A Secret History

For a long time when we were together, I couldn't remember B's birthday. Then I hit upon the perfect mnemonic: the day before the ides of March. Thenceforth, I would just think erev ides, and I'd remember. I desire more than I ought to desire.

I finally went to RAFT (the Bay Area's Resource Area for Teachers), and now I can't believe I'd never been. So much wonderful stuff, and for next to nothing. Books for days, office supplies, craft materials, even furniture and a technology section. I think I'll visit again on Tuesday, when I have the day off after my appointment. Speaking of, at the last one, the doctor mentioned again that my lower mandible is too small (apparently a common issue for small women of Asian heritage), and that they would like nothing better than to break both my jaws and wire my teeth closed for a couple of months in order to 'correct' it. This would also mitigate any future TMJ issues. I, however, am not overly fond of this idea. I've never had surgery, never even had my tonsils out. I don't mind dissection, but I feel that I should be dead before someone fiddles around with my insides.

There's talk of a movie tonight. Shall we see Ong-Bak: The Thai Warrior, William Shakespeare's The Merchant of Venice, or House of Flying Daggers?

Eheu. I will not be attending Shaun of the Dead on Thursday, as I must coach grown persons in the fine art of diagramming sentences. Is this not taught in grammar school nowadays? Apparently not; the LIN 406 students called for an extra discussion session to go over parsing and other issues in preparation for this weeks' final. I enjoy diagramming, certainly; it's a relaxing and diverting activity (and my brain seems to take to it well). But I'd much rather be nibbling on salty popcorn goodness and watching zombies' heads explode.

On the contrary, first grade is treating me well this year. I love my students, and Ms. B—'s Bookworms have a really powerful classroom culture. Our morning cheer sums it up nicely. ( Read more... ) I don't know whether or not to stay in teaching for a while longer before moving on. This year has been fabulous so far, and I feel that I'm growing as an educator in many ways. Changing the lives and prospects of 20+ disadvantaged students (and their families) per year is an opportunity that should not be undertaken or relinquished lightly. But do I really want to spend my evenings away from my family for the next year, taking courses that don't speak to my inner predilections, in order to clear my credential? What I really want is simply to care for my critters, teach my (future) little ones the aleph-bet, read literature in the original, discuss it with peers, and work in my garden. Amicus Plato, sed magis amica veritas. Unfortunately, seeking truth doesn't come with a salary.

When all else fails, put your trust in the Greek. The LIN 406 students were kvetching about inflected morphemes in English, so I showed them the paradigm for ὁ κύκλος. One of them asked, "What are those words before each noun?"
"That's the definite article the," I replied.
"Which one is?"
"They all are. There's 24 forms (not counting the vocative, of course), depending on its gender, number and case, or use in the sentence."
Everyone worked with great industry for the rest of the session. I didn't even have to bust out the conjugation of λύω. As my first Greek professor used to remind us, the unflayed man is not educated.