After a lecture on musical devices in poetry, I took my AP class out in to the sun to talk about haiku and enjoy listening to some haiku readings. After about 15 or so poems it was starting to get old but we had about 15 minutes left until the end of the period. We were by the football field and my very atheletic group begged to go out and play red rover. Feeling adventurous, I joined in. They spared me from most of the action, but eventually someone decided to run between me and the poor kid to my right. Every bone in my hand and wrist is still aching from being barrelled in to at full speed by a varsity soccer player. I was, by God's grace, ignored for awhile, but eventually I just had to be called across. I heard my team of students behind me cheering me on, telling me to go for it. So what the heck, I did, regardless of my spastic history. I didn't make it through the hands on the other side, but I did make it OVER them. I landed on my right boob and left hand on the other side. OW! I scraped my knee somehow too. Most of my ow-ies feel better now but that right hand is still killing me...
People hate Mondays. I think this fact has been scientifically proven. Because I love my job, I don’t really hate Mondays with the passion and fervor I did when I worked in a cubicle, but there are two things I do hate:
1) Waking up at 5:15 when I’ve stayed up until 12. Uggggggggggggg.
2) I spend the morning frantically scrambling to print and copy and locate my materials. Poo.
One thing that has been excellent about this particular Monday is the uproarious time we had in third block today. During third block I teach AP English Literature and Composition. In a lecture earlier this semester I was discussing verbal irony and the difference between being sarcastic and being facetious. It came to my attention during that class that one of our more incompetent teachers was telling students that facetious (which she evidently things is spelled fEcetious or fEceStious) means “full of shit.” This is of course not AT ALL what facetious means! This particular factoid now comes up often in our class. Today we finished our lecture on allusion and tone in poetry a little early and I had a very, very mischievous moment. I decided that it would be both educational and hilarious to prepare a poster with the proper definition of facetious for posting near the room of said incompetent teacher. It is, after all, just a definition AND I am severely disturbed by this woman as she teaches students incorrect and inappropriate information (such as that elephants do not have penises) regularly and admits that what she knows about science she learned from CSI and Grey’s Anatomy. Have you seen these shows? Yes, she’s a science teacher. Sad. ANYWAY, we made a bright colored poster with the word facetious in big letters with the “a” underlined and a photocopy from the dictionary of the definition highlighted in green. Then, for the piece de resistance I did a google search of “define: fecetious” which called up “do you mean facetious” and “no such word as fecetious.” I highlighted those in green and added them to the poster. I know, I’m a terrible person. But it’s really hilarious. And what can I say, I’m passive aggressive. I think I learned this skill from my (ahem) parents. So, we posted the poster. And no, I don’t feel bad at all about it because: a) it was a public service and b) she is an idiot.
UPDATE: The poor moron saw the poster an hour or so later. She had no idea what it meant. Sources say she walked back in to her room and proceeded to tell the class her usual definition of the word. Alas, my attempt at lessening ignorance one word at a time was thwarted.
And, finally -- because I find the spam I get so entertaining, I would to share a little I received today. A secretary in Nigeria named Mr. Obimaix (referred to in the email as “she”) has $7.5 million dollars for me. Sweet! I can really use that to pay my bills. He/she wasn’t the only one with millions of dollars for me today, he/she was just the most recent. I also received three job offers this morning. Who says we’re in a recession? I always feel the urge to hit reply and send a message that says something like "You're a tool!" or something even more vulgar. However, I once saw a Dateline that sufficiently scared me in to remaining silent.
1) Waking up at 5:15 when I’ve stayed up until 12. Uggggggggggggg.
2) I spend the morning frantically scrambling to print and copy and locate my materials. Poo.
One thing that has been excellent about this particular Monday is the uproarious time we had in third block today. During third block I teach AP English Literature and Composition. In a lecture earlier this semester I was discussing verbal irony and the difference between being sarcastic and being facetious. It came to my attention during that class that one of our more incompetent teachers was telling students that facetious (which she evidently things is spelled fEcetious or fEceStious) means “full of shit.” This is of course not AT ALL what facetious means! This particular factoid now comes up often in our class. Today we finished our lecture on allusion and tone in poetry a little early and I had a very, very mischievous moment. I decided that it would be both educational and hilarious to prepare a poster with the proper definition of facetious for posting near the room of said incompetent teacher. It is, after all, just a definition AND I am severely disturbed by this woman as she teaches students incorrect and inappropriate information (such as that elephants do not have penises) regularly and admits that what she knows about science she learned from CSI and Grey’s Anatomy. Have you seen these shows? Yes, she’s a science teacher. Sad. ANYWAY, we made a bright colored poster with the word facetious in big letters with the “a” underlined and a photocopy from the dictionary of the definition highlighted in green. Then, for the piece de resistance I did a google search of “define: fecetious” which called up “do you mean facetious” and “no such word as fecetious.” I highlighted those in green and added them to the poster. I know, I’m a terrible person. But it’s really hilarious. And what can I say, I’m passive aggressive. I think I learned this skill from my (ahem) parents. So, we posted the poster. And no, I don’t feel bad at all about it because: a) it was a public service and b) she is an idiot.
UPDATE: The poor moron saw the poster an hour or so later. She had no idea what it meant. Sources say she walked back in to her room and proceeded to tell the class her usual definition of the word. Alas, my attempt at lessening ignorance one word at a time was thwarted.
And, finally -- because I find the spam I get so entertaining, I would to share a little I received today. A secretary in Nigeria named Mr. Obimaix (referred to in the email as “she”) has $7.5 million dollars for me. Sweet! I can really use that to pay my bills. He/she wasn’t the only one with millions of dollars for me today, he/she was just the most recent. I also received three job offers this morning. Who says we’re in a recession? I always feel the urge to hit reply and send a message that says something like "You're a tool!" or something even more vulgar. However, I once saw a Dateline that sufficiently scared me in to remaining silent.
I just watched the most lovely little movie. It is called Penelope, and I highly recommend it!
It's a really beautiful spring day today. It is very breezy and just warm enough to be perfectly comfortable. Even though I have a gigantic stack of papers to grade, I've been relaxing and enjoying the day of rest the way I believe God intended. Yes, I have been lounging in bed with Puck, Tio and Kate watching movies and scribbling in my journal. Alice and Scout are under the bed, but come up occaisionally to lick our faces and say hello. Every now and then they go out the hall to wrestle where we won't fuss at them to be quite. The windows of our bedroom are open and the breeze is pouring in with the sunlight. Right now Puck is snoring away at a nap and I have just put a load of laundry in the wash. It's pretty much heavenly.
I'm thinking of taking Scout for a walk in the neighborhood. We both need one.
I have been working on losing weight with Weight Watchers since the first of the year. Back about five years or so ago I lost 40lbs with ww, and did so relatively quickly. Then, all at once, I changed jobs, Puck had a major orthopaedic surgery and I had to have my gall bladder out (because of the fast weight loss). Shortly thereafter I broke my ankle. All that combined was more than I could hold in my head at once and I fell off the wagon. Since then I have tried starting back many times but have always quit, usually in week 2. Well, this time I'm sticking to it for the long haul. It's slower going than it was the first time because I get side tracked here and there, but I refuse to quit. So far I have lost 19.4 pounds. This week I will be journaling everything and doing some walking to see if I can lose more than 1/2 a pound in a week...
I'm thinking of taking Scout for a walk in the neighborhood. We both need one.
I have been working on losing weight with Weight Watchers since the first of the year. Back about five years or so ago I lost 40lbs with ww, and did so relatively quickly. Then, all at once, I changed jobs, Puck had a major orthopaedic surgery and I had to have my gall bladder out (because of the fast weight loss). Shortly thereafter I broke my ankle. All that combined was more than I could hold in my head at once and I fell off the wagon. Since then I have tried starting back many times but have always quit, usually in week 2. Well, this time I'm sticking to it for the long haul. It's slower going than it was the first time because I get side tracked here and there, but I refuse to quit. So far I have lost 19.4 pounds. This week I will be journaling everything and doing some walking to see if I can lose more than 1/2 a pound in a week...
I thought you might enjoy my next spastic moment that occurred after I posted last. As I logged off and got ready to leave Panera I wanted a refill of iced tea for the road. As I walked to the drink area I put my purse (the across the shoulder type) on and then my backpack. With a cafe full of couples and 9 year olds watching, somehow the left strap of the backpack was entangled in my purse strap behind my back -- and I didn't know this until my left arm was already stuck halfway in to the mess. So I am standing in the middle of the restaurant, drink in right hand, left hand trapped behind my back, and I can not figure out what in the world to do about it. My face must have been bright red because I could feel the heat beaming from my cheeks. The only way I could get out of the trap was to go to a table and put everything down and start all over...
The good news is that I have figured out how to allow you, my multitude of readers, to leave comments about my posts. The next challenge is how to add links with additional information about me and the rag tag characters of my life.
The good news is that I have figured out how to allow you, my multitude of readers, to leave comments about my posts. The next challenge is how to add links with additional information about me and the rag tag characters of my life.
Yup, that's me; I'm spasimodo. This is the nickname my dad gave me for being chronically spastic, and it's true. I have been spastic since birth. I drop things, bump in to things, bump my head, fall down, lose things, say the wrong words, make typos and find other ways to create situations in which I have no choice but to laugh at myself. I'm sure you've heard the old saying, "you have to laugh at yourself because you'd cry your eyes out if you didn't." Well, while very little about me is cliche, this one does hold true.
At any rate, I soon hope to leave some very interesting entries here with my musings on my work as a teacher, on writing (not just on a blog), on being thirtyish, on life in North Carolina, on my family, on my pets and whatever else enters my sphere on consciousness. In the meantime, however, I am have a bit of difficulty figuring out how to actually WORK THIS BLOG THING. So yeah -- if you reading this you are probably my mom. But in case you aren't, I hope it will look more attractive and be slightly more interesting in the very near future.
I'll leave you with one current observation. I am sitting at Panera Bread and at the table in front of me is an older couple with their 40 something year old son. They are speaking French. As I listen to them talk I think I have realized something. Maybe so many people think the French are so snobby because when they are speaking their native tongue, it sounds like they are saying "stupid, stupid, stupid, you arrrrrrrrr stuuupeeed."
At any rate, I soon hope to leave some very interesting entries here with my musings on my work as a teacher, on writing (not just on a blog), on being thirtyish, on life in North Carolina, on my family, on my pets and whatever else enters my sphere on consciousness. In the meantime, however, I am have a bit of difficulty figuring out how to actually WORK THIS BLOG THING. So yeah -- if you reading this you are probably my mom. But in case you aren't, I hope it will look more attractive and be slightly more interesting in the very near future.
I'll leave you with one current observation. I am sitting at Panera Bread and at the table in front of me is an older couple with their 40 something year old son. They are speaking French. As I listen to them talk I think I have realized something. Maybe so many people think the French are so snobby because when they are speaking their native tongue, it sounds like they are saying "stupid, stupid, stupid, you arrrrrrrrr stuuupeeed."
