For the record, I spent half an hour searching for a rhyme for neiges that would appropriately convey just how friggin cold it is. Minus 21 C with the windchill, which is -6 F for the Yanks.
Ah yes, the windchill. There are no words strong enough to express just how much I hate windchill. Every year I waste several valuable minutes wondering just why, out of all the Commonwealth destinations my parental units might have chosen, we ended up here. Why did the French settlers stay, those many years ago? Historical text after text tells us that the settlers’ numbers were drastically reduced every winter, because of extreme temperatures, no food, impassable routes, and so on. So why do we stay? What are we trying to prove?
And yet, here I remain… Despite the obvious ridiculousness of our winter weather, I love this place. Sigh
Living in Limbo
My career is careering.
Originally, I was offered two courses for next semester. Registration, which is still underway, has thankfully filled both courses, and they will both go ahead. However, one of my colleagues, who has permanence, has lost a course due to poor enrolment. As a result, she gets one of my courses, since I’m at the bottom of the seniority/priority list. However, this same colleague is being wooed by an international aid organization for a position in Belgrade. She believes she’ll find out by the end of this week if the organization is willing to meet her salary demand. If so, then not only would I keep both my courses, but I would also get one of hers.
The other scenario is that registration will prove that another section of English for the Social Sciences is required. That extra section would go to said colleague, leaving me with the original two courses.
In the meantime, AUGHGHGHGH, as Lucy would say.
November 2003
Wednesday, November 26, 2003
The end of the semester cannot come too soon
Last night I dreamt about essays.
You know those dreams, as a student, in which you arrive in class to discover there’s a huge test on something you’re completely unfamiliar with? Well, teachers get ’em too.
I told one of my colleagues about the essay dream. Her recurring nightmare – she’s in a classroom, and the students are talking, throwing things, and generally being rowdy. At the top her lungs, she’s shouting for order; but her voice comes out in a tiny, inaudible whisper.
Shudder.
Monday, November 24, 2003
Better blogged than never
You know it’s a real phenomenon when it gets spoofed in The Onion.
Having said that, I was about to apologize for the recent inactivity when I realized that I’m not alone. Many of my fellow bloggers are behind the times, and mine is not the most out of date. So pppthtth.
My excuse is the same old tired one about being up to my eyeballs in correcting and planning. There are exactly 12 school days left before the end of the semester – and for my 101 class, that means only 5 classes. There is no way I’ll have time to teach them everything they need to know! In retrospect, I guess I should have started discussing poetry earlier in the semester, but in my defense, it sucks. Ah well, live and learn (or not, in the case of my students).
Not all poetry sucks, of course. I do like limericks. And the best part of being the teacher is I get to choose what we’re reading, so I can skip the namby-pamby Wordsworthian fluff and get right into the meatier Blake and Auden.
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.
Saturday, November 15, 2003
What government funded research is doing these days:
Proving that Kansas is flatter than a pancake.
The philosophical implications alone are staggering.
Thursday, November 13, 2003
There’s something in the hair
First I was a brunette. Then a blonde. Then a brunette again.
And now for something completely different:
Monday, November 10, 2003
Still learning something new everyday
I’m once again up to my eyeballs in corrections. This week, it’s the final exam for my Prep students, including essays, and another essay for my 101 students.
Part of the final exam is reading comprehension, based on a short text by Timothy Findley in which a father commits suicide by jumping off a bridge while his son looks on. One of the exam questions is, essentially, why. One student wrote that the “father had good reasons and he wanted to commit suicide. It was not a one day pansy.”
I am assuming the student meant ‘a passing fancy.’ Nonetheless, I love it. I vote we adopt it into the language immediately.
Another dream that will never come true…
The Concorde’s last flight has come and gone. My dad forwarded some pix from the final flight.
Tuesday, November 04, 2003
First the bad news:
It’s friggin snowing.
The good news: I have managed to get through all my corrections.
The bad news: Another in-class essay to correct today, for tomorrow. And another one will be written in-class on Thursday. And an exam, including an essay, will be written Friday.
The good news: It’s official – I will be teaching two courses next semester, both on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I will be able to leave home Tuesday morning, and go home Thursday afternoon. So, good to be working, and good to be home more often.
October 2003
Thursday, October 30, 2003
Hep, hep, I’m drowning
Anyone want to volunteer to correct 78 essays, 30 grammar tests, 28 paragraphs on theme, and a few random exercises?
Sigh.
My life is a blur of red ink.
Thankfully, I have not encountered Sir Firstival so far. On the other hand, I’m valiantly fighting the dreaded sore throat dragon all by myself. To add to the tension, my Prep Plus students are writing their Prep exam next Friday, and I think I’m more nervous than they are about the results.
Wurstival, Dr. T got home from Malaysia Sunday afternoon, and I left for Lennoxville Sunday evening. So he’s finally home, and I’m not. TGTIF.
Thursday, October 23, 2003
Scrabble Update
Well, the results are in: Dr. T is officially the 37th best Scrabble player in the world!!
The first and second place finishers, who will play a best-of-five final tomorrow, are both Thai. The best Canadian was Dave, who placed 16th, followed closely by Joel Wapnick in 17th. Dave and Joel are Montrealers, too – the fourth Montrealer, Emmanuel, finished in 81st place.
Wednesday, October 22, 2003
Scrabble Update
Dr. T has moved up to 26th place after 15 rounds.
The top Canadian at the moment is Dave Boys, in 7th place.
Regular play is scheduled to end with the 24th round tomorrow, but it seems they only played seven games today (in the middle of our night, that is), so I’m not sure what their plan is.
Watch this space!
Tuesday, October 21, 2003
Scrabble Update
After the first day of play, Dr. T is in 30th place (field of 90), having won 5 of his eight games.
The top Canadians are Dave and Joel (both former World Champs, and both members of the Montreal Club, where, it seems, there’s something in the water). The fourth Montrealer, Emmanuel, is not doing as well, but there are 16 games to go!
Saturday, October 18, 2003
Sigh
Dr. T is on the other side of the planet. He’s playing in the 2003 World Scrabble Championship in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. Play begins Tuesday morning (which is Monday evening for us) – updates should be available on the link provided herein above heretofore nonetheless whereat.
This means not only two weekends without my man, but also random fits of jealousy and resentment because he gets to go way far away, and stay in this hotel:
In the words of Bill the Cat, pththththwpth.
Kick ass, and hurry home.
Friday, October 17, 2003
Proof of Purpose
One of my colleagues, who’s been teaching for close to twenty years, reported a brand new act of terrorism committed upon the language by a student in a recent essay:
Firstival.
As in “first of all.”
I kind of like it – especially as a Round Table name – Sir Firstival.
Ah, there’s nothing like a renewed sense of purpose. Some one has to stop these random acts of linguistic violence.
Wednesday, October 15, 2003
Not that we’re into propaganda or anything…
Soldiers in the 2nd Battalion of the 503rd Airborne Infantry Regiment have been bombarding (no pun intended (oh, who am I kidding)) American newspapers with letters extolling the virtues of working in Iraq.
These letters are filled with positive, upbeat reports of how quickly things are moving ahead. So quickly, it turns out, that the individual soldiers didn’t have time to write individual letters. Thankfully, their command staff stepped in, whipped up a form letter, and all the overworked soldiers had to do was sign their names.
Somehow, though, the American newspapers discovered the snow job, and aren’t impressed.
Soul Food
Amnesty International (the local branch, I assume) are having a bake sale on campus today. Activism never tasted so good!
In other news
It looks pretty definite that I’ll be teaching two courses next semester. One of these will be English for Special Care Counselling – this is the “How to Write a Research Paper” sequel to the “How to Write an Essay” Intro course I’m teaching this semester. But Course #2 is my very own course!
I’ll be teaching a second-year course on Montreal authors. My biggest dilemma so far is who to exclude. We are a prolific island. Naturally, I’ll do my best to include Bill.
Did I mention that I am the featured New Teacher on the college web site? I hope this doesn’t count as my 15 minutes.
And can I just reiterate that I am definitely the least photogenic person on the planet? I should have a certificate or something.
Friday, October 10, 2003
Haiku-ku-ka-ju
See Hiroshima leaves on the road bed
Winter is a-comin’ in.
Wednesday, October 08, 2003
An interesting British study…
A recent scientific study found that the kind of male face a woman finds attractive can differ depending on where she is in her menstrual cycle. For instance, if she is ovulating she is attracted to men with rugged and masculine features. And if she is menstruating, she is likely to prefer a man doused in petrol and set on fire, with scissors shoved deep into his temple and a cricket stump jammed up his arse.
Thanks very much to my friend Mark.
Monday, October 06, 2003
Does Linus own a tux?
It’s the Great Pumpkin Ball!
(My alternative approach was to make a joke involving Peter, Peter Pumpkin Eater and foreplay.)
Haiku-ku-ka-ju
See Hiroshima leaves on the road bed
Winter is a-comin’ in.
Marie Antoinette: The Journey
Antonia Fraser
I’ve read several of Fraser’s royal biographies, including Mary Queen of Scots and The Six Wives of Henry VIII. I was very much looking forward to Marie Antoinette – I resisted buying it in hardcover, and made myself wait til I had time to devote to the paperback (500+ pages).
Marie Antoinette is, for me, one of those historical figures who ubiquitousness (yes, it’s a word) led me to believe I knew everything I needed to know about her. Fraser’s book, however, details a genuine riches-to-rags saga filled with minutiae of the French and Austrian courts, the events that culminated in the deposition and execution of Louis XVI, and the fall from grace of the French queen.
I’m sure that many of these details are easily found elsewhere, but I do enjoy Fraser’s approach, even if she is unapologetically apologist. I do think the book would have benefited from some careful editing – some of the minutiae is repetitive or altogether unnecessary – and unlike other historical bios I’ve encountered, this one didn’t include any family trees or other visual representation of the major players. In this case, where the vast majority of ‘characters’ are titled, it’s not always easy to keep track of them – especially when titles are passed on to heirs, exchanged voluntarily or by royal decree, or forsaken for a more Republican name after the Revolution.
I also found myself very occasionally put off by Fraser’s insistence that her reader already knows all the salient facts, and is merely looking for hypothetical explanations. Granted, this approach is better than a condescending one that assumes complete ignorance; but given that I didn’t know about the infamous Diamond Necklace Affair, for instance, I would have appreciated some explanation of why it’s such a big deal to historians.
Overall, I enjoyed the journey, and I’m glad I know a little more about Marie Antoinette, who never, ever, invited the peasants to eat cake.
Call this one a recommendation if you like that sort of thing.
The Million Book Club
Our somewhat sporadic book club met last night to discuss Everything is Illuminated. As usual, some of us loved it, some us, not so much. Also as usual, the conversation was stimulating; I always love talking shop with other readers, gleaning new insights and approaches, discovering anew how different the reading experience is for each reader.
I was particularly appreciative of Danielle’s invocation of Gabriel Garcia Marquez – despite how much I enjoyed Everything is Illuminated, I hadn’t taken the time to question exactly why. With the mention of Magic Realism, and in particular One Hundred Years of Solitude, everything was, indeed, illuminated. So, to add to my previous recommendation, if you liked OHYS, you’ll probably enjoy EII.
Our next book is George Singleton’s The Half-Mammals of Dixie, a collection of short stories set in the American South.
Call me a cynic, but…
Sharon’s right-hand man, Ehud Olmert, says that killing Arafat is definitely an option. This follows Israel’s threat to force Arafat into exile. It also follows widespread demonstrations, in reaction to the exile idea, from Palestinians and others in support of Arafat.
Prior to the initial threat of exile, many Palestinians would have been nonchalant about the voluntary resignation of Arafat, and would likely have rallied behind a new leader in the hopes of finally resolving the Palestinian-Israeli conflict. ‘Let’s get back to the so-called road map’ was the prevailing sentiment.
Not surprisingly, at the first hint of an imposed exile, Arafat is newly popular, a beloved leader that Palestinians are 100% behind.
Imagine what their reaction would be if Israel makes good on the assasination threat.
First of all, removing Arafat is a useless gesture that will only serve to ascerbate the situation and create a martyr around whom the anti-Israeli movement can rally. In the introduction to her newest edition of The Demon Lover, Robin Morgan makes the point that removing the leader from a terrorist organization will no more end terrorism that would Bill Gates’ having a heart attack end capitalism – nor, as a friend commented, would it end Microsoft.
Secondly, many would argue that the only difference between Arafat and the hawkish Sharon is international recognition – and that the only difference between the Palestinian war effort and that of Israel is tanks and uniforms. Can the Palestinians reply that sure, they’ll dump Arafat, provided the Knesset ousts Sharon? We’ll depose our leader if you depose yours? How can the Israelis legitimately call for a clean slate on one side without putting forth some of their own representatives who are a little more flexible and a lot less retaliatory?
It all makes me wonder if the Israeli leaders are even remotely interested in the famous road map. Maybe what they’re really looking for is an excuse to eradicate the problem – if we can provoke a big enough Palestinian revolt, we’ll have no choice but to go in there, guns blazing, and just get rid of the problem once and for all. After all, if there are no Palestinians, there can be no Palestinian-Israeli conflict.
Who will we stare at now?
Bennifer is no more. Everyone from CNN to the BBC is fascinated. According to these various sources, however, the break-up (if there is one) may be only temporary. Phew.
There is no mention of this latest tragedy on the official J.Lo site. The Baffleck site is temporarily down for reconstruction. Perhaps he’s having all references to the Jersey girl eliminated?
More great moments in journalism
An Italian company offers collector series bottles, including a series devoted to Adolf Hitler.
The bottles were the subject of a small item in today’s Gazette. I suspect the copy editors were indulging a rather dark sense of humour. The headline?
Hitler wine labels in Italy spark German furor