“The day is coming when a single carrot freshly observed will set off a revolution.”

— Paul Cezanne

(Anne T. i love you.)

— wm

that’s it.

xo

wm

“Pedagogy. From the Greek roots “to lead a child (pais: child & ago: to lead).”

writing a five-page paper. two pages down.

the end.

“That is another question not to be asked.”

— Falstaff

“These are not books, lumps of lifeless paper, but minds alive on the shelves.” — Gilbert Highet, writer (1906-1978)

How To NOT Do Your Homework

By Wackyboy & his friends

Chapter #1 1st you feed it to your dog, cat ect. If you do not have one then you must “accidentally” drop it in the sink

Chapter #2 2nd ( if chose to drop it in the sink) fold it in half 20 times and throw it over the fence.

Chapter #3 3rd well actually 2nd if you feed it to a cat or a dog . Then you go tell your teacher that your dog/cat ate your homework.

Chapter #4 Now it happens that some teachers give you waterproof homework. If this happens then you should tear it up and put it on your dad/mom’s salad.

“The Dream Keeper”

— Langston Hughes

i hate teaming up with people for presentations. i hate it so much that it makes my skin crawl. so this part of grad school is not going that well for me.

“It’s all presentations,” one of my co-workers informed me, “You’re teaching, and you’re paying for it.”

“Your profs should be teaching — they’re the ones with the doctorates, not you!” another co-worker said. “You shouldn’t have to teach the class.”

they make me choke once i get up there, these presentations, they make me angry, they make me uncomfortable. and not in a “growing, expanding your mind” kinda way. in just an angry, this is not working for me kinda way.

i don’t like being yoked with someone (other than my husband and kids, and God knows they give me the space I need, and i can generally predict what they’re going to do.) “group process”? I do okay with group process — i yield, i go with the flow, i offer up ideas, and if something is really important to me, i fight for it. God knows we did enough of that with our political associates and PPS Equity.

i acted in a lot of plays in high school and college, worked as stage manager, managed a hair salon, modeled, all sorts of different “presentations.” Productions, if you will. i’ve competed in voice, done some theater work with Steve, i’ve presented to the school board, i’ve introduced myself and given my schtick at about one bazillion meetings. Get in, get out, hit it and quit it. Know your lines. All good. I’ve taught all grades from kinder to 8th grade in the library, and i’ve worked with high schoolers, too. I fly with that just fine.

so why the freak-out, McGill?

i saw a black guy sitting with a white guy at the library once — they were reading together. one with dreads, serious look on his face; one dishevelled, looking anxious. i could not get a bead on them — until i realized that the black guy was teaching the white guy how to read. literacy. adult literacy. one-on-one.

he didn’t know how to read but he was learning.

was that when I decided I wanted to teach? i don’t know. maybe.

all i know is that that moment, right there, with those two guys who were oblivious to me and the rest of the world around them — that is teaching.

and it did not involve a powerpoint presentation, printed hand-outs or props.

peace. and wish me luck, would you?

— wm

just got this message:

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A team of highly trained monkeys has been dispatched to deal with this situation.
If you see them, show them this information:

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Have decided not to drop out of grad school, btw. Just sayin’. In case you were worried.

Funny scene from restaurant last night:

We were seated next to a table full of drunk, white, middle-aged couples. Whereas we are middle-aged, we were not drunk, giving us the upper hand when it comes to recounting this story.

“Jungle Boogie” starts playing over the speakers. One of the women jumps up, starts dancing in the aisle, spanking her own ass, etc. Honestly to Mike, if there’s anything worse than a drunk white lady spanking her own ass and dancing to Kool & the Gang in the suburbs, well. At the moment I cannot think what that worse thing would be.

The waiter stops by with the check. I’m all, Are you catching this? He says, Yeah, I’m changing the station right now. This waiter has really grown on me — we talk literature all the time — this is our family’s usual spot, we’re there once a week or so. I told him he needs to give up waiting tables for now and just get into Columbia, Berkeley, Reed, whatever it takes. His response is always, Eh. Yeah, someday. Then he gives me another reading list: “Feed,” “Brave New World,” “The Master and Margarita.” “You’ve never read ‘Animal Farm’? Seriously?” (…and you claim to be a teacher, woman? haha.) I don’t care for dystopian fiction, so much, it’s Steve and Wacky Girl’s thing more than mine, but my students are nuts for it. I need to at least attempt to keep up.

He flips the station. The drunks are disappointed. “Awwwwwww, you changed the station!”

“Yeah,” he says, flip, “Who doesn’t love Foghat?”