I think I can, I think I can…

One down, three to go.
The bad news is that the class I have finished marking – marked all the finals, calculated all the grades, and submitted all the final marks for – is the smallest one, and the one for which the final essay was the shortest.
The good news is that it’s also the class I took over part way through the term, so there are students who never showed up, others who just stopped coming, and a few who were more than a little cavalier about completing assignments – which means that the class average is 59.5%… OK, that doesn’t sound like good news, but the good part is that it’s done.
It’s depressing to give a student a failing grade, even if, in one case, the student never came to class – literally – but simply didn’t know enough to drop the class.
The three remaining classes, although they all have more students and longer final papers, will be (for the most part) rewarding to mark. Most of the students put a good deal of effort and thought into their final papers, reviewing drafts and outlines with me, emailing me with new ideas, and in the case of my Detective Fiction course, even writing their own stories.
So tomorrow, when I’m hip-deep in papers, remind me that I’m happy about them now.

The life of a non-tenured teacher

The good news is that loads of students are asking which courses I am teaching next semester, because as one of them put it, “good English teachers are hard to find.”
The bad news is, the answer is no courses at all, unfortunately.
At this stage, I will be lucky to get a single continuing education course. Every winter, for a variety of reasons, college English departments have no choice but to offer significantly fewer courses than they do in the fall. So until I get tenure – which involves a number of retirements and/or unfortunate accidents – I am pretty much out in the cold come January.
Ah, well, at least I’ll be back next fall, for sure. And a few months off gives me a lot of time for planning unfortunate accidents next year’s courses.

Ding! Dong!

elections.jpgThe wicked witch is, well, not dead, as such. Seriously ill, perhaps. I’m sure I heard the witch sneeze.
Thanks to an overwhelming non-confidence vote yesterday evening, Canadians are headed to the polls in January. We are, by and large, nonplussed.
These are our candidates. I generously did not use the Village People Harper picture, but I am not above including it as a popup.
Why is this election special? Because it serves no purpose whatsoever, other than ridding Montreal streets of mayoral election posters to make room for federal election posters. Chances are, two months from now, there will be a minority Liberal government. With Paul Martin at the helm. With Layton on board to provide NDP support. And Harper across the floor. Near Duceppe.
Plus ca change…

And people wonder why it takes so long to correct an essay

heidiessay.jpg The end of the semester is two weeks away.
Needless to say, I’m planning a serious revamp of the old blog look, a good top-to-bottom cleaning of the house, a long-awaited alphabetization of the DVD collection…
I’m trying to get all my outstanding corrections taken care of this weekend in anticipation of getting a slew of final papers, grammar tests and exam papers in a matter of days. So I’m plowing through a pile of essays this afternoon.
Heidi is helping.

Plant dope

…or, revenge of the jasmine
For the last three summers, I have optimistically bought a jasmine plant for the garden, with the intention of wintering the plant inside. Each summer, the plant has done reasonably well outside, so that every once in a while on a warm summer evening, a lovely waft of jasmine-scented air drifts across the patio. The last two winters, however, have spelled doom for Jasmine.
jasmine.jpg Apparently, this year I got it right. I brought in this year’s jasmine about three weeks ago. I washed off the pot, gave the plant some water, and gave it a week to get used to its new spot in the living room window before feeding it last weekend.
On Sunday, there were buds all over it, and I was excited.
On Monday, there was an open blossom, and I was thrilled.
On Tuesday, there was a lovely waft of jasmine-scented air from the two or three open blossoms. (Seriously, I walked in the door Tuesday evening and thought suspiciously to myself “what the heck? Why does it smell so good in here? Has someone been cleaning??”) I was ecstatic.
On Wednesday, the plant was in full bloom, and the lovely waft of jasmine-scented air practically knocked me over – in the hallway. An hour after I got home, I was nauseous. By suppertime I was popping Advil for the headache. By 7:30, I made Dr. T. relocate the plant to the guest room, where it will live until it’s finished flowering.
Oh, and now the gardenia is budding…

Addition to the list?

You know you’re a Montrealer when you are the World Scrabble Champion.
Adam Logan is the latest Montrealer to take the title – following in the venerable footsteps of Dave Boys* (WSC 1995) and Joel Wapnick (1999). In the history of the World Championships, there have been 8 champions, three of them from Montreal – and one other Canadian, to boot. Considering that there are players from about 40 countries, that’s a pretty impressive record.
*DB, of course, is also a new daddy, but still managed to place 7th.

Well!!!

Yes, you are fine around others. Fine. But you wish you could have just a *little* more alone time. Okay, well, a lot more alone time. In fact, you’d be happier if you didn’t have to go out nearly as much. You get along very well with the period, who tries mightily to take up as much of the load as he can. But fools will not listen. You want to scream, “Cut it out, for the love of Safire!” But, all of that notwithstanding, you do your duty. And, if sometimes you feel like a Chicago street hooker, you also remember that you really do have an important role to play. Your soul remains pure. Hold your head high!
The Which Punctuation Mark Are You Test written by Gazda on Ok Cupid, home of the 32-Type Dating Test
Via Magnificent Octopus