Now, as I wait for a student who is overdue, I am grabbing some time to blog. Using Paint on the IBM the school provides for those using computers in their teaching, I give you my current descriptive image. I should be marking, but ... this is my break!
Bush, for four more years :-(
Caught between resenting the bad name being given by fundamentalists of all stripes to religion, and fear that their passion will destroy much that I value, I spend my time marking papers, fearing that my suggestions will go unheeded.
It's November. On dark days, I wilt; on sunny days, I can try to keep going.
An old poem:
November in School
In November, everything crashes -
files are lost,
cars slide into each other,
suiciding squirrels shut down generators
and I
am late for school.
In November, people weep -
assignments fail,
teachers and students snarl,
work done is less than hoped,
and more,
much more, is required.
In November, we fear -
even if Christmas ever comes,
even if spring only hides behind
the winter we have to endure,
we have lost
whatever we came here to find.
