Hallowe’en

Last year, you may remember that Trick or Treat reached almost epiphanic proportions around here when the most common costume was that of then-candidate, now-President Obama. And the sea change that seemed to foretell has indeed come… whatever your politics, it is true that no one can ever again say, “Oh, the US isn’t ready for a black president.” No black child will ever again grow up believing that to be true. And if you think that, in and of itself, isn’t something to celebrate… if you can’t put aside the politics of the thing long enough to be glad for that… well, you might want to ask yourself some difficult questions about your own feelings on race. I’m just saying.

I don’t expect this year to have the same dramatic impact. I imagine we’re mostly back to Princesses and Superheros around here, with a few Transformers and a WVU football player or two mixed in for good measure. I’ve bought nasty, nasty candy this year in the hope that we won’t eat any of it: Milk Duds, Starburst Sour Gummies, and Crabby Patties. The last look like burgers for GI Joe to me. It already hasn’t worked. I’ve had two fun size boxes of Milk Duds since I did the shopping yesterday. All I can say is that the count would be much higher if I had bought Snickers bars and Reese’s Cups like last year.

So, come knock on our door and hold out your bag! We’ll be here.

Back to Blogging…

There are several really good reasons to stop blogging. It bores you. It bores other people. It interferes with your cocktail hour. You fail to let it interfere with your cocktail hour and accidentally post the one thing you promised your mother you would never, ever write about.

Or, you start teaching Freshman Composition.

Here is the thing about teaching Freshman Comp. The students–who cannot themselves spell, use punctuation correctly, or write a thesis statement–have the uncanny ability to identiy every little grammatical error and rhetorical flaw in an instructor’s blog. They will print out blog posts and bring them to class with things circled in red pen. Sometimes, the circles will have been drawn by their great aunts who taught English for a thousand years in one room school houses on the prairie and sent each and every one of their students on to Harvard.

They will also read about your picking up a homeless guy and giving him a ride back to town or stealing the neighbor’s berries and assume you are much, much more cool than you actually are, so you will be a great disappointment to them. But, then again, you were going to be that no matter what you did.

Anyway… next semester I am moving on to teach English 102, where the students are both too hung over and too jaded to even check my rankings on RateMyProfessor.com, much less correct my grammar. So I’m back!

Peace!

Sarah