Heavy Mental

Posted on March 8, 2012Filed Under Las Vegas, Me, Stories of Seventh Grade | Leave a Comment

I’m supposed to be getting ready for my trip to Vegas. My dad is turning 75, and he’s taking his four sons to Vegas. (Yes, I know; my poor mom.) We’re going to a place that lets you operate those big excavators for a few hours, and dig holes and drive around and such. I’m picturing some jousting, with the buckets clanging. We’re also going to drive go-karts that go very fast and go to the Pinball Hall of Fame. It’s going to be a blast, but I’m missing the first three days of next week, and as you all know, it’s much harder to be gone than it is to be there. And three days? I’ve been lagging on everything (like reading Giver projects and Perfect Papers) trying to write everything down and remember every little bit of  THE ROUTINE. Warm ups in order for three days? Keys so even the gluiest sub can walk them through it? Explaining how to check homework and books and vocabulary exemptions?  LCD projector and computer? Clickers? Keeping the servant busy for three days? Reading Tom Sawyer with them? I’m a little discombobulated. OMG…what about the video class? (I’m locking up the expensive cameras and making them work on editing  the whole time or  Flipcams or on a decent script.)

Speaking of  Tom SawyerAfter a year off, I decided to bring Tom Sawyer back to the class. I also revived the wiki and Moodle. The Moodle is off to a strong start (part of that is that I count work on the wiki/Moodle toward their 600 words/week), but much of the attraction is the open chat room I set up so they could talk while they’re online. Maybe at a later date I will post some of the chat logs… they’re pretty funny even without autocorrect. They also forget that they are being logged. A couple of times in the past I have displayed in class the chat logs from the night before. Oh the horrified looks. I have had to send one or two to the admins, but mostly it’s like that Far Side cartoon where the professor makes a dog-bark translator, and it turns out that all dogs are just saying, “Hey!” Only with this crew it’s also yo, sup, he (I think that was a misspelled hey), my peeps, or variations/combinations of the above.

I told them that I set this up also so I could keep tabs on them from Vegas. D’oh!

Anyway, that’s what I’ve been doing all week. I haven’t even had time to tell you about the girl who wrote in her “Perfect” Paper about how she loves all kinds of music, except…

“Kat? When there’s a word with a short a sound like rat, and you add an e to it, what happens?”

“It’s a long a.”

“So you get the word…?”

“Rate!”

“So I hope that it’s a spell-check thing, and that the kind of music you don’t like, and that your dad thinks is nasty is called rap. Right? Not rap with an e.”

Wait a beat. Two.

There it is.

Still not quite the best typo ever. But a fine one.

My wife sent be this one last week. I think it fits here too.

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