your choice. Alright?

(sullenly) alright.

Geez. I don't want to deal with this sh!te. I just want these yahoos (this guy, and two others in my other class) to go away. On the bright side, at least I can say that I've been passed a 'bought paper.'

Best News Story of the Day

Link. I'm sure Dave Barry, and the Fark, is all over this one.

Update: I was right.

12.05.2006

Oh, hooray.

New York City has 'banned' Trans Fats. Reminds me of that Simpsons episode (#818, "Homer vs. the Eighteenth Amendment") where Marge decides that the town needs to ban alcohol: Homer becomes a "Beer Baron," making the liquor in the basement of his house and transferring it secretly to Moe's Tavern.

I can see it now: Cars coming into Manhattan stopped and checked for Krispy Kremes! Clandestine "blubber-easies" where folks can get their secret fix of margarine! Stockpiled Oreos! A run on saltine crackers! KFC biscuits? None for you, Mr. Heart-Disease-Ticking- Timebomb! McDonald's will probably start greasing the palms of the Trans-Fat Inspectors--or better yet, they can just arrange for the UN (who, after all, has its headquarters right in town) to arrange for inspection of "suspected trans-fat sites," thereby assuring that there'll be no enforcement at all!

Next thing you know, they'll be coming for the sody-pop and the beer. Causes flabby thighs, beer goggles, and bad breath, you know.

talk about your good choices

Eleven years ago today (!) I asked her to marry me.

Is it possible the time can pass that quickly? I still remember the first time I laid eyes on her.

12.04.2006

It's a Monday

W woke up cranky, because Sidney and Simon and Piers nearly crowded her out of the bed last night.

The Little Boy woke up really cranky, because he doesn't feel well. He had a full-fledged fit when Piers tried to change him out of his PJ's this morning. Then he wanted to sit in my lap and have me hold him--even though I had to get to work.

Piers has a splitting headache and some numbskulls for students. The latest paper for one student features 6 resources we don't have in our library, and is documented extensively & perfectly in APA style.

Today's car care report: one oil change, one new battery, and four new tires.

And it's cold.

12.01.2006

Life with a Toddler, Vol. 20

Tonight, we sent The Little Boy to bed after his dinner, and we ate late. We were just sitting, talking over the novelty of a quiet dinner, when I hear a sound from the hallway indicating that The Little Boy has opened his bedroom door yet again (for the third time or so). I go back to investigate, flicking on the hall light as I walk toward his room.

What should greet me but a stark naked Little Boy, standing in his doorway with a little wet spot on the carpet. Trying not to laugh out loud, I call for W. She walks back and bursts into laughter.

What are you doing, buddy?

I took dipow off. I teetee on fwoor.

You took your diaper off and you tee-teed on the floor?

Yessrr

Where is tee-tee supposed to go?

Potty

Do you want to go tee-tee in the potty?

Yessrr

So off we go, while W gathers up the discarded diaper and the shed pajamas. We clothe him, tuck him back in bed, and tell him to stay put. Then we return to finish our dinner.