That's "Mr." to you...

If anyone still reads this blog, you've probably had enough of my modern poetries and obscure book recommendations (and quite rightly so) for the time being. As such, I have "arranged a new feast for you" this evenin', as the Old Man and the Sea might have said. Note: I have never read "The Old Man" but I'm quite confident he would never have said any such thing...unless they made a movie out of it, in which case he probably *did* say those very words.

I have told you nothing of my job as a teacher. For shame. It is a lovely job - a difficult job at times, of course, but as rewarding as a prize pig at the county fair (and much more agreeable than both the pig and the fair, combined).

I see myself in so many of the students...and wonder at those others who periodically find it fashionable to make D+s on my reading quizzes. "You'll never get through to all of them," some people will remind me. But what about Milton? Surely John Milton should get through to more than half of them....right? Apparently not. But I suppose that's nothing to fret - I was never really huge on Milton myself.

I teach with a stick, to begin with - and that for beating the children whenever they misbehave. Fortunately, none of them have, so the stick only serves as 1) a pointer, 2) a very poor walking stick, 3) a twirling object in times of boredom, and 4) a very effective means of bringing any idlers back into focus (a simple whack on the desk usually does the trick).

I also go by "Mr. Halbrooks" now, which is as bewildering to me every time I hear it as it is to my students, who still don't quite know how to pronounce it properly. I think I forgot the bit on the first day of class where the teacher is supposed to write his name on the board and sound it out for one and all. A few of them insist on calling me "Professor Plum", too, which is equally shocking.

As for class itself, well, here are a few stories...

a. The first quiz I ever gave was on Beowulf, which my Brit Lit childrens were supposed to read over the summer. This would not have been a memorable story, I must admit, if all of the student *had* actually read it over the summer. One of the questions was a quotation identification: Who said "thus and such"? Now (I told them), I realize the book is full of names like "Wiglaf" and "Hrothgar" and other names that are as hard to remember as they are to spell, so you don't have to remember the guy's actual name - just tell me who he is....like "It's the king talking to Beowulf's brother right before he fights the swamp creatures..." or something along those lines. Got it? Good. And they did get it - except for three of them. Beowulf's brother is not, in fact, an actual character in the poem. He's not even mentioned in passing. But that was certainly not enough to stop three of my kids from answering, for number 3, "Beowulf's brother." One of them elaborated even further: "Beowulf's brother right before he fights the swamp creatures." Merciful heavens.

b. One of my other classes, in our discussion of "The Voyage of the Dawn Treader" said, and I quote, "I hated Reepicheep." I was speechless - I didn't even know that was possible. To date, I have not recovered from that one.

c.

Me: After reading Frankenstein, were y'all surprised at all by it's depth, or did it still come across as just a thrilling horror story?
10th Grader: I was surprised. It was actually really good. And deep.
Me: Good! Well, what do you think we can take away from it, then? Any universal messages?
10th Grader: Yeah, I think the main point was that - if we try and create human beings ourselves, things will go horribly wrong and he'll end up destroying everybody and everything. So we shouldn't try that.
Me: Oh. I see...