Let me explain the post title. I saw the movie Knocked Up with my coworker T– today. He was running late, so when he arrived I was in a shadowy corner of the theater. The opening credits were starting, and it was clear that even though he was blinded by the light of the screen [...]
Or at least I do. I have papers I haven’t graded. I have lessons I haven’t planned. I have a set of difficult reference questions to answer, a paper to write, and a long list of chores to do that I haven’t done. So what do I do as I settle into the closet office [...]
My co-worker D– was organizing a departmental social at a Turkish food and music extravaganza, and she sent out an email to all members of our department and members of our ancillary department (ie, people we like). When I saw her, she stopped me and said “Felix, YOU haven’t responded.”
For the past few years, our school has traveled to my former high school for professional development activities. It’s fun, and there’s free food, but I can’t shake the feeling that it’s an odd thing to be wandering the halls of your high school as an adult. It’s almost as if I never left the [...]
Seriously. Five. I woke up early (translation: wife woke me up early), spent time in ye ole coal mine, shouted like a madman at the children, openly made fun of coworkers who secretly patronized me behind my back (and plotted death plots and other forms of madness), travel to the comic book store and the [...]
So yeah. I sit in the Writing Center at a table, except I don’t sit on the long end. I sit on the half end because that means I’m out of the way of all the people who pass between the “teacher’s computers” and that table. It’s 6:00 AM because I dropped off my wife [...]
So D– and C– were telling rabbit stories at work today. In the course of telling us all the cute stories about how their children cared for dying rabbits they taught me an interesting factoid about the little cottontails. The mother’s hide their young in nests.
Grade papers, that is. I wake up in my sleep clothes, tumble over to my office (my cave, or dungeon, if you will), and look at the piles of papers that exist both on the desk and somewhere in cyberspace and I think “I’ll check my e-mail.”
“Let’s go eat Italian,” they said. “How about Mexican?” they asked. I didn’t know that they meant we were going to eat at restaurants.