Yesterday, I gave my one and only Christmas exam.
CRIM 2103: Introduction to Qualitative Research Methods in Criminology.
I know how students feel about writing exams.
Because I remember very clearly how I felt about taking them.
In fact, when I wrote the exam for the Sociology equivalent of this course, at Christmas time no less, I was 8 months pregnant for Emily.
The exam was held in the Ted Daigle auditorium.
But not the TD auditorium you currently know and love.
The 1.0 version. . .complete with teeny tiny postage stamp sized desks made for women who were no more than a size 2 and wooden seats.
If memory serves, I wrote the exam sitting in one seat and using the table beside me.
Because MY little postage stamp sized table rested at an almost 90 degree angle when resting against the ever growing Emily.
By far it was the most uncomfortable exam I ever had to sit through.
So uncomfortable that I actually left without finishing it.
Afterwards, the professor asked why I didn't write at a normal sized desk on the stage.
A caring and wonderful thought.
But I was already feeling like the Grand Spectacle and didn't think a stage presence would make me feel any better about being, at that time, the only pregnant woman on campus, who already had two children, no husband and more issues than Playboy magazine.
My grade for the course was a B.
Now I teach this course.
So, while sitting in a class room with table and chairs, watching my students write their exam, it was hard to for me to feel a lot of sympathy for their plight.
And I saw a lot of plight stricken faces struggling to figure out how the hell to write this exam.
Which was odd considering I told them that everything, both theoretical and practical would be on the exam.
But at least none of them were 8 months pregnant.
Unless someone was hiding something.
I actually don't like giving exams.
And I sure as hell don't like marking them.
But I've yet to figure out a better way.
I sit there, watching the students.
I eat.
Drink tea.
Am bored out of my skull.
I did some marking yesterday, but I find it hard to concentrate.
So imagine my happiness when I was able to leave, return home, and bask in the glory of being nestled at my kitchen table, laptop in front of me, all my missed tv programes queued and ready for watching, papers stacked practically to the ceiling. . . .
And then the phone rang.
My brother, in an obvious state of upset.
My brother had two beautiful dogs, Namaste
Geronimo.
Geronimo took it upon himself yesterday to see what would happen if you were to chew through an extension cord.
A jolt of electricity is what happened.
He electrocuted himself.
And, naturally, experienced the requisite repercussions.
My brother provides all the details here:
http://really-deep-rest.blogspot.com/2010/12/shocking-isnt-it.html?spref=fb
And remember, he is currently carless.
Stephen and I make the usual hour drive in 45 minutes.
Me, I sit in the passenger seat.
Again.
But, once sure we were headed in the right direction, I promptly put the seat back, my Ontario purchased car pillow behind my head, and fell asleep, only to wake up when we were practically pulling into my brother's driveway.
Now that is a road trip.
The Goddess of Good Luck, who thus far hasn't even been aware of my brother's existence, or so it would seem, shined upon him, for the moment we walked into his front door, it was clear that Geronimo had come out of his state shock in one peice.
Jumping, peeing, pooping, kissing Mummy Dawne. . .all was right with the world.
And Namaste was just as excited to see us. . .I never thought there would be a dog who kissed more than Jer and Kat's dear Mouin (RIP baby girl) but Nam is may actually have surpassed Moo.
As all was, very thankfully, well in the canine world, Stephen took Jer for supplies, including a new extension cord, and I remained with the poochies for some long overdue Mummy Dawne lovin'.
You can only imagine the reaction of my two canine companions when we arrived home.
Frankie sniffed, and sniffed some more, and then gave me a look that could only possibly say one thing:
You tramp!!!!!! You harlot!!!!!!!! What are their names!!!!!!!!!????????
Tikka, on the other hand, sniffed me up and down and looked at me as if to say, "How's Uncle and when is he coming to visit me????
Again, I was forbidden from driving home, but as it was still light out when we left, it would seem that my calm, serene, gentle, and always-oh-so-careful Stephen John may have a touch of rural road race car driver in him.
He was careening through these rural roads, making race car driver turns. . .
I was amazed, shocked, somewhat terrified, and awestruck all at the same time.
Who knew?
Which makes me wonder what other deep, dark secrets, passions even (rawrrrr) lurk beneath that Clark Kent facade.
By the time we arrived home and were subjected to the canine version of the US airport pat down, had supper (salad and chicken breast. .so not the heroes welcome home dinner of pizza I was pining for) I had nothing left.
Nada.
Brandy and Billy the Exterminator was all I was able to manage until I felt it was a respectable time to go to bed.
8.00 pm.
And now, here I sit, another day, the same ceiling high pile of marking waiting for me, watching Em eat her breakfast cereal while Reilley sits beside her watching every spoonful of milk and cereal move from bowl to mouth, waiting for the opportune moment to stick hit feet into her bowl, as Em pines for her cell phone.
Hoping that some kind hearted high school student returned it to the office.
And if not, wondering where she'll get the money for a new phone.
All things being equal, I am hoping that the only eventful thing that happens today is me sitting at the kitchen table marking all day while yelling at Stephen to sit here and mark with me.
Cause misery loves company.
Or, when I take all the exams and papers outside on the street and light them aflame with my neighbour's blow torch.
Title Lyric: Electrocution by Nada Surf
No comments:
Post a Comment