Posts (page 2)
- Drinking a glass of water gives me heartburn. Should that even be possible? I have completely given up on pretty much anything with tomato in it. Or onion. And now apparently water.
- My hair stylist said, "Do you want to cover up this gray?" WHAT?! WHAT GRAY?! OHMYGOD SHUT THE HELL UP! But it's true. When my hair is down there is one very defined gray hair that shines right around my face. Great.
- My kid schools me. We're sitting at the table the other night, going back and forth, and I finally say, "Madelyn, I think your attitude is unnecessary." And without skipping a beat, she says, "Well, mom, I think your face is unnecessary." My response, after stuttering for roughly 5 seconds, "Yeah, well, you go to your room because I said so!"
- My students and I were talking about music in class, and when I told them a few of the bands I like, one of the guys said, "My parents listen to that." And another said, "Yeah, mine, too. A lot of it's lame." YOU ALL FAIL!
- I bought the ugliest, whitest, most supportive bra I've ever bought in my life a few days ago. From Walmart. On sale. Of my own free will. Holy shit.
Sometime during last year's school year, I showed up to Madelyn's school in a pair of ratty sweatpants and a t-shirt to pick her up. I'd been thoroughly cleaning the apartment all day, doing baseboards and toilet bowls, hand-washing linoleum, washing down the walls, and time got away from me. So I had to rush to school to pick her up before they started charging me 5 bucks a minute. I walked in, they called Madelyn for me, and I watched as she came bouncing down the hallway. The closer she got, the slower she got, until she was roughly 50 feet away from me and stopped dead in her tracks. She quickly grabbed her book bag and darted for the door. When I stepped closer to her, she hissed, "WHAT.ARE.YOU.WEARING."
My initial reaction was, "Really, kid? You're 6. Does it matter?"
Apparently so. All the way home that day, she let me know just how mortified she was.
Since that day, I have made a conscious effort to never embarrass her like that again. No one wants to be the kid with the tacky mom, even if that mom WAS CLEANING YOUR CRAP OFF THE UNDERSIDE OF THE TOILET SEAT.
Then yesterday, I'm in the grocery store, and I see this mom with her two kids. The oldest child is behaving wonderfully, while the youngest child is acting like a fucking banshee. Mom told him he couldn't have the Halloween-sized bag of snickers, and he decided to have a total melt down, going so far as to run down the aisle, knocking things off the shelf to the floor, glass jars included. This mom was chasing him...CHASING HIM...through the store laughing hysterically, in that way that all moms know is a coping mechanism so as to not kill your kids in public in front of witnesses.
Some of us in the grocery store stopped to watch. There were a few younger people, those who obviously have no children, who were in pure shock and muttering under their breaths, "Beat the shit out of that kid!" And then there were the parents, the post traumatic stress victims, watching this mom and wanting to help, but literally not being able to budge from the spot we were standing in. We were all reliving some sort of traumatic event that involved us acting like total fucking fools in a public place because our precious offspring was acting a fool.
And I suddenly flashed back to Madelyn accusingly hissing "WHAT.ARE.YOU.WEARING."
My whole body relaxed, and I smiled. I turned to walk to the checkout, and to no one in particular I said, "Pay back's a bitch."
One of the first assignments I had my students do this semester was a short biography of themselves. I simply asked them to tell me something interesting about themselves. To be fair, I also gave them a short bio on me--something they could mock if need be.
That's right. I South Parked myself for the bio pic. They were allowed to do the same thing using either South Park, the Simpsons, Mad Men, or Super Hero sites I gave them. The point of the assignment was to see how creative they could get, while also showing me their writing and letting me get to know a little about them.
I expected to be entertained.
What I got was so much more than that.
There is an 18-year-old boy in my second class. In his bio, he told me about a mustang he'd recently had to sell. I want to share the story on my blog, especially for my neighbors on here who teach. He's one of those students you know you will remember for a very long time.
At the age of 13, after saving years of Christmas, Birthday, and allowance money, he bough his first car. Paid cash for it. A 66 mustang coup that needed to be completely refurbed. He bought it at 13 because he knew it would take him a couple of years to rebuild it. And so for the next three years, he worked his ass off, making money to put into the car, and using any extra time he had to work on it. By the time he was 16, the engine was rebuilt, the seats were reupholstered, and the car was painted cherry red. It was his pride and joy.
At 17, he applied to Clemson University and got in on a partial scholarship. It covered some of his tuition, room and board, and textbooks, but it didn't cover everything. And so to afford the rest of his tuition, and to keep from going into debt at 18, and to keep his parents from having to go in to debt, this 18-year-old sold his '66 mustang coup.
He sold "his baby," as he puts it, because his education is that important to him. He sold "his baby" in order to make the financial burden on his parents a little less. He sold "his baby" and now rides public transportation here in Clemson because that small inconvenience is worth becoming the biochemical engineer he wants to be.
Dude.
How many 18-year-olds do you know like that?! I can tell you how many I know. 1. That's it. Just 1.
Today when I got to campus, I pulled into a parking space, and noticed as an H3 pulled in to the spot next to me. This kid...and when I say kid, I mean a child who looks like he doesn't shave yet...climbs out of it with his designer sunglasses and his obnoxious popped collar. And, Vox, believe me when I tell you it took everything in me not to back out of my space and ram into the back of that fucking car with everything I had.
I've been meaning to put this up for a while now. Better late than never.
...and, as you can see, everyone was thoroughly excited.
I get that not many people outside of the club scene in major cities understand what Adam Goldstein did for the music industry, and so his death a few days ago is nothing more than a junkie overdose to them. But really, DJ AM was to DJing what Elvis was to Rock and Roll. Am I exaggerating? Depends on who you ask.
The point is, the man could mix a tune. If you've never heard him do his thing, and you consider yourself a music person, you should take a listen.
So, I'm a week and a half into teaching 38 Freshman the joy of composition writing. And for the most part, it has gone very well. They have responded to me beautifully, and for the most part we are grooving right along. Of course, the first few days were rough for everyone involved. To be exact, I received 184 emails in less than 36 hours with questions ranging from, "What do we call you in class, again?" to "I DON'T KNOW HOW TO DO THIS MYCOMPLAB THING!!"
But things are better now.
I'm not a person who believes lecturing is the way to go. I truly believe that is the fastest way to lose a student. They
don't want us to talk at them. They want us to interact with them. As part of that interaction, my students and I decided to make Fridays our film day. They have the opportunity to bring in film clips, songs, etc. that pertain to what we're doing in class, and then, if I approve, we get to spend our Fridays going through what they've brought in and talking about the rhetoric found within the clips.
I started them off yesterday with three clips. The first was the coffin scene from Kill Bill 2. We discussed Logical Fallacy. (Whoa...when I first typed that, I used a "ph" instead of a "f." Freud would have a field day!) The second was the continuos war ridden beach scene from Atonement. And the third was the crumbling house/make up a goodbye scene from Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.
Now, for those who know me, or for those who have been reading me for the last three years, you know how much Eternal Sunshine means to me. So I had a lesson in self control when my students fiercely proclaimed, "That was stupid!" or "I don't get that at all!" or "Jim Carrey wasn't even funny in that!"
Whaaaa???
Where did my perfect little students go? How could they not get it? WHAT IS WRONG WITH THEM?!?!
I ended up asking one of the most adamant students in class what his favorite movie is? "Armageddon."
Ah.
So, film choice aside, I really do love my 38. They are so excited to be in college. So excited to be little grown ups who get to make their own decisions. So excited to be able to EAT AND DRINK IN CLASS AND OH MY GOD I CAN SAY SHIT OUT LOUD AND NO ONE SENDS ME TO THE PRINCIPLE'S OFFICE!!!
There's a reason I chose years and years of graduate school. It's to get the chance to teach people. And my 38 are proving my career choice is spot on.
