Hey proFESSor!
So I survived the Culture Talk. In fact, it was awesome--I actually found myself kind of having fun. It did help that I held it in one of the smaller classrooms, and it turned out that only about 10 students came. Plus these were my favorite students, the bright eager sweet ones that I love so much I want to put them in my pockets and take them home with me because they're so damn cute. Yeah. I'm gradually figuring out, not just from this experience but from the whole semester of teaching huge classes, that I'm actually pretty damn good at standing up in front of a bunch of people and telling them what's up, in a fairly coherent and organized way. This is a very good feeling.
Not much else has happened this week, since I spent most of it frantically prepping for the Culture Talk (ok, this mostly consisted of stealing vast quantities of music off of Soulseek), and grading fucking thousands of tests and essays and so on. That's the sucky thing about this job: I come up with great lesson plans that have them working their little butts off writing shit, and then they actually want to, y'know, get feedback on the reams of stuff they've produced. And I'm all, LAAAME!
Last night was cool. Went into town with Depressed M and Frat M, two American guys who work in the Economics Department. They're sweet guys, and it turns out Depressed M is a fellow music snob, so that's awesome. We ended up at the pub across from the place we live. It's dark and smoky and the jukebox has Nick Cave songs, how fucking cool is that? Plus we've gotten fairly friendly with the people that work and hang out there. Towards closing time last night, and me and Dep were chatting with the woman that runs the place, using our common vocabulary of about fifty words in four different languages (English, German, Czech, and Polish) and she indicated that, yeah, they were closing, but we could sit around for a while if we wanted. At that point, this guy who'd been sitting there peacefully drinking beer all evening suddenly stood up and started chucking chairs across the room. It was fucking surreal--he didn't even look mad, just like "Ok, here's the point in the evening where we bust shit up." The bar lady got all up in his biznass, understandably enough, and a couple of other people had to physically separate them. So then we helped her pick up some of the broken glass, and that was the night. I love that bar.
Not much else has happened this week, since I spent most of it frantically prepping for the Culture Talk (ok, this mostly consisted of stealing vast quantities of music off of Soulseek), and grading fucking thousands of tests and essays and so on. That's the sucky thing about this job: I come up with great lesson plans that have them working their little butts off writing shit, and then they actually want to, y'know, get feedback on the reams of stuff they've produced. And I'm all, LAAAME!
Last night was cool. Went into town with Depressed M and Frat M, two American guys who work in the Economics Department. They're sweet guys, and it turns out Depressed M is a fellow music snob, so that's awesome. We ended up at the pub across from the place we live. It's dark and smoky and the jukebox has Nick Cave songs, how fucking cool is that? Plus we've gotten fairly friendly with the people that work and hang out there. Towards closing time last night, and me and Dep were chatting with the woman that runs the place, using our common vocabulary of about fifty words in four different languages (English, German, Czech, and Polish) and she indicated that, yeah, they were closing, but we could sit around for a while if we wanted. At that point, this guy who'd been sitting there peacefully drinking beer all evening suddenly stood up and started chucking chairs across the room. It was fucking surreal--he didn't even look mad, just like "Ok, here's the point in the evening where we bust shit up." The bar lady got all up in his biznass, understandably enough, and a couple of other people had to physically separate them. So then we helped her pick up some of the broken glass, and that was the night. I love that bar.
posted by ridley at 12/11/2004 10:28:00 AM
1 Comments:
duude! I totally have that problem! Except, I get to grade thousands of largely identical essays on the Phantom Tollbooth. Which I may never read again. The kids ruined it for me! Sob!
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