Prince

Hank vs. Prince. (Also: “Lean meat?”)

October 1, 2009
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Hank vs. Prince. (Also: “Lean meat?”)

Most of the classes finished the pivotal chapter 4 today. We listened to Hank Williams sing “Why Don’t You Love Me Like You Used to Do?” My Hank bobblehead rocked, even headbangin’ a little. Most of the kids squirmed and looked at each other nervously. “Pony feels the same way.” I did have a few cowgirls confess to me on the way out the door that they liked it. Why Don’t You Love Me Like You Used to Do? Hank gets mentioned three times in chapter 4. In Pony’s description of Buck Merrill, he says that Buck is “out of it…He dug Hank Williams. How gross can you get?” Then Dally adds a few choice adjectives after “Hank Williams.” That always draws a laugh, now that most of them know what an adjective is. And then Pony says that the farmer he asks for directions from sounds “as corn-poney as Hank Williams.” One of the questions on tomorrow’s test is: The early death of Hank Williams was a great loss to the music world.  a) True  b) False They had better get it right. We also rocked out to some Prince. One of

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Best Faux Pas Ever. (Glad it wasn’t me.)

(Friday Flashback – Last Year) “Mrs. G” has been teaching in our district for over 40 years. She’s been at our school since it opened in 1980. She’s taught English, art, social studies, music, and much more. She is literally an immovable object, and doesn’t need to rise from her chair to strike fear (well, not exactly fear any more, but…) into 8th graders’ hearts. She doesn’t care what people (parents, admins, other teachers) think of her, and speaks her mind whether it’s “appropriate” or not. She currently teaches 8th grade US history, and has been going toe to toe with a particularly pesky student I had last year. Now, this “Steve” sends me e-mails about how the posts he’s reading in the discussion forums on our Moodle don’t have enough thought behind them, and he has a real brain. But he’s a loud-mouthed pain in the rear, whose parents it seems, are wrapped around his finger. I was probably the only teacher he got along with…until Mrs. G. He’s still a pain, and though, like me she recognizes and likes the Steve underneath, she’s not afeared of giving what she gets. So… Food is not allowed in our classooms. [...]

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Mr. Coward has been teaching on the beautiful central coast of California since 1989.

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