This is what I want to do over spring break. The asters and money plant won’t be ready to be planted for a while yet, but this is exactly the right time to be planting cool weather crops like radishes and lettuce and peas. The sweet peas are actually an ornamental variety with lovely, ruffly flowers in bright and pastel shades of pink, orangey-yellow, and blue purples. I have a packet of regular, edible peas that I think I’m going to plant too. The zuchini will have to wait for warmer weather. Plus, Johnsy made me swear not to plant more than two or three hills of it. Although last night I did tell Mai that I would probably forget to pick them when they’re young and tender, and then have to make stealth runs over to her apartment in the middle of the night to leave baseball bat sized zuchinis on her doorstep. But I figure that’s a rite of passage for the up-and-coming vegetable gardener.
Remember the first time you ever pulled an all-nighter? That’s kindof a rite of passage too. I used to be able to do those. Enough pots of tea, and suddenly it was the next morning and my papers were done. Not so much anymore. I think I’m getting old. Monday night I tried to pull an all-nighter to finish some papers. It didn’t work so well. I kept falling asleep at the computer with my fingers on the keys, waking up to find I’d filled half a page with the letter “d.” Plus, the little work I’d actually completed was such incoherent nonsense it was unusable. The next day passed in a surreal haze of exhaustion. People were meeting at my house that evening to put together the Theology On Tap mailing. I helped, but by the end of the evening I was slumped over at the table, my head cushioned on my arms folded in front of me, slap-happy as all get out, laughing helplessly at pretty much everything The Other One said. Thankfully things were pretty much finished by then, so Johnsy pushed people out the door and shoved me up the stairs towards my bed. And then I was asleep. And it was good.
I would like to state that as I type this, my bedroom window is open six inches to let in the fresh air.
Have I mentioned lately that I really like teaching? It’s a deep joy to me to be able to explain something or show someone something, and watch the other person get it and be able to do it. And then I’m so unutterably proud of my students. Last week I was bragging to Johnsy about my Swing I student, who had stayed for the dance afterwards and did so well. I watched her dancing with one of our more advanced leads, and following pretty much everything he led, including lots and lots of stuff she’d never done before in her life. Johnsy laughed at me burbling on and said, “Bernadette, this is how I know you were made to be a teacher. You’re just so proud of your students.”
And on that note…
Prof. Peat Quote Book:
“I told my Intro students that they had to either become Protestant or go to hell, and I think they got very worried. Then I pointed out that for most people there wasn’t much difference between the two, and then they were just confused.”
“If you say FIRE in a Chinese theater, 1000 people die, and people say, eh, that happens.”
“They think I must be some kind of Anarchist Marxist, as if you could be both.”
“Is it progress if cannibals use forks?”
“Though if you know any Classicists, there are some pretty sick puppies out there.”