The semester is finally over and I couldn't be happier to be at home. This year was, for many reasons, horrible. There was the house, my teaching schedule, and this one particular awful section I was teaching. II though last spring was bad when I had to practically manhandle a male student who was shooting spitballs into a pentecostal girls hair. I mean--give me a fucking break. In that same class a different student was arrested in the middle of the midterm exam. (I think he stole an ATM machine--one that spews right wing messages on the receipt.) Anyway, I almost missed them compared to this one section I was dealing--forty percent of the class failed. Several of them plagiarized and then lied about it, appealed it, and dragged the whole process on for months. Ruined the class.
My children, ages three and four, have already figured out that it is better to tell the truth than to lie about it.
Anyway--enough. I'm sure none of those kids will ever sign up for a class with me.
The writing all wee has been going well, but of course no finished anything. I'll neer understand people who are prolific.