Photo inspired by a post at StevenHartSite. What a fracking mess. The first thing I need to do when I go to full salary next year is buy some more bookcases. The second thing I need to do is dust.
Even the bookcases are getting sloppy.
The legate commissioned me to speak plainly and suitably about everything that need not be concealed from the Duke of Milan, who thereafter arranged for my journey by placing me in the care of his chamberlain. The latter arranged for me to be provided with hospitality and all other necessities in Carimate, which I reached that same evening at about seven o'clock, only to find that there was no time then to have an audience with the king and that my accommodation was not yet available. We therefore retraced our steps to spend the night in a village called Lentate, about a mile and a half away, but on the following morning returned to Carimate, where King Maximilian granted me an audience.
'O lovely Pussy! O Pussy my love,
What a beautiful Pussy you are,
What a beautiful Pussy you are!'
Oh well, I've taught classes of sophomores and juniors at the college level who barely knew any more than these kids do about history.
John Wilkes Booth was a local boy, and is buried at Greenmount Cemetery in B'more. The kids were interested in that at least. We read Walt Whitman's "O Captain! My Captain!" but had to spend a lot of time on context.
Their handling of foreign policy and Iraq and domestic policy might seem incompetent, but that's not their true job, at least as they see things. Their true job is transferring public resources to private hands, and they're doing a magnificent job. If Iraq or anything else was going smoothly it would be harder for them to rob us all blind.
Professional Development day. There is a scheduled "health and well-being" event, but we ditch it. Jumping jacks? Um, no. Lukie and I hang in RM218 and write lesson plans about "The Monkey's Paw" and theme, setting, and mood.
Lukie is a presidential history fanatic. She has Bachelor's degrees in writing, history, and political science. She teaches language arts because that's what the City needs her to do, but she's desperate to teach Social Studies. She just started a Master's program at Johns Hopkins in government.
"What homework are you assigning Thursday?" she asked. We're working through our Theme unit on alternate days, trying to out-do each other.
"Think of your favorite movie. What is the theme or message? Explain your answer in three sentences."
"Oooh. Good one. I'm doing one about the TLC song "UnPretty.""
"That's pretty hot. For Monday I'm asking them what they'd wish for if they had the monkey's paw." We chat in between brainstorming sessions. Lukie loves all presidents, and has photos of herself at many of their graves and libraries, including the most recent one, which shows her admiring James Monroe's marble tomb. Her favorite president is LBJ, so I ask if she knew about his giant Texas schlong.
"Of course! He used to put it on his desk."
"One time at a press conference somebody asked him 'Why are we in Vietnam?' Jonshon took out his unit and waved it around and said 'That's why we're in Vietnam!'"
"Yeah. He would follow fellow Senators into the Men's room and intimidate them by standing over them and shaking and adjusting his dick. They would vote for whatever he asked after that treatment."
Mr. Hall, a new language arts teacher, came in. "What are you guys doing?" he asked.
"We're talking about LBJ's giant dick!" she shouted enthusiastically. "Oh, and writing lesson plans."
Two new teachers started today. One is a rookie just out of undergrad, the other was a teacher at a University in Japan for a while and returned to the States only recently. They were scrubbing obscenities off the walls in their classrooms. Poor souls. They look terrified. They were placed at Booker T. and they've heard through the grapevine about what goes on here. We tried to improve their spirits as best we could.
Lukie has been sick lately, with chest pains and sore arms. I was worried about her, and it turns out she's got pleurisy. Since she teased me when I had the gout, I gave her a hard time about her old-timey ailment. We should go get a blood-letting, because obviously our vapours are screwed up.