So I have been lax, but not relaxed if that counts for anything. I haven't blogged, logged, jogged, nor grogged (ok, I have done that) in oh-so-long I feel myself sitting here thinking What crazy shit that has happened to me the past few weeks do all my non-comment-leaving-blog-faithful need to know?
I need a good story. I need something to get people BACK to my blog...something that will make them...YOU...return to me, opened-armed, welcoming...motherly.
As an overview, I have had a 60-year-old woman ask me out. Yes. 60. Of course I played the man-she-could-have-been-hot-in-the-1960s game. Wouldn't you?
I have had a student tell me (1) that she cheated on a test, and then when I wrote her up for telling me, she said (2) it is MY fault that she cheated because she didn't know it was a test even though the paper handed to her said TEST at the top and everyone in the class was quietly taking the test, along with her.
I have also had the unique experience of having the following conversation in one of my lower classes when trying to practice conceding/rebutting information:
Me: ---, I heard you don't like Mark's sweater (I tug on my sweater). Is that true?
Me: ---, did you hear me? I heard you don't like Mark's sweater (I tug on the sweater again). Is that true?
---: I guess so. But I don't know how much he sweats.
Me: Um...no...not "Mark is a sweat-er" "Mark's sweater...this...this thing right here."
But this isn't why I write. I write because when I was driving to school last week...I saw this tow truck on the side of the freeway helping a broken-down car. I thought about what a noble profession tow truck drivers have. They drive around all day and help people out. People must love them. It could be raining....people might have had car trouble in a "bad" area...and BAM, this tow truck guy comes along...and saves the day. No real preparation needed. They become these easy-going saviors.
Maybe I could be a tow truck driver. I would still be helping people...and I bet they make more money. Errrrrr.
But wait. Tow truck drivers don't always help people that call. Sometimes they tow people that don't want help. They take cars away, unknowingly, because some sap parked in the wrong spot or without a parking pass. The driver didn't want help...unwittingly, his car had been moved.
People must hate tow truck drivers. All they do is pick up and take away cars of people that don't want any help. I would never want to be a tow trucks driver and take someone where they DIDN'T want to go.
I kept driving, thinking about how the same person, doing the same job, could simultaneously be a goat and a hero...depending on the time, the day, the perspective.
I smiled, because although I just left a class where I talked about the appropriate use of commas, semicolons, and conjunctive adverbs for ONE HOUR...and people yawned...and Yawned...and YAWNED...and even though I felt like I was the worst teacher that ever "laced-them-up" in a classroom...I thought that maybe I took those students somewhere they didn't want to, but had to, go. Maybe they didn't know their brains were in the red for years when it came to this subject. They liked being there...but it was my job to move their lazy asses. I wasn't a hero. I did what I had to do to fit a greater need. I shouldn't feel "bad" for being a boring asshole. I just shouldn't...
...because as I walked out of the class...one of my students on the side of the room called me over. She needed help with one of the comma questions. She needed help because she was stuck.