Marc
I'm exhausted. It's only Monday. That's weird. I can barely keep my eyes open and it's only just gone 7:49pm. I had a student today tell me that she wasn't going to do her homework. I usually don't assign homework, but we were running late today and as such I asked the class to complete four simple tasks for tomorrow's class. She told me that, if she did do her homework, it would probably be ripped off the internet. I just stood there dumbfounded, wondering why a student would be admitting (pre-meditating, if you will) directly in front of her teacher her intentions to plagiarize a silly, one-page handout worth only 20 points. I made her stay after class. The following conversation ensued:
Me: So, ___, why would you tell me you weren't planning on doing your homework?
___: Because ...
Me: Because why?
___: I don't know. Just because.
Me: ...
Pointless.
My room is a mess. I've been trying to keep it super clean and organized, and for the most part I've succeeded, but lately ... oi. It's gotten completely out of hand. The garbage can has overflowed with all the papers I find myself throwing away on a daily basis. I should really look into recycling. I've got piles of books and magazines stashed all over the place. I always get a great idea for an activity in class, though the great idea usually comes at around 10:30pm just as my eyes are nearly swelled shut with sleepiness. I can usually make out the lines on the computer screen, but I can never quite distinguish the actual words that I end up typing for all these handouts and assignment sheets I write. My cooperating teacher - who is incredibly nice and patient and insane about grammar - always finds some grammatical or spelling mistake. I'm not much of a personal proofreader.
I used to proofread for money back in high school, so I guess that might have something to do with it. A proofreading prostitute, if you will. Maybe I don't proofread myself all that well because I know that I'm not going to pay myself to do it. I mean, seriously, speaking of bleary-eyed jobs, try being a proofreader at a weekly newspaper in a small town. I can't tell you how many times I read articles about prostate cancer prevention or safety tips for seniors. Mind-numbingly boring stuff.
I've tried to show videos in my classes that I think would be fun to watch, but it's not quite turned out like I would have liked it to. Monty Python and the Holy Grail, while funny to me, is not necessarily funny to high school sophomores. I laughed hard in the back of the room, especially during the part where they tried to figure out what, besides witches burns. "MORE WITCHES!" someone yelled. Pure comedy gold. The looks on the kids' faces was - what's the word - somewhere between less-amused and categorically unresponsive. That about fits the bill.
Every day I wake up at 6:15am (yeah right. Try 6:27am, more likely.) and stumble into the shower. My hair is getting rather long again. It's shaggy. It feels heavy on my head sometimes, as if something up there is weighing me down. But I like it. Someone's been crafting it for a while now, and I couldn't see the light at the end of the tunnel. But now, as the end of the tunnel gets closer, I see the light and I want to run right into it. I can see myself running through a flourishing spring meadow in mid-April, my hair tossing about in the breeze. Daffodil pedals are floating all around me, and some even get caught in my shaggy locks. It makes me laugh. Passersby whisper to each other about how shiny and vibrant my hair is, and they admire me and are jealous of me. But I don't think I'm better than they are...
I just have a better head of hair.
I'm exhausted. It's only Monday. That's weird. I can barely keep my eyes open and it's only just gone 7:49pm. I had a student today tell me that she wasn't going to do her homework. I usually don't assign homework, but we were running late today and as such I asked the class to complete four simple tasks for tomorrow's class. She told me that, if she did do her homework, it would probably be ripped off the internet. I just stood there dumbfounded, wondering why a student would be admitting (pre-meditating, if you will) directly in front of her teacher her intentions to plagiarize a silly, one-page handout worth only 20 points. I made her stay after class. The following conversation ensued:
Me: So, ___, why would you tell me you weren't planning on doing your homework?
___: Because ...
Me: Because why?
___: I don't know. Just because.
Me: ...
Pointless.
My room is a mess. I've been trying to keep it super clean and organized, and for the most part I've succeeded, but lately ... oi. It's gotten completely out of hand. The garbage can has overflowed with all the papers I find myself throwing away on a daily basis. I should really look into recycling. I've got piles of books and magazines stashed all over the place. I always get a great idea for an activity in class, though the great idea usually comes at around 10:30pm just as my eyes are nearly swelled shut with sleepiness. I can usually make out the lines on the computer screen, but I can never quite distinguish the actual words that I end up typing for all these handouts and assignment sheets I write. My cooperating teacher - who is incredibly nice and patient and insane about grammar - always finds some grammatical or spelling mistake. I'm not much of a personal proofreader.
I used to proofread for money back in high school, so I guess that might have something to do with it. A proofreading prostitute, if you will. Maybe I don't proofread myself all that well because I know that I'm not going to pay myself to do it. I mean, seriously, speaking of bleary-eyed jobs, try being a proofreader at a weekly newspaper in a small town. I can't tell you how many times I read articles about prostate cancer prevention or safety tips for seniors. Mind-numbingly boring stuff.
I've tried to show videos in my classes that I think would be fun to watch, but it's not quite turned out like I would have liked it to. Monty Python and the Holy Grail, while funny to me, is not necessarily funny to high school sophomores. I laughed hard in the back of the room, especially during the part where they tried to figure out what, besides witches burns. "MORE WITCHES!" someone yelled. Pure comedy gold. The looks on the kids' faces was - what's the word - somewhere between less-amused and categorically unresponsive. That about fits the bill.
Every day I wake up at 6:15am (yeah right. Try 6:27am, more likely.) and stumble into the shower. My hair is getting rather long again. It's shaggy. It feels heavy on my head sometimes, as if something up there is weighing me down. But I like it. Someone's been crafting it for a while now, and I couldn't see the light at the end of the tunnel. But now, as the end of the tunnel gets closer, I see the light and I want to run right into it. I can see myself running through a flourishing spring meadow in mid-April, my hair tossing about in the breeze. Daffodil pedals are floating all around me, and some even get caught in my shaggy locks. It makes me laugh. Passersby whisper to each other about how shiny and vibrant my hair is, and they admire me and are jealous of me. But I don't think I'm better than they are...
I just have a better head of hair.
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home