If Yoda Wrote My Course Syllabi

On Monday, beloved readers, the spring semester begins, so I've spent the last week tweaking that Guide to All Knowledge, the course syllabus, and I have come to this conclusion:  my syllabi are boring.  Boring, boring, boring.  But how, I ask you, yummy readers, can one make a list of books, a grade breakdown and an attendance policy interesting?

I'm so grateful you asked.

If Yoda Wrote My Syllabus 

Course Objectives
Students should achieve an understanding of the elements of fiction, an appreciation of the literary value of the texts covered, and the ability to write and speak about them with clarity, insight and eloquence.

This class is strong with the dark side of literature.  A domain of evil it is.  In you must go.  You must unlearn what you have learned.

Attendance Policies

All students are required to attend all scheduled classes, meetings and conferences. Please refer to your Wofford College Student Handbook for the official policies and procedures regarding absences. In my classes the following procedures will be followed [blah, blah, blah, specific numbers of absences permitted, etc, etc]
 
Bring yourself here.  Question you I will.  If absent or tardy you are, only pain will you find.  Good relations with the Wookies, I have.

Class Participation and Decorum

My classes do not include class participation scores; however, because all of the courses that I teach are relatively small (under twenty students), failure to participate in class damages the overall course community. Students are therefore required to participate through class preparation, attentive listening, and written and oral responses. Moreover, students are expected to avoid behavior that undermines or interferes with the participation of other students or distracts the professor.

A student must have the deepest commitment, the most serious mind.  Control, control, you must learn control!

Grading Scale
The grading scale below is used to determine final grades for all of my classes. Students may request their current course average by coming by my office; such an average, however, will not include work turned in but not yet graded. It will also not include any absence/tardiness penalties. I will not send any grades over e-mail, as this is not a secure method of communication.

Attachment to grades leads to jealousy.  The shadow of greed that is.  To a dark place this line of thought will carry us.

Late Assignments
If you are unable to turn in an assignment on time because of a documented illness or family tragedy, you will not be penalized for turning in work late, provided you present your written excuse within one week of returning to class. If you must turn in work late for other reasons, you be subject to the following penalties:

Do or do not.  There is no extension.

Damage to a student's personal computer or lack of access to the internet will not be considered as excuses for submitting an assignment late unless there is a campus-wide or region-wide failure.  Late penalties will apply to files submitted late for individual technological errors.

 A student uses technology for knowledge and defense, never for excuses.

Extra Credit
I sometimes offer classes opportunities for extra credit. These assignments are meant to deepen your appreciation for a subject. Extra credit is always class-wide; I do not give private assignments to individual students, as that would be unfair.

 Quizzes dropped!  Extra credit!  A student craves not these things.

The Cats Get Medieval

Welcome back, gentle readers!  Yes, I have survived the holidays, with much mirth and joy and crushing my sister at backgammon.  Well, trying to crush her.  You see, the goal of backgammon is to get all of your little pieces into the trench before your opponent gets his or hers in his or her little trench.  But...my goal in backgammon is to knock off my opponent's pieces as many times as I possibly can even if it's not a strategic move.  This causes me to either lose big or trap my opponent hopelessly.  My sister does not approve of this approach to the game, and she used a somewhat expanded version of her normal vocabulary to make that clear to me.

Fa-la-la-la-la and rejoice in the double sixes!

Now that I have returned to my home and spent the last two weeks undecorating the house, I thought that I would share with you, devoted friends, my most successful gift-giving experience:  I bought the cats a genuine cardboard medieval castle for Christmas!

Leia stakes her claim to the castle

And while my other friends and relatives expressed their appreciation for gifts with hugs and exclamations of delight and waiting until I'm not around to put the gift in the to-be-exchanged pile, the cats have really gotten into the whole spirit of castleness, repeatedly attacking it and one another with glorious and fur-flying enthusiasm.

Spike Sleepily Standing Guard Against a Sneak Attack

Moreover, and even more impressively, when I posted photos of the Cat Castle on facebook, seven of my friends immediately went out and bought one for their own medieval kitties!  Since most of those friends are fellow medievalists, it occurs to me that this may be my major influence on my field:  persuading generations of medievalists (okay, six) that Cat Castles are essential for the medievalist's household.  And, really, I'm okay with that.

The castles, which you can buy from the good people at Petco (who undoubtedly read this blog assiduously and will send me a free castle so that Spike and Leia can each rule in their very own demesne!), come with a set of medievalish stickers.

Look!  Sticker art!

But, you know, it occurred to me that the medievalish stickers were just a touch too anthropomorphic.  I mean, cats do rightfully see us as their servants, and they might pity us enough to let us stand in clanking armor in miserable weather to guard their castles, but this knight is somewhat small to be a proper feline protector.  In fact, I'm pretty sure that should a human being of this stature appear at the Cat Castle, well, things would turn out otherwise.

So for the sake of realism, I added a few artistic flourishes of my own:

Sir Soon-to-Be-Disemboweled

That's better. 

Happy New Year!

Gingerbread Art

Hello, again, beloved readers!  Surprised to hear from me again so soon?  Well, this is the week of final exams, and most of my time is spent grading, but in order to maintain what little sanity I have left, I find it necessary to take frequent breaks.  Today, for no particular reason, I decided to see if I could make gingerbread men.  No, I don't particularly like gingerbread, and it's not a family tradition to make them at Christmas, but, well, it's better than grading, right?  Right!

So I found this recipe on-line and went at it.  Some of the gingerbread men came out looking pretty nice, but others, well, I think they were too thick, and they are quite deformed.  Now, my first pottery teacher, Alicia, told me that when you're making art deformed is just another word for artistic, and that you can manipulate the most appalling-looking vessel into something that says, "Well, um, yes, very nice, but I don't really understand modern art, so well done!"

Thus, I used some red icing to turn my deformed gingerbread men into a dynamic village of ginger persons reflective of all of the emotions evoked by the holiday season.  Alicia, these are for you:

A Nice, Happy Gingerbread Man

"Socks again?"

"Whoa!  That Nog is High Octane!"

GingerVampire

Duckface-in-the-Mirror-Makes-Me-So-Sexy Gingergirl

Gingerbread Conjoined Twins

Dead Cartoon Gingercorpse

And last, and most definitely least:

Creepy GingerUncle Who's Had Too Much Scotch

Of course, none of the gingerpersons on this page are based on any real people, living or dead, except the ones among your family and friends.  Happy baking!

Meet the Neighbors

So I have hinted, gentle readers, that I would eventually introduce you to my neighbors.  Not the neighbors that called the cops on me when I was cutting bamboo with a large knife in the middle of the night (which, seriously, I still think was an overreaction), but my favorite neighbors:  A and W.

Now why, you might ask, am I not referring to these neighbors by name?  Are they secret agents?  Romulan spies?  Tea partiers?!  Fear not, my friends, A and W are lovely people, and I just want to protect their reputation by not using their first names which are, in fact, rather delightfully unusual, but would inevitably reveal their identity and, unlike me, they are respectable figures in Our Fair City and do not deserve to be associated with this blog.

Oh, alright.  I admit it:  I like calling them A and W because it makes me think of root beer. 

In any case, I have to admit that A and W are not entirely, well, normal.  Mere moments after I bought my house, even before I had realized just how far I'd put myself into debt, A trotted across the street to introduce herself and beg me not to move away any time soon.  Since she had never met me before, I found that rather oddly affectionate, but, hey, sometimes I make a good first impression, and they had no idea at that time that I would be one of those neighbors who takes five days to pull the empty trashcan away from the curb after trash pickup, thus lowering everyone's property values.

Also, I don't rake leaves.  Or pay other people to rake leaves.  So after A and W have their leaves in neat piles, my leaves spend all week drifting over to their yard where it's nice and neat with plenty of elbow room.  

But in spite of these obvious deficiencies in my character, A and W have become bosom friends and cat sitters, and I love them dearly.  And when you love someone, you must, according to all the sappy love songs and writers of Hallmark cards, show them how you feel.   So this past weekend, I snuck over to their yard and left them a gift:

An Unexpected Flamingo

This is Bill.  Bill the Flamingo.  You see, a few years ago the chair of my department, Vivian, gave each of us a flamingo as a parting gift when she retired.  I was a little disconcerted, but the more I looked at the flamingo, the more I loved him.  I named him Wordsworth and stuck him proudly in my flowerbed.

 

 

Wordsworth Showing His Christmas Spirit

Wordsworth clearly improved the neighborhood with his stoic presence.  I mean, no matter what happened to him, he stood there with quiet dignity, and he never complained about rain or snow or empty trashcans in front of the house.

Wordsworth Freezing with Dignity

 

 

Alas, poor Wordworth was crushed two years ago when a giant poplar tree fell on my house!  All that was left of this fine gentlebird were shards of pink plastic.  After a suitable mourning period, I went shopping for a replacement, and you'll be happy to know that Wordsworth, Jr. is now standing proudly in front of the rosemary wearing an elf hat.  But...and I was not prepared for this...when Wordsworth, Jr. was delivered to my house, he Did Not Come Alone.  No!  He was accompanied by his cousin, Bill.

And, as is perfectly obvious to everyone, when it comes to pink plastic flamingos in one's yard, there can be only one.  So I scampered across the street and bestowed Bill upon A and W.

Now not every neighbor would greet the arrival of Bill with open arms, but A and W are not ordinary neighbors.  They were delighted with the unexpected arrival.   In fact, I was a little disconcerted by their enthusiasm.  That was, of course, before I saw what they had, themselves, of their own free will, added to their living room that very same day:

 

 

A Most Unusual Reindeer

Yes, my friends, that is a plaid reindeer.  Plaid.  I mean, I thought I was pushing things with Bill, challenging the standards of good taste and neighborly tolerance, but...my neighbors have a plaid reindeer.  In the living room.  Clearly, I am overmatched.  So all hail, A and W! Beloved friends, matchless neighbors, and masters of decorative animal-shaped objects!  Wordsworth, Jr. and I are humbled by your presence.

And I promise to think about moving that empty trashcan any time now.

A Conversation in Target

Old Man #1:  "Here, darlin', sit down."

Me:  "Thanks.  Are you waiting for someone?"

Old Man #2:  "For the wives.  Once they get going there's no stoppin' them."

Me:  "Same with my Mom.  She has bad arthritis except inside Target where she zips around with that shopping cart and makes me dizzy."

Old Man #3:  "Here, I have an extra coke.  So what kind of tires do you have?"

Me:  "On my shopping cart?"

Old Man #3:  "On your car.  What kind?"

Old Man #2:  "Now, Jim, not this again."

Me:  "Um.  Goodyear, I think."

Old Man #3:  "Are they white walled tires?"

Me:  "What are those?"

All three old men burst into laughter.

Old Man #1:  "The only good looking tires are white walled tires."

Old Man #3: "And you can tell whether or not your tires are clean with white walls."

Old Man #2:  "You people know nothing about tires.  No one has white walled tires anymore.  And who cares if your tires are clean?"

Me:  "Do people clean tires?"

All three old men:  "Of course, you clean your tires!"

Me:  "Why?"

Old Man #3:  "Listen, Miss, you have to clean your tires!  Otherwise, they might not be clean!"

Me:  "Oh."

Old Man #2:  "Do you have a paved driveway?"

Me:  "My driveway is gravel.  Except where it's mud.  Or weeds."

Old Man #1:  "Then you should not buy white walled tires.  They are not for country people."

Old Man #3:  "That is a damned lie!"

Old Man #2:  "Watch your language!"

Old Man #3:  "Sorry.  White walled tires are for everybody who wants to look good.  You get some white walled tires, and you'll be beating the men off with a stick.  They will notice you."

Me:  "I could stand to be noticed by some men."

Old Man #1:  "But you should get your driveway paved.  It's the twentieth century, you know."

Me:  "Get my driveway paved and get a pair of white walled tires because it's the twentieth century and that's what men like."

Old Man #2:  "Don't listen to these old men.  They don't know nothin'.  Men like a nice pair of legs.  They can buy their own tires."

A Secret Plan to Use a Purple Plush Ovary to Get Out of Meetings

Alas, gentle readers, I am somewhat weary this evening.  I had too many meetings.  Meetings upon meetings.

And now, instead of having some kind of alcoholic beverage and a hot bath, I had a stimulating cup of tea, which means that I am still achingly tired but completely unable to fall asleep.  So I turned to the google, my sleepless companion, and did a search for unusual gift ideas because, if you haven't noticed, 'tis the frakking season.

Here is what I found:  <http://www.uncommongoods.com/product/reproductive-plush-organs>.  Yes, someone has designed and is selling plush toys shaped like reproductive organs.

Naturally, I had to show them to Mom, and we got into a friendly argument about which is cuter, the plush ovary or the plush testicle.  And then we got into an unfriendly argument about me waking her up from a dead sleep to show her plush toys shaped like reproductive organs.

We've agreed that I won't do that again, and she will not beat me to death with her pink cane.

Nevertheless, I am inspired by these adorable stuffed, um, toys, which are clearly meant to assist parents or teachers when introducing the concept of human reproduction to three-year olds.  And I'll bet it works, too.  Which would you rather enjoy?  Another Afterschool Special filmed in the nineteen seventies or a plush mammary that you can squeeze without embarrassment?  Not much of a contest, is it?

Anyway, I'm thinking about buying a set of them for Christmas and taking them to my next meeting.  Then, when someone says something with which I disagree, I can wave a little green prostate in the air and say, "Wait!  I was distracted by the smile on this little green prostate.  Could you repeat that?"  And, of course, no one will be able to repeat anything when someone is waving a plush green prostate in the air, and when everyone turns to look at it, I will bean someone in the face with the purple ovary and say, "Oh no!  I hate it when my ovary starts attacking people!  I move that we declare the purple ovary out of order!" 

And then it will be stuffed testicles flying here and there and everywhere, and we will have to adjourn for soothing drinks, and, most importantly, no one will ever ask me to go to another meeting again.

Probably.

Being Thankful All Month Long

One of my facebook friends suggested that I collect my status updates from the month of November into a blog post, and since that means a blog post that doesn't require that I actually think of something new to write, well, I was all over that one immediately.

Naturally, I wish to note that I am, in fact, thankful for my family, my friends, my job, my health, the health of my family and my friends and my cats, and the cease-fire in the Middle East and fluffy bunnies, etc, etc.  But then again, so is everyone else, and sincerity is all well and good, but there is enough triteness in the world already.

My Status Updates from November, 2012:

November 9th: "So, many of my facebook friends are doing that thing where they identify something to be thankful for each day in November. I shall slavishly imitate them by naming things to be thankful for that people normally overlook. Today: aglets. You know, those plastic things on the tips of shoelaces? There is just no way I could tie shoes without them.

10th: Today I am thankful for opposable thumbs. I would be a far less effective servant for the cats without them.

11th: Today I am thankful for duct tape. Also, that there is a brand of duct tape called "duck tape," giving us more than one correct orthographical option.

12th: Today, I am thankful that I do not have to sew on my own sleeves.

13th: Today, I am thankful for lampshades.

14th: Today I am thankful for the anomalous properties of water.

15th: Today I am thankful to be bipedal, as I suspect that I would be exponentially less graceful had I more limbs to contend with.

16th: Today, I am thankful for chocolate. And red wine. And chocolate together with red wine.

17th: Today, I am thankful for the tea bag. While loose tea is delightful, my office would be an appalling mess if I had to depend on it. Also, it has offered an excellent illustration to certain parties of the dangers of randomly verbing nouns.

18th: Today I am thankful for people who do not talk about themselves in the third person. Much.

19th: Today I am thankful for the Chicago Cubs. Somebody has to be.

20th: Today I am thankful for satire, without which I would be quite intolerable.

21st:  Today I am thankful for the invention of zero, as I lack the manual dexterity to work an abacus.

22nd: And today I am thankful for plants; thanks for all the oxygen, dudes! And Happy Thanksgiving to everyone else!"