I will be giving MidTerm Exams in every class this week. I capitalize these words, because to my students, these exams are a living entity with the power to make or break a social life, an unemployment check, job status, and in some cases, a marriage. Living entities have names, and names are capitalized. You know, like “Beelzebub” or “Torquemada.”
On the bright side, all I have to do is walk into each class, pile of tests and pile of Scan-Tron forms in hand, distribute, and watch. On the down side, I find this boring and would much rather be actively teaching something. On the bright side, maybe I can get caught up with some of those essays that are really piling up on me. On the down side, maybe I can get caught up with some of those essays that are really piling up on me. Scoring essays is depressing. But on the bright side, occasionally there will be an essay that is creative and grammatically correct and has no horrible spelling errors that leap into my face, an essay that is original and makes me smile and think things like, “Maybe somebody IS paying attention!” and “Everybody has a story to tell, and this one is awesome!” And on the down side, sometimes students just copy/paste something from the internet, print it off, sign their names, and swear to me that the likeness is a coincidence, an amazing happenstance of physics.
And sometimes, I am just tired, and tend to find fault with everything. I mean, I’m facing a full week of nothing to do but sit there and make sure nobody copies, and I’m whining about it. I need to stop doing that.
I don’t even have to grade it. The test is scored by a ScanTron machine. The machine doesn’t recognize ink. I wonder how many students will remember to bring #2 pencils?
See there, I did it again.
If I concentrate hard enough I can hear Gomer Pyle singing “The Impossible Dream.” I’ve got to stop concentrating.
Tomorrow, I try to cut down a tree with a herring. Wish me luck.
NI! Ni, ni, ni, ni, ni!
Ahh. Now I can’t hear him. Shazayum.
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