You know the dream. You show up at a familiar place and all the wrong people are there. Or you can't find the room that you are supposed to be in. Or when you think you have found the room, you discover that it is actually the women's bathroom. Or you finally arrive at the correct room and you have left your jock at home, or worse your whole hockey bag. Or you have every binder but the one that you actually need. Or all of your pens are out of ink and your pencils are so dull that babies can safely play with them.
Needless to say, I have been handing in hundreds of blank pages instead of essays in my dreams recently. I have also been planting trees without a shovel, in the wrong place; the same tree over and over and over again.
Whew, my day schedule of discussing a plagiarized essay with one of my students, helping another student turn his popular history work into an academic essay, sitting for two hours in a program direction meeting, attending a class to discuss several hundred pages of reading and taking out the garbage is far less tiring than a good night's sleep, by comparison.
And at least in the day time I am usually wearing pants.
That's all for now, I have some essays to finish up. And I better get them done before night fall or I will either turn into a pumpkin or I will be typing them on a 1980's typewriter which makes És instead of ?s and è's instead of 's, using napkins with ketchup on them for paper, and wearing only boxer shorts in my sleep tonight.
Tot ziens
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