Let's see if tonight's blogging can improve upon my experience
last night. I am definitely getting what I pay for with Blogger.
After an evening of not letting me post my most brilliant piece
of work in many months (heh, heh, check it out for yourself),
I discovered this morning that Blogger, that little vixen, had
posted my entry twice to make up for the lack of publishing
love last night. Just for spite, I deleted one of them. Ha, ha...
who has the last laugh NOW, Blogger?
I've had an interesting day. Which is what you say when you
can't think of anything nice to say, but don't want to say nothing
at all. Because my mama raised me right. And speaking of my
mama, she went to see a hand specialist today in the BIG CITY
about her FAT RED PINKY FINGER. You know, the FRPF
that one doctor said he couldn't see any infection in, that the
orthopedist said she should see an infections specialist for,
and that the infections specialist said, "It needs to be amputated.
Come see me in one week with your decision" about. The FRPF
that doesn't care if I end my sentences with prepositions.The
FRPF that first manifested itself the eve of the major ice storm,
December 1, 2006, when it went bloating up her hand and
caused her to be not quite herself and I made her drive us
to the ER on a Friday night when only a handful of people
had electricity.
I told her that they must be giving her the runaround because
she's old. Not to hurt her feelings, but you know how doctors
are. They think there is no point in maintaining the geezer's
quality of life if the geezer doesn't kick in a lot of insurance
money. Lucky for my mama, she has regular insurance as
well as that medicare crap. The 'infection specialist' was a
DO, an osteopath, by cracky! As my mama said, "Your
dad would have let me die before he would have let me see
an osteopath." Which perhaps tells you as much about my
father as it does about the osteopath.
Anyhoo...the hand specialist told her there's no need to lose
that finger. He scheduled her for surgery next Friday at his
surgery center, to clean up the infection if it's there. He thinks
it may be some kind of cyst, which another teacher went
through with her adult son, and he had a titanium plate put
into it because the cyst had destroyed the bone and made
it as fragile as eggshell. Only she called it a 'titanic' plate,
which either means that she is a great fan of the movie, or
he had a big ol' honkin' plate put into his finger, or that she
just isn't a scientific-type person. My sister-the-mayor's-wife
took our mama to the doc because I don't like to drive in the
city, and after all, I have been babysitting that FRPF for going
on two months now, and it is her turn. She's also taking
the FRPF to surgery on Groundhog Day. That's Mabel's
son's birthday, you know.
Now for my interesting day...I started it by arguing with a
lad who took it upon himself to tell me that last night on
Dirty Jobs, the guy made a 'bunghole'. To which I replied
that I didn't care to discuss it, because that was not exactly
appropriate language for my classroom. He swore that it
was not a dirty word, to which I replied "Then why did you
bring it up, if not to see what my response would be?"
Then he got all pissy about how he was just trying to give
everybody a laugh and entertain them, to which I replied
"And that is appropriate for my classroom how?" and he
pouted the rest of the hour while the girls rolled their eyes
at him and his buddy knew enough to keep his mouth shut
for just this once.
Then I had to lecture a kid for saying his cousin is "such a
Jew" because that is really not appropriate and he does not
seem to understand, so it may have to go a bit higher than
my authority. His reasoning was that "See, him and me are
not really Jews and nobody in here is a Jew and it's not like
I said the N-word or anything." He's one of your advisees,
Mabel, and I think he needs a talkin'-to. Mentor him please,
and while you're at it, tell him the giant fart he let out in the
middle of his argument was also not appropriate for my
classroom.
Next interesting thing on the horizon was the student who
approached me in the cold moldy hallway of Lower
Basementia to tell me that "Hey, do you know what I did
last hour? I was chewing on my pencil and accidentally
swallowed this thing that clicks the lead down and now it's
stuck in my throat, I can feel it. Do you think it will hurt me?"
Being neither an ear/nose/throat doctor NOR an osteopath,
I declined to give him medical advice, but asked if he'd seen
the nurse. "I went looking, but she wasn't in her office." Silly
boy. That's not where to find her. He should have checked
the main office and the teacher workroom and the cafeteria.
If he could still breathe.
Oh, then I had the bright idea to tell the kids to try to convince
ME to do something as the subject of today's Persuasive
Paragraph assignment. Note To Self: do not let kids suggest
that you do something. Example 1: I am writing to convince
you that you should shave your head and it would look real
funny and people would call you names and you wouldn't catch
lice from anybody and you could wash it easy and that's why
I think you should shave your head. Example 2: I think you
should go home and pour some salt on the table and scratch
it and then sniff it and then tell me if it smells like pepper and
write back and tell me and if you want you can have someone
in your family tape it and sent it to me thanks bye. By this
time, you must be wondering why I even bothered to read
any more, what with the blatant disregard for punctuation
and the topic sentence, five supporting sentences, and
concluding sentence, though one DID include a nice graphic
organizer from which she neglected to include even one shred
of the info in her paragraph. But I forged on to Example 3:
Have you ever thought of moving to the surface of the sun? It
is warm there this time of year. You don't need a stove. You
don't need a lamp. It's not crowded. It's a pretty yellow
color. Maybe you should think about moving to the surface
of the sun.
Technically, it fit the bill.
My students like me. They really like me. Especially if I
shave my head bald, snort salt, and move to a place hotter
than Hell.
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