I’ve been asked to write my opinions about a number of pedagogical matters, fifteen pages max. I’m down to twenty-seven. They should’ve just asked me to give my opinion in person, I would’ve just shrugged and said, “Ah… you know.” But no, they asked me to write, and to write about matters I’m angry about. How the hell did I get to twenty-seven pages?
I just flashed back to first grade… my reading group was assigned to read the first half of a particular short story. I read the whole thing, and blurted out the ending without thinking (it had something to do with kids thinking a house was haunted; it was actually a bird–oops, ruined it again). Miss Tammany gave me a look that I have no doubt mimicked many a time in my career, and resignedly banished me from the reading area. @#^$*.
Now I’m flashing back to post-graduate Clemson life… coming home from work, my goofy Muppetish roommate and his pals watching a movie. I ask what movie, they answer Event Horizon. Without thinking, I asked, “Is that the one where the ship goes to hell?” The collective groan was so awesome it washed away any guilt I felt over having ruined the ending.
Not necessarily a logical thought process, but I got less than two hours of sleep last night. Cut me some slack. I’ll post parts of my pedagogical rant when I finish it.