Tag Archives: stories

Poor, poor neglected blog…

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I was doing so well with keeping up posting here, and then I just…failed.  This fall hit me hard.  I couldn’t really tell you why.  But my energy levels have been at less than 0.  But I’m back in action now, so let’s hope it holds.

 

Translation: I’m submitting PHD applications, prepping my students for their final research papers, and trying to prepare for the holidays.  So, go go gadget procrastination.

 

I won’t do a recap of the entire semester here, because frankly, none of you really care that much.  I don’t, either.  But let’s say it’s been a little rough.  I can’t tell if it’s my lack of enthusiasm, or if I just have the biggest collection of bums ever, but we are just not making headway.  They are not bad kids, but they are lazy, and ballsy about being lazy.  I am also lazy, and we are just having a big old collaborative laze-fest that is not getting things done.

 

Some of my favorite examples of our issues:

“I didn’t get the essay. So I didn’t do it.” (We had been working on it in class for 20 minutes.)

“Can I get some help? Also how do I do citations.” (the evening *after* we turned the paper in.)

“We have to read the whole thing?” (I gave them class time to read an article they were supposed to read for homework.)

 

So I think it might be a combo.  Grad apps season also means that my brain is not totally on teaching.  So I’m working on being better–if I have more pep, maybe they will too.  I’m also hoping stuffing myself with potatoes and pie for the next three days will put a bit of zip back in me.  Or it will send me into a food coma.  I will take either.

 

And, finally, since I know you were all dying to hear about it…

 

THE TEACHERS LOUNGE SAGA CONTINUES!

 

So, either my colleagues are paranoid, or actual hot magma comes out of the coffee machine.

 

Me: *creeps in, trying not to interrupt jabbering ladies*.

Jabbering ladies: blah blah blah, What Not to Wear, so-and-so’s grandpa…*slow fade to silence*.

Me: *continues to be awkward. Grabs cup for coffee.*

Jabbering ladies: *whisper whisper, mumble something about coffee*.

Single jabbering lady: *comes over* it’s hot. Do you need help? I don’t want you to burn yourself. It’s REALLY hot.

Me: I’m fine.  It’s…I’m…I’ve got it.

Lady: *looks dubious*.

Me: *collects coffee.  Waves like manic idiot. Flees.*

 

And they keep going silent and watching me when I go in there.  It is coffee, not lava. Calm down, people.  It’s getting to the point where I don’t even go in there if I can hear people–the worried staring is just uncomfortable for everybody.

 

So, I hope that amused you, or at least told you my sense of humor has not improved.  I’m going to try going back to around once a week.  If that doesn’t happen…someone poke me.  I either got lazy, or I’m taking a cross-country hike to go throw eggs at the ETS building.

 

…or I crawled under my bed and am refusing to come out.  Anything is possible.

Week 1 and still kicking

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So, here I am, at the end of the first week.  I’m exhausted and spotted with hummus, but I have truffles and scones, so I think I’m still in the + column at this point.

 

First weeks are always interesting.  This one started out with a presto-change-o in the school lobby, to get me out of my don’t-break-my-ankle sandals into my look-I’m-an-adult heels.  Not my most dignified first move, but it had to be done.  If any students were watching, my credibility is gone.  But my shoes are super cute, so I’ll cope.

 

This was followed by not being able to sign onto the network.  School is famous for tech problems, and this one blossomed into an issue that took 3 days to take care of (but it is taken care of now yay).  I love my tech guys.

 

The first class went… fine.  I kind of have a weird sense of brewing hostility in the classroom, but I’m also rampantly and visibly insecure at the start, so I’ll have to report back on whether hints of mutiny are still in the air.  I got the obligatory “What are you not looking forward to in this class?” “writing,” conversation out of the way (there’s always one), and am now ready to set off on my Dead Poet’s Society mission to make these children fall in love with me and my subject.

 

Hey, shut up, I am young and naive enough to have impossible dreams.

 

Some stupid college thing screwed with my scheduling today, so class was only a half hour, so Tuesday’s impressions are still sort of today’s impressions.  Why you wouldn’t send a freaking Email out when classes are only going to be half an hour long, I don’t know…(this is the point where I descend into unintelligible muttering, so move along).

 

.  Anyway, I haven’t spent enough time in-class, so you guys will have to wait to hear more about the specifics of the week until the specifics…actually exist.

 

I guess the only weird thing I’m noticing is that one of the guys is, completely without sarcasm, calling me ma’am.  I am not sure how I feel about this.  The only thing I can fathom is that he *is* military, so maybe it’s a thing.  Either way it’s a thing that makes me feel weird, and I kinda wanna ask him not to.

 

I am not a MA’AM!

 

But I digress.

 

Other than those little stories, things have been mostly uneventful.  the only embarrassments of notice are the above-mentioned hummus-spotting (when eating at your desk, be sure to take note if your crackers have a giant hole in the middle), and accidentally requesting access to a student’s google doc with my personal Email address.  Hopefully she is not a troll who will now stalk and harass me all semester because she knows where I really live on the internet.

 

Okay, this is getting long, and I’m really tired.  Pretending to be an extrovert really takes it out of a girl.  So it’s time for tea and a nap, not sure about the order yet.  I beg your forgiveness and indulgence for the complete lack of coherency in today’s post–see above about fake extroversion being really, really exhausting.  I promise to make sense later.

 

P.S.: the truffles and scones were a care package from my wonderful mother and  one of my surrogate moms.  I love them always. Getting yummies is still just as exciting when you teach freshmen as it was when you were one, and I am spoiled beyond belief. ❤