Advent -- just in time!

After a long November of November-ness, I am so glad to tear off that page on my refrigerator calendar!  Thank you so much to anyone who thought a kind thought about me and my family as you wandered by this dormant blog during the past couple of months.  I can feel the cyber-love!

Today let's talk about books!

My Advent Calendar for Book Lovers keeps me thinking and browsing through stacks of storybooks all year long.  I have an affinity for older stories, mostly because they are the books I loved as a little girl, or were the books my kids loved when they were little themselves.  But the annual tradition I have created for myself here allows me to immerse myself in the children's section of Barnes & Noble, "doing research."  You will just have to imagine me, sitting in a wee little wooden chair, pouring over gorgeous storybooks with my knees tucked under my chin.

Heaven!

Let's see what we come up with this year!

+ + + + + + +

 

Well, so the girl in charge has been home for Thanksgiving (she flies back to Atlanta today -- sniff!) and while she has been here, she has been tucking into her old friends, the Little House books.  Since I spent my entire childhood carrying around one or another of these treasured companion books, when I see my girl doing the same thing -- well, it brings a little tear of joy to the eye.

I have said before that my favorite of the Little House Christmas stories is the tale of Mr. Edwards' encounter with Santa Claus, on a muddy street in Independence, Missouri (this story is a chapter in Little House on the Prairie).  I also do love the story of Laura's beloved doll Charlotte, found in Little House in the Big Woods.  But I was thinking about the fourth book in the series, On the Banks of Plum Creek, and it occurred to me that this book is just chock full of Christmas.

Wilder tells us that one early Christmas, the family exchanges no gifts, but Pa buys horses that they will need for plowing come spring.  And of course the book ends with Pa's arrival at home on Christmas, after being trapped in a snow bank during a four-day blizzard -- and eating their Christmas candy so he can survive.

But for most Little House lovers, the fabulous Christmas story in this book is the chapter called "Surprise."  Who can forget the church Christmas party, at which Laura sees her first actual Christmas tree?

Everyone stood up to sing and Laura stood up, but she could not sing. Not a sound would come out of her throat. In the whole world, there couldn't be a store so wonderful to look at as that tree. After the singing, Mr. Tower and Mr. Beadle began taking things off it, and reading out names. Mrs. Tower and Mrs. Beadle brought those things down past the benches, and gave them to the person whose name was on them. Everything on that tree was a Christmas present for somebody!
 
Mrs. Tower stood smiling, holding out the little fur cape and muff.  "For me?" Laura said. "For me?" Then everything else vanished while with both arms she hugged the soft furs to her. She hugged them tighter and tighter, trying to believe they were really hers, that silky-soft little brown cape and the muff.

  

"What do you say, Laura?" Ma asked, but the Reverend Alden said, "There is no need. The way her eyes are shining is enough."

Gets me every time.

Harrumph!

 

So I have been reading reading through all the class information packets that got sent home with the sunny girl on the first day of school, and I think I may need to poke a stick in my eye to obtain a little relief.  In Prince William County, Virginia, the first week of school is nothing but forms, forms, info packets, forms, and requests for donations.

Photo courtesy of the fabulous Miser Mom

Every class has a different set of forms to read through. And all of these freaking forms have to be signed by a parent:  "Yes, I realize that my child will be required to attend this class.  Yes, I realize that my child is required to wear clothes to school.  Yes, I realize that you think my child is a dumbass and comes from a family of litigious dumbasses who will sue you if you don't state categorically that students are required to provide their own pencils."

But today the one form that has particularly frosted my cake is a particular teacher's screed about all the nonsense up with which she will not put.  She uses very huffy language (kinda like I'm using now), and I was actually only partially offended by her tone ( I do love a teacher who won't put up with a lot of nonsense). 

But my head exploded when I read this:  " . . . so keep your electronic devices off and out of site."

People, I get that we are all busy, and everyone makes mistakes or overlooks typos, but come on! --

1.  You are a teacher.
2.  You are introducing yourself to your students, and should want them to see your best possible self.
3.  You are also introducing yourself to their parents.
4.  Some of their parents can actually read, and do know the difference between site and sight.
5.  You had the whole summer to proofread this document. 
6.  You would lower the grade of a student who made this mistake.

Harrumph!

. . . because kittens!

So we are floating on a wave of happy around here because kittens!

 

And believe it -- objectively speaking, I could throw some weighty "woe is me" statements around,

but I can't because kittens! 

I mentioned a while ago that some heavy-duty shit has gone down amongst the family et cetera, but: kittens! 

The heavy-duty has stuck around, and it does suck sometimes to be a grownup,

 but I think I'll make it because kittens!

And the sunny girl will definitely tell you:  "Kittens!"

This even though she is contemplating her junior year of high school.  Angst!  Angst!  Oh, wait -- kittens!

So I do know everything is eventually going to be OK.  Because kittens!

I guess a place to sit is too much to ask for . . . .

 

Well so here's just a little update on my first day of classes at the community college:  What the hell?

Every student showed up to attend this composition class and receive the gift of my brilliance or at least snag a copy of the syllabus.  The class size is supposed to max out at 27, and believe it when I say the doodahs and pooh-bahs bang it into our heads that no class may ever be expanded beyond that maximum number.  "Don't make any false promises to a student!  A closed closed is a closed class!" they say.

 So I was thrilled and not at all surprised to find 28 names on my roster.

And it was even better than that because this classroom has only twenty desks.  Being gifted at math, I used my fingers and my toes to count them up, and said to myself, "I think this might be a problem."  Then I took some students with me on a stealthy mission to steal chairs (extra actual desks would be too much to dream about).  I figured I only needed seven more.

 

So this nice-seeming girl went home after her first day of college and reported to her mom that she sat on the floor.  So that's tuition money well-spent, don't you think?

First day

Well, today begins the fall semester of classes at the community college where I teach introductory writing courses.  I'm looking forward to meeting my new students because the students I have had in the past have been hilarious.  Sometimes they just didn't know it.

Here are some actual things my actual college students have actually said to me:

* * * * *

Here was the sentence under discussion:  We were annoyed by his digging in the yard.

ME:  In this sentence digging is a gerund, because it is a verb form used in place of a noun.
STUDENT:  Now you're just making stuff up, aren't you?

* * * * *

Talking (as I do over and over and over) about the correct use of subject and object pronouns:

ME:  Him and me went to a bar.  Who can tell me what's wrong with this sentence?
STUDENT:  Well, it's wrong because . . . -- hey!  Who did you go to a bar with?!

 * * * * *

During a unit on fairy tales, I went off about why, and how much, I hate the Disney version of "The Little Mermaid."   I may have even stamped my foot.  I was eloquent, y'all.  When I paused to take a breath when I finished, I heard someone mutter, "Dang . . ." under his breath.  And then a girl raised her hand and said, " No offense, but if you talk like that at home, your kids must really hate you."

* * * * *

During that same fairy tale unit, the class considered Angela Carter's "The Company of Wolves," a dark feminist re-telling of the Little Red Riding Hood story.  The phrase we were considering was:  "Carnivore incarnate, only immaculate flesh would appease him." 

STUDENT:  Maybe it means that her innocence is what saves her?
ME:  Well, but is she really that innocent?
ANOTHER STUDENT:  She's banging a werewolf -- how innocent can she be?

* * * * * 

I can't wait!  Let's do this!