"So what are you giving up ?" my son asks me this morning, casually, over an English muffin.
"Yeah, like for Lent and stuff." He picks the too-brown edge off the side and throws it to the dog. The piece bounces off the top of the dog's head and lands under the table.
"We're not Catholic," I say. "Not even a little bit."
"Well, everyone at school is talking about it, so I'm going to give something up too."
"Okay," I say. "What are you going to give up?"
"Spoons," he says.
"Spoons?" I look to see whether he is kidding, but his face is earnest. Virtuous.
"I really like spoons."
Well, okay. I'm thinking it might be an out-of-the-box kind of choice, but that's the kind of people we are.This is just a quick check-in, because a couple of people were wondering if I was dead. The answer is no, not dead, but longing for a merciful release from the purgatory of staff in-services. Today I made the presenter's face go all red and sweaty from my insightful questions,and then he just stopped calling on me altogether for some reason, so I had to go back to drawing clear boxes on my handout.
I'll be back tomorrow, after I dig my way out from under a million terrible essays that must be graded by tomorrow. Before I go back to reading and weeping, here are a couple of student essay highlights for you to ponder. Perhaps make them part of your morning meditations.
From a freshman student essay today:
The Irish gave us potatoes. If it wasn't for the Irish we wouldn't have no carbs. Some people think the Irish are always drunk, but I say be greatful for the potatoes.From a senior essay:
Thick, black, smoke poured into his every orifice, like a feast of buttermilk, or cheddar cheese.