Last Monday as I drove to work for the first day of school, I flipped through radio stations hoping to find a song that might serve as a good omen for the year. The soft adult contemporary station was playing Rod Stewart’s “Forever Young.” Hmmm…nope. The classic rock station was playing The Who’s “Baba O’Riley;” you know, the one that goes, “It’s only teenage wasteland.” Heh heh. Nice.
But a couple of days later the same station was playing “School’s Out For Summer.” Really, classic rock station? On the third day of school? That’s just mean.
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My class sizes are pretty bad, just like every one else’s. My smallest class has 36. I have two classes at 45. At least I don’t teach freshmen. Thanks, budget cuts!
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In one of the sections of English 101 that I have two nights a week at UNLV, I saw a familiar face. Turns out he’s a kid I had his first year in high school, four years ago. I guess he wasn’t looking forward to another year with me: he dropped the class the next day. I’ll try not to take that one personally!
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I got a lot of traffic for a post I wrote last week about my teaching resolutions for the new year. I forgot a very important one: never again will I ever refer to a student aide as “yon servant wench.” Apparently, nobody thinks this is funny except me. But now who will fetch me flagons of grog?
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I usually get a sore throat by the end of the first week, but this year I got it by day two. Not a good sign. Must be getting old. I feel much better after the weekend, so we’ll see how it goes today. I look forward to my annual cold by the end of the month. It’s a cruel twist of fate that my easiest month of the year–August–tends to be followed by my hardest–September.
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We went to a football game Friday, which was fun, except it was hot and there were teenagers there. I forgot, that’s why I never see popular movies on opening night, too. We moved to the very edge of the stands, where it was much cooler and there was a lot less cussing. I noticed the visitor side, which was sedate and comfortable. The next time we see a football game, it will be when we’re the visiting team!
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At the end of the fist week every year, I have every student write a letter about themselves, their goals and opinions for the year, and I seal it up and lock it in a drawer until the last week of school. No matter how much I tell girls not to write that they’ll be with their boyfriends forever, most do, and they end up laughing or crying when they get the letter back in June. This is also a good illustration of transiency around here. Though some kids remember to ask for their letters when they move, most of us forget these for most of the year, and even though I try to track down the kids who are still at our school but in different classes, every June I end up throwing away at least two dozen letters, and a good fourth of the class in June won’t get a letter because they weren’t here the first week of school. Way to be stable, Mom and Dad!
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I’ve only scared three kids out of my honors class so far. Must. Try. Harder.
I picked up Midnight from a library shelf a couple years ago at random and absolutely loved it. I’ve started a couple of other Dean Koontz books since then, but nothing has been nearly as good, and I haven’t bothered finishing them. But I decided to end my summer with a fun, easy, puffball of a book, and I picked up Watchers. 
