Oh, winter at a nw Iowa university. It’s 1*F outside. I have 36 freshman essay drafts to mark inside. I want to play with my spinning wheel instead. Amelia wants to play with me instead. Zeke is in full birdie springtime mode and wants to procreate with my left hand.*
Astrid, who’s all of four years old and completely jaded, is just sleeping next to the computer.
Last night, however, I got to eat Mexican on the university’s tab and chat with champion slam poet Buddy Wakefield. And I’ll go to his campus performance tonight, hopefully feeling virtuous for marking at least 25 papers.
On Friday morning, the dean of my department, my direct boss, came to my class to observe my teaching — he has to sit in on every instructor once a semester. I did my thing, a nifty little lesson on incorporating stylistic devices into papers that I
stole got from T.R. Johnson, and then set the students to adding some of the figures to their drafts, working on their laptop computers. Of course, one girl spent the time playing solitaire, probably for 15 minutes by the time I worked my way around to her side of the room. And OF COURSE, she was blissfully and obliviously doing so sitting right next to my dean. Grrr.
In other news, that afternoon I went to get an eye exam and new glasses, having completely neglected my eyes (and my teeth — the dentist is next) during graduate school. Because they didn’t have frames that would shoot fiery lasers at students playing solitaire in class, I chose these
in coppery brown. I’m going to start dyeing my hair red again soon,** and that’s as much makeover as this little black duck is ever gonna get.
*never my right hand. What’s up with that?
**When I get rid of my extensive gray, my eldest sister can delude herself into thinking that I am younger, which means she’s younger, too. See? I’m not vain, I’m doing it out of the goodness of my heart…..