Thursday II

Now the good stuff.

My Comp II students are kicking ass and taking names. I can't believe it. I don't know what's gotten into them, but they have taken this assignment and run with it. I've gotten the hell out of their way. I just read an epiphany rough draft from a student about the time she realized that not only was she adopted but that her birth mother has cancer. I read another about a student writing about the death of her childhood pet and her imagery is masterful. Even my pain in the ass student, who decided to show up today after missing the past two, is working. Well, somewhat. He asked what our second theme was on. I explained to him what a rite of passage was and I was about to explain what an epiphany was when he said, "I got it. I know exactly what I'm going to write about." Then he was off. Of course, when I check on him, he is mostly on the internet looking at stuff on ebay for his truck. I scold him. He goes back to work. I go back in the lab. He's back on ebay. Is it worth freaking out on him and making a scene? No way. If he doesn't want to work, he can fail. It's his loss.

I just got back from reading the conclusion to the student's adoption essay. How great is it to have a student not only ask me for my suggestion about how to improve her paper? Then how great is it to have her ask me to re-read her conclusion to see if it's better? She genuinely cares about her topic and getting it right. I know this is trivial. But in the grand scheme of teaching and learning, it's not trivial at all.

Now I just got back from helping Jack work on dialogue in his essay. Again, it's trivial. But this is the stuff I love about teaching.

*****

Last night as I was coming home I noticed a large bird swooping down in a field off to my passenger's side. When I looked, I saw an eagle perched over what was left of a deer or raccoon carcass. A hawk or other bird was trying to land and have a helping too. But the eagle was looking pretty intent on eating its fill.

But then I zoomed past the scene, missing the outcome. When I got home, I grabbed Koko and our camera and headed back out. The picture didn't really turn out, so I didn't post it, but the hawk (however it managed it) was now dining on the carcass.

I still regret missing out on getting some pictures of the wild turkeys that were in the same field.

But the best part of the little excursion was Koko. She had just returned from two days at her father's. So she had a lot to fill me in on. As we were passing the local Ford dealership on our way out of town, I told her that they had closed down - just to get her reaction (this is a girl who is absolutely fascinated by the gas prices. As we drove by Eagle Square, I saw her peek up at the billboard and exclaim, "Ugh. They're up again!"). She scanned the empty Ford lot and quiet building. Then she said so matter of factly that I couldn't help but chuckle, "Maybe they'll get a bowling alley and movie theater. You know, make it a multiplex."

Then as we were coming back from getting pictures of the hawk, I asked her about what she thought of Crazy Horse and Mount Rushmore. She told me what she bought for herself and for her cousin. I said, "What, you didn't get me anything?"

Koko replied, equally as matter of factly as she was trying to capture pictures of the world whizzing by the car, "Just my love and acceptance."

Now how priceless is that?