Full Circle

A couple of years ago, I wrote this:

Last night I had an odd nightmare. I was walking with my favorite professor from last quarter on the way for him to observe me teaching my class (though I don't actually have a class right now). He showed me how to whip my head around in a weird way, and then said, "Your class will think that's really funny."

I said, "I'm not the kind of teacher who does tricks."

He said, "Doesn't your class have any social interaction?"

I said, "The social interaction occurs in connection with learning. I have them do group work . . ."

Now I'm actually taking a pedagogy class with that professor, and he will be observing my class! I remembered this dream in the middle of the first class meeting, but somehow managed not to raise my hand and tell the story then and there.

Huskies

So yesterday I went to a football game. It was a good game, but we lost, which is apparently disastrous for the team's fortunes, and which apparently means that my student-athletes are going to be very glum this coming week. There was also this huge display of high school marching bands, which was my favorite thing, even though it turned out to be kind of anti-climactic since they just stood in the middle of the field in a big uniformed blob and played softly. I think I am starting to kind of understand football a little. Other than glum students, the other major negative upshot is that the temporary tattoos turn out not to be so temporary.

Raindrops on roses, whiskers on kittens

Today was the first day of school, and it was the usual circus of people comparing classes, of first-time teachers huddled around the copy machine, and of huge hordes of students surging everywhere. As I navigated through it, and said hi and how was your summer and how are your students to various people all day long, I got happier and happier not to be new. I was remembering how alien all this was when I first got here (but alien in a twilight-zone-ish, familiar way), remembering all my jaunty blog posts and the disorientation I was trying to stave off. I would have to say that on the list of a few of my favorite things, "not being new" would rank high.

Red Bike, Blue State

I've been thinking I need to get an Obama sticker for my car (and tried to get one today, but the campus democrats were all out--c'mon, kids!). As I was biking home today, I started wondering whether I need one for my bike, too, but the more I thought about it, the more it seemed that no one with a hot bike like mine could possibly be supporting John McCain. (Other kinds of hot bikes are a different story, but my awesome Cannondale seems solidly Democratic, despite the color and its Reagan-era origins.)

My Weakness

Yesterday I went to Half Price Books to see if I could get some books that I need to read for my exams.



So far so good, right? So I get the books home, and I discover . . . this.



Honestly, I have no idea what happened, but I think it symbolizes the whole process pretty nicely.

I was for it before I was against it

Josh sent me this funny article: National Endowment For The Arts Funds Construction Of $1.3 Billion Poem. My favorite line: "In addition, the tenuous line that was being drawn between the narrator's mortality and winter unexpectedly collapsed on itself Monday. Two poets were killed in the incident."

In related news, I love the way that "Bridge to Nowhere" has started working its way into the common lexicon as a metaphor. Recently I've heard it used to describe a relationship, grad school, etc. We need to take our wry chuckles where we can get them is my theory. I also just confessed to my fellow teachers that I want to use election-related materials in my class, but I am carefully scheduling things so that all that is over by election day, just in case.

Also, having considered the lobster, I feel sad about David Foster Wallace.

Relief

It turns out hospitals these days have wireless internet, so I am posting from my mom's room, while she is napping in anticipation of a delicious lunch of broth and jello. The surgery is over and went well, and I'm very relieved.



(Goatie was a hospital goat originally)

Milestone

Tonight, for the first time ever, I got paid for playing my cello. I got $12, my share of "the door." It was the band's CD release party and a fun show. The ensemble tonight was me, the baritone ukelele player/singer, the guy who bangs on a suitcase (and sometimes plays a Little Tykes xylophone, which everyone calls a glockenspiel), and the beatboxer. The CD is pretty good too.



In other news, I'm leaving for NYC on Monday.

Go Ahead and Puke

Funny headline juxtaposition from CNN.



It's odd having a famous vice-presidential candidate with my name. Really surprisingly odd.