Never a good omen on Halloween

A few minutes ago, my office phone rang wildly. I didn't have Voicemail turned on, so whoever was calling let it ring a dozen times. I finally picked it up; it was the least I could do, since the caller had the patience to let the damn thing ring so long.

"Professor Kitty? This is Yolanda* from your 1:00 Comp II—I just heard we had a bomb threat on campus. Are we still having class?"

I was quiet for a second. "A what?"

"A bomb threat," she continued. "My friend just came from Hillsberg Hall*, and she says there's a bomb threat over there, and since we have class in Bosley* next door...is class cancelled?"

"Umm...I think someone's playing with you, but let me go ask the English front office. They'll know." I put Yolanda* on hold.

Susie confirmed the rumor—Hillsberg Hall* had had a bomb threat (the first in 18 months!) and was being evacuated. So much for letting the faculty know. No mention of it in my D2U e-mail or the Advance Threat Warning System that the Board of Regents was supposed to have installed on our phone system. Hmph.

"As far as I know, classes are still on," I told my student. "Sorry to let you down."

************************************

AND, to make up for this crappy excuse for a Halloween post, I will simply have to direct you to last year's E&P Halloween special. I was fresh out of ideas this year...maybe I should've gotten more chickens.

Various & sundry cats

Because it's been a rather busy week—but mostly because I'm feeling lazy and uncreative—I give you a few kitty pictures today.

Ernest misses Wide Lawns Kitteh/Amber, but won't admit it. He's either snuggled up here on the printer, or walking around the house meowing pointlessly.

Two of Kamakura's babies, whom I call Moo-akura (black-and-white) and Stripe-akura (gray tabby/orange calico) have been coming up to eat at the Happy Kitten Cottage Cafe. Their mama is under and behind the chair, to the left.

And yes, Kamakura has been spayed. Hooray!

Here's a closer shot of Moo-akura. A whiny yet sweet girl, and the only one of Kamakura's babies who'll let me pet her.

Myrtle Mae shares a snack on the back porch with Applebee, resident yellow tomcat. I named him Applebee because he's "eatin' good in the neighborhood"—way too fat to be a simple stray tomcat, he eats at three or four different houses on my block.

This kitty is a boy.

Yep. Confirmed. Just goes to show you how much I know about cat genitals.

Sorry for the wonky picture quality; kitty has just discovered the spare-bedroom window and was having a good time sniffing the crisp fall air.

I've made up a flyer and will be posting it near Awesome Methodist College over the next couple days. This cat is way too sweet and friendly not to be someone's kitty—when I pick him up in my arms, he "kisses" me and knits around my neck as if he's hugging me. This is someone's kitty gone missing, and I know they must want him back.

Wide Lawns Kitteh has a forever home!

Yesterday afternoon, I took Wide Lawns Kitteh (also known as "Amber") to her new home in D2U City. Susie*, the D2U English Department receptionist, was eager to have the new kitty join her family of one other kitty and one small dog.



"Holy mother of Bastet. We're not going to the vet again, are we?"

At Susie's apartment, we opened the cage door, and watched to see how Bogey, the mostly-Tonkinese cat, and T.J., the Chihuahua-Dachshund mix dog, would react to having a sister.

The above scene lasted for about half an hour. Bogey and T.J. watched. Wide Lawns Kitteh/Amber stayed in her cage and growled.

"Ummm...kitteh? My toy is by your cage. Can I have it back?"

T.J. ran away right after I took this picture. He'd offered his Pound Puppy to WLK/Amber to play, but she hissed and spat at him. He was too afraid to get his toy back on his own; Susie* had to get it for him.

Silly dog.

"I like it in the litter box. Now go away."

Back at the Happy Kitten Cottage, Clark and Martha Ann seem to be missing Wide Lawns Kitteh/Amber; they grew pretty close to the little stray campus kitty, grooming and playing with her every chance they got. So they've been pretty sedate today. Ernest, however, is pretending he's all right, running around and raising hell with the other cats...and hoping we don't hear that "lost meow" he lets out now and then as a sign of loneliness now that his best-buddy-ever moved away.

Updates on Wide Lawns Kitteh very soon—I told Susie* I'd call her this afternoon to check on everybody's new little sister.

UPDATE: WLK/Amber is doing very well—Susie says after all the hissing died down, her new kitty is ruling the roost. The boys mind their little sister, for the most part, and WLK/Amber is learning how to get along with a dog who's not much bigger than she is. Hooray!

What can I say?

Yesterday (Tuesday) was chilly and rainy here in central Georgia, and we were all thankful for some real precipitation. The drought this year has been terrible—among the worst in recorded state history—and even though students and faculty alike had to slog through almost-all-day-long driving rain to get to class, I heard many say that they were happy to see a real, substantial storm for once.

I love rainy days, especially when I can stay home and watch the droplets falling from the sky. But I had to be at D2U yesterday for office hours, meeting with students solid from 11:00 until just after 4:00. (It was worth it; they're coming in with some decent papers this time.) I stayed a little late to take care of some lesson plans for later this week, then drove home very slowly, taking care not to hydroplane the little truck off into the ditch. So many people around here have forgotten how to drive in the rain, it's been so long since we had any.

I was three blocks from the Happy Kitten Cottage when it occurred to me that I was completely out of outdoor cat food. "Dammit," I said to the empty cab of the truck. Had I remembered five minutes earlier, I could've taken a shortcut and gone directly to my usual grocery store. But it was out of the way now. I'd have to go to the new Piggly Wiggly grocery store on my side of town. But, no, scratch that—when I shop at the Pig, I invariably see someone I know (former students, high-school acquaintances, old neighbors), and I was really tired and not in the mood for small talk in the checkout line. I went across town to my usual store instead, even though it was three miles out of my path. Rarely do I see someone I know in there.

I picked up ten pounds of cheap store-brand kitty food for the outdoor cats and headed on home, the truck's windshield wipers on high. It was really pouring now, and I was thankful I'd been able to get back in the truck without getting completely soaked. It was 6:00, near the end of Small Town rush hour, and everyone and their grandmama was trying to get to the grocery store and get the hell home before the next big wave of storms rolled in from Alabama.

I was about to turn to go my usual way home, but something told me to take the shortcut past Awesome Methodist College. Since the episode with Martin a couple months ago, I've made a point of listening to my instincts. So I whipped the truck around the corner and headed down the street past AMC's brand-new dormitories. When I drove between the dorms and the student parking lot, I saw an adorable sight: a young man with grocery bags in his hands, waiting patiently for a space in traffic so he could dash across the street with the cute little yellow puppy at his feet. I slowed down when I was about 40 yards away, and the student looked down, readjusted his bags in each hand, and took off across the street through the rain, all in one motion. But the puppy didn't go with him. The young man looked back over his shoulder once, then ran into the dorm. The puppy had dashed under one of the parked cars near the edge of the AMC student lot.

I drove on by, nodding to the young man. "Why doesn't that look like a puppy?" I asked myself. "Why didn't it follow him?"

I looked up in the rear-view mirror, expecting to see a small dog tottering across the street after the student. I slowed down.

That was a yellow cat rubbing against the young man's ankles. And it had run back under a car when I came driving by.

I pulled the truck over immediately and put the hazard signals on. I felt under the seat for my usual cans of cheap cat food—damn. Fresh out. Without even thinking, I took the keys out of the ignition, locked the truck, and walked back to where I'd seen the cat. The rain was still coming down steadily, though not as hard as it had a few minutes earlier.

"Kitty? Kitty-kitty-kitty?" I called.

Nothing.

"Kitty? Kittykittykittykitty-kiiiiitty?" Where could that cat have gone? Had I been seeing things? Sometimes I hallucinate when I'm really tired.

"Mrroww?" My hallucination sprinted out from beneath a beat-up mid-'80s Pontiac. "Mrroww?" The cat came over to me and began rubbing itself on my ankles. But another car splashed by, and the soaking-wet light-yellow tabby cat ran back under the Pontiac. I walked briskly back to the truck, made a U-turn in the middle of the street, and drove back down to the parking lot, where I pulled in and left the hazards flashing. I called again.

"Mrroww?" This time the cat minced out from under a new Chevy. "Mrrow? Proow?" This cat sure did like people. I stood in the open door of the truck, trying to decide what to do. It was rainy and cold, and I had ten pounds of cheap dry-kibble cat food in the truck. Where could I pour some of it so this poor kitty could eat, and where the food wouldn't get all rain-soaked and soggy? The cat didn't look like it was starving; after all, it was standing near the Awesome Methodist College dorms, and I imagined the students had been feeding it with their dining-hall leftovers. No ribs to be seen on this cat; could it be someone's kitty who'd gotten out? It wasn't wearing a collar, and its ears weren't clipped in the spayed-feral style. I thought of the owner who might be at home searching frantically for her cat, or explaining to a tearful small child that Butterscotch-Marmalade-Mango was missing and might not come back. I'd want someone to pick up my cat if it were lost, I thought.

The truck door was still open, and the upholstery was getting wetter by the second. I made the International Kissy Noise to the cat, and it came closer. "Hi!" I said. "Who are you? Are you somebody's kitty?" The cat meowed and purred loudly, letting me scratch its ears. I lifted its tail: female.

"You wanna go home wif me?" I asked. "Hmm? You wanna go home 'til I can find your people?" The cat meowed again, looking into the truck, and then looking back at me. Students getting out of their cars and walking to the dorms were starting to eye me strangely. "Well, kitty? Tum on, big girl. Hop in. Hop in!" The cat put a careful front paw on the door jamb, then put it back on the ground and looked at me again.

I picked her up and set her gently in the passenger seat, hopped back in, and carefully drove out of the AMC parking lot with the cat precariously perched half on my shoulder and half on the back of the seat.


She only meowed once, and purred nervously most of the drive home.

Once I got her into the spare bedroom and got her some food, she stuck her head in the bowl and didn't stop eating for ten solid minutes. She drank a little water, then went right back to eating. I came back 15 minutes later with a litter box and fresh litter, and the kitty was snuggled on the bed (above), as if she belonged there. She meowed a hello and came to ram her head into my lower leg, which you probably recognize as the International Cat Greeting.

I'm putting together flyers to go around the AMC campus and surrounding neighborhood, but my guess is that she was in heat or pregnant and someone put her out. A vet check-up is in order next, to see if she's pregnant and how far along she is. I hope she's someone's cat, but if need be, she has a home here at the Happy Kitten Cottage until...whenever.

Student Essay Insanity #19!

These are ALL from various students' Regents' Exam practice essays.

The prompt: "What do you think are the major causes of divorce?"
Honesty is the final cause of divorce.

Same topic, different student:
Monogamy is an act that is on the decline in America.

What's up with this divorce prompt bringing on so many crazy sentences? A third student, same prompt:
In the United States, divorces are ranked number one, over sexually transmitted diseases and military people.

This sentence's prompt: "Have you ever had a boss you particularly admired or one you particularly disliked? Discuss."
The thing I regret most about my interaction with Mr. ------ is that I did not go upside his head a couple of times with my fist.

Lastly, this one's from the prompt "Why, in your opinion, do so many people have pets?"
Another reason people have pets are for protection. They don't want to see anyone hurt their owner.

I await your snarky comments, O Readers...

Crummy Church Signs Release Party TODAY!

Please pardon the interruption here on E&P while I plug my friend Joel's new book—the proceeds from which will all be donated to charity!

Today, a new book release from Humor-Blogs.com, Crummy Church Signs Volume 1 (2004 - 2007). Taken as a "Best of..." from the popular Crummy Church Signs website, this book includes pictures of some of the worst church signs you'll ever see (poor grammar, bad theology, silly jokes, etc) along with the author's hilariously snarky commentary!

The best part is...I (Miss Kitty) am in the book! A picture I submitted was used in there, so if the side-splitting content isn't enough to convince you to buy a copy, perhaps the inclusion of Yours Truly will tip the scales for you. For a limited time only, the book is $10.99 with free shipping, and the author will autograph it! After Nov. 6, the price will rise to $12.99 plus shipping (and no autograph), so be sure to place your order now. VISIT THE HUMOR-BLOGS.COM STORE NOW and place your order! The book is 178 coffee-table sized pages, and contains church signs from over 35 states and several different countries. In case my word isn't enough, see what these other folks have said about Crummy Church Signs :

"There's an enormous amount of amusing material in there" -ThinkChristian.net

"Seriously, I think Crummy Church Signs has the highest laugh-to-word-count ratio of any site I've come across" -Diesel from Mattress Police , author of Antisocial Commentary

"...try not to laugh until you cry." - Ironic Catholic

"Whenever I am tempted towards the cute in formulating a message for our church sign, I find myself asking. 'What Would Joel Say?' His blog provides great entertainment, but more importantly it provides a reminder that the message is an important one." - Rev. Wes Kenney

The author, Joel Bezaire, is also donating ALL of his proceeds to Compassion, a charitable organization that places underpriveleged kids with sponsors around the world. So not only will you enjoy the book, some of that money is going to a great cause!

Buy the book! Visit the website!

We now return to our regularly scheduled programming.

Whew.

Sorry for the lack of posts—much activity here lately. I'm dealing with wrap-ups for my Regents' Exam remedial classes and am conferencing with Comp II students on both regular papers and research papers. And I'm getting together a paper proposal for a spring conference.

But I'll have more this week; blogging keeps me sane, and I appreciate all of you who read this tiny little corner of the blogosphere.

Works in progress on one's C.V.?

I'm updating my curriculum vitae (C.V.), which is a fancy Latin term for "college professor's resume." Along with the list of papers I've published and presented, should I list the book I've been writing (on and off) for the last year? If so, how? I'm only in the preliminary stages of writing it, and have not yet spoken with a publisher or agent. Your advice here is most welcome.

The reason I'm updating the C.V. is that my full-time D2U position is only temporary—just for one ten-month contract. The department is looking to fill a similar position permanently, though, so the ad has gone out state-wide for new hires. I will have some very stiff competition this time. It helps to know that D2U will still keep me on if I go back to part-time, but I don't at all relish the prospect of going back to working four jobs. Part-time pay simply isn't enough to just have one job.

Another update soon on today's afternoon Comp II class—they may not yet be a total loss.

In which I barely refrain from strangling my students

Ahh, we're freshly back from Fall Break, and the shit hasn't so much hit the fan as dribbled down the backs of our collective academic legs.

My afternoon Comp II class is a weird one. The class has a strange mix of personalities, and while that usually makes for an interesting semester/course, it has most decidedly not been the case for this class. This group is the one that gives me stomach cramps when I think about the day's lecture and discussion; it is this group which will defy all logic and have nothing to say about even the most interesting poem, play, or story. This group will most likely read O'Connor's "A Good Man is Hard to Find" and stare blankly off into space. Yep.

In the front two rows of the room are a few students who were in my Comp I classes, and a few newer students. They may not be the best writers, but they usually have something to contribute to the discussion. Even when they're completely confused by a work, they'll at least ask questions. The back rows are filled with people who either don't care and are simply here to fulfill their core curriculum English requirement, or who are fairly good students, but who never speak up for one weird reason or another. The first eight weeks of the semester have been like pulling teeth trying to get someone other than the usual six contributors to speak up.

One student from this afternoon class came in this afternoon for help on her paper. Nellie* is a great student, quiet in class but full of great insights when I call on her. She's one of those in the back row for whom I hold out a little hope. Her paper was pretty good even for a second draft, and we talked for about ten minutes about some changes Nellie* could make. And somehow—I know not how—we got onto the topic of how strange that afternoon class is. "Yeah," she chuckled, "it's such a weird mix of personalities in there that it's hard to know who's going to say what about a poem."

"True," I replied. "I have a tough time figuring out what to talk about and when."

"The funny thing," Nellie said, "is how many people have been complaining about the things we're talking about. The're always saying, 'What does this have to do with literature?'"

"They are?" I asked. "Do you mean they're wondering about some of the funny tangents we sometimes veer onto in class discussions?" It's true that sometimes my classes get off on very strange extraneous discussions, but I try to wrench it back to literature every time.

"I guess," she replied. "But I think it's more that they're mad that nobody's really getting into the critical-reading details of the stuff we're reading."

I was starting to get pissed. This was the same bump-on-a-log group who sat in the back of the room wordlessly EVERY SINGLE CLASS. A bomb could go off in the hall, and these 17 people would just sit there and readjust the boogers in their noses.

"Funny, Nellie, that nobody except YOU has had the guts to say anything about it." A worried look crossed her face. "No, you're not in trouble. You've done me a favor by telling me this. I wonder why, if they really want to get into the critical element of the readings, nobody's stepping up to offer his or her opinions? Why haven't they come to me with their concerns?" I thought for a minute. "Do you have any suggestions as to how I might improve the class?"

"Well..." She thought for a minute. "Maybe you could move us into different seats in the room, and move the talkers around with the non-talkers. Maybe having an opinionated person in a bunch of shy people would help them break out of their shells—you know, like putting Jenny* [smart, a talker] next to Bobby* [chronically sleepy]."

"Hmmmm." I was trying not to be angry at the class, but I couldn't help it. True, Nellie* had brought me some insight that I might not have had otherwise, but the class's lack of initiative was infuriating. "Well, I don't know what Wednesday will bring, but I can assure you things'll be different," I told her. "And I'm glad you said something; you've done me a HUGE favor." I asked her to work on her paper some more and bring it back on Thursday.

Right now, I am FAR too angry at this dipshit bunch of "13th graders" to talk to them rationally about their dipshittedness. I don't want to give away Nellie's identity during a speech to the class—I'm glad she said what she did. And we've already had one "come to Jesus" talk this semester, in which I let everyone know that it would never be a rewarding classroom experience if only the same six people spoke up every time I asked a question. Evidently, it didn't sink in.

I'm sick and tired of this petty, I-don't-really-want-to-have-to-think bullshit. And I want to ream this class a new collective asshole.

Maybe you readers can tell me whether these discussion questions are too juvenile. We just finished covering Lorraine Hansberry's classic play A Raisin in the Sun, and here are some things I asked students to consider, along with a bunch of my own discussion questions. We had a LOT to talk about...or so I thought. Maybe I should've extended the discussion one more day and talked about society's "castration" of the black male, and how Walter Lee mistakenly blames his failed dreams on the women in his life. Would that have helped? Or is this class simply a lost cause? Funny how the other three sections of this course seem to be going pretty well.

Why don't they simply speak up and offer their own sophisticated ideas about the works in question? Or are they expecting me to give them the "right" interpretation? That would be the easy route, like high school, and they're out of their fucking minds if they think I'm going to do that.

Any tips on how I conduct class tomorrow? How I conduct class for the next eight weeks? If I could, I'd give the entire class F's for the semester. Fail 'em all, let God sort 'em out.

I could wring every one of their puny little necks. No matter what anyone says: college is not for wimps.

Home in one piece

Arrived home Sunday evening, very tired and sorry to have to come home after an awesome Fall Break at my sister's house. Next time I visit Denver will be Spring Break 2008, when I can stay a week. (Poor Mile High Guy.)

I'll post interesting stuff again soon—just have to recover first!

My niece!

Here's Squaddy (Madeleine) asking Mama for yet another helping of food this morning. Cat weighs 12.6 pounds and is on a serious diet. "No, kitteh."

My sister and I had a great time today—hit Sephora in Boulder, along with many other places. If you're in Denver, have dinner at Lime (in Larimer Square area)...the Mexican and Mexican-inspired food is heavenly. We had ahi tuna tacos and the Scorpion Plate (cheese-and-jalapeno-stuffed jumbo shrimp, deep fried and artfully placed on a bed of red chile sauce). Heavenly.

In Denver!

I am visiting my sister for a few days, but I'll still be posting. Today was a lot of fun; we went to the spa and splurged on massages/pedicures, then had a great dinner at a place called Lime (downtown Denver). More excitement tomorrow—and pictures!

Without meaning to take a page from another blogger's book...

...I did it anyway. Angry Professor at Gentleman's C has up today the hilarious-yet-sad shenanigan at the Library Reserve Desk. I love pointless student e-mails, don't you?

All students at Georgia four-year colleges are required to take the Regents' Exam before they're allowed to graduate. It's a dumb test which is outdated, pointless—some would even say racist or classist—and a huge burden to the institutions and to the state. The people who administer this exam shriek like banshees whenever talk arises of discontinuing Regents' testing. I've graded the Regents' for three years now, and have taught the remedial Regents' Essay class for two. I get some real doozies in there: students who simply have such awful test anxiety that they can't even write a corny 60-minute, five-paragraph essay; students with severe (and often undiagnosed) learning disabilities; students with serious psychiatric problems; students for whom the connection between speaking and writing has never been very strong. The list goes on and on, and is probably best saved for a separate post.

Nobody gets his or her diploma from ANY public Georgia four-year college until he/she passes the Regents'. After failing the Regents' one time (or transferring in from another college), students are required to take my remedial class. They take the exam again, and again, and again until they pass. One student here at D2U is on her 23rd attempt at the Regents'.

Most students come to these remedial classes religiously. They want more than anything to pass and get their diplomas, and they often seek me out for extra help during office hours and between classes. But once in a while, I get a bonehead who just doesn't think he/she has to attend class. These boneheads ignore the procedures for getting qualified to re-take the Regents' Exam, yet become irate and threaten violence when they're turned away at the testing center on the appointed day. (No, really. I've seen it happen. Very frightening to have to call Campus Police to the site of a stupid standardized test.)

I have already dropped with a WF ("withdrawn/failing") almost all of my slacker students. But I have 75 of these Regents' students, and sometimes it's HARD to keep up with who's who and when they last showed up. I looked Monday asfternoon at one student's name on the roll: "Hmmm. Better drop her. I haven't seen her in...well, hell, she's never been to class." I felt silly for having not noticed, but circled her name and made myself a note to drop her during my morning break.

Lo and behold, when I got back to my office, I found this e-mail awaiting me:
Hi My name is _________ this is the first time this has happend to me when I registerd for my regents classes they both came up for the same day when I questioned this they said it was supposed to look like this so I have never attended your class or even noticed it was a seperate class until now. I know it is to late to do anything about this class wise.I do now that I will not be prepared for the writing part of the regents test what else will happen? Will this be grade to show on my midterm or was I droppes for never comming

My reply:
You have been dropped as a no-show.

I was too stunned at the students' lack of awareness to write anything more. And with NO remedial help this semester, indeed this student will NOT be prepared for the essay part of the exam.

Sheesh.

D2U Mama Cat has a forever home!

The mother cat whom I found at D2U this summer—forever known on her vet records, rather uncreatively, as Mama Cat—went to her permanent home this evening. D2U Health Clinic nurse Billie* met me in the parking lot and picked up the sweetly-meowing tortie girl, who's put on almost two pounds in the last nine weeks. "She's beautiful!" Billie sighed as Mama Cat pawed at her through the carrier door. "Her fur's all shiny, and grown back in! Ohh, you're such a pretty girl!" she cooed.

Cat-rescue success sure feels good.

Back in one piece

Thanks for all your kind comments and good-luck wishes. I made it home safely on Sunday, very glad I had attended the conference. I met some great people and made some contacts for future collaborations. And I got out of town for a few days, which was nice.

I didn't have much time to take pictures, but that might not altogether be a bad thing—the conference was in a distinctly recognizable part of the country, and I'm not too comfortable (yet) with someone "outing" me by looking up any literary conferences in these environs.

But I did find this by the hotel pool. Notice anything strange?



Thankfully, the pool was closed for the season. Don't eat the yellow snow! Or dive into the yellow water!

Once I got safely back to Small Town, I felt like it was time for a treat. So I headed over to my favorite local BBQ joint, where I saw this:



That forklift driver's got stainless-steel balls, riding with all those bikers.

It's good to be home. The kitties missed me, as did Myrtle Mae. And I missed them, too.

Success!

My paper/presentation at the conference went very well, and I got many compliments and suggestions for improvement/new directions on my work. I've met great people here, and although I'm tired as hell, it's all been worth it. Many thanks to my sister for her help in turning my sow's ear into a silk purse.



My late father would have been 61 today. It made me feel good to remember him today and know he would have been so proud to see me give that paper today. He's smiling now, I'm sure.

The proverbial headless...

...you-know-what.

As a chicken Mama, I didn't want you to worry that something had happened to Myrtle Mae. She's just fine and dandy, snoozing on the handrail of the back patio as I type.

Posting will be sporadic—still working on this damn paper and teaching my full load, as usual.

Thanks for your support and encouragement, E&P readers. Your comments have given me many needed laughs over the last few days.