Casbahs, Werewolves, and Other Groovy Stuff
Mamacita says: I would lie down in the road for a student who comes to class regularly, and honestly tries his/her best. But equally honestly, I am not all that arsed about students who come to class when they feel like it, mess around on their phones and computers when they do come, and who have the nerve to ask for handouts and extra credit when the semester is nearly over so they won’t lose their financial aid.
Fortunately, this last describes only a few students; most of them rock the casbah and I adore them.
Also? I am not easily offended, and when my students raise their eyebrows and give each other the hairy eyeball when I say things like “groovy!” or “The youngest Beatle was George Harrison, for crying out loud,” the only thing that bothers me is that these are things they’re not familiar with.
Important stuff, students. IMPORTANT STUFF!
Likewise stuff like GHOCI, HUSE BUND, and WYFFE. I mean, jeepers. And with all this obsession with werewolves, I think students ought to be interested in the word’s point of origin, don’t you?
Werr werr. Lycanthropy, anyone? 
IMPORTANT STUFF!
P.S. Next week is finals; don’t forget. Those who were not in class today are going to get a big surprise.
Wherefore Scheiss? Oh, and I Do NOT Have A Dead Bird in My Pocket.
Mamacita says: I was reading my dear online friend Judy’s blog tonight and stole this meme idea from her. Thank you, Judy. I haven’t done a meme for a while, mostly because I loathe them, but this one appealed to me so here goes: How I Named My Blog.
Back in early 2004, my friend Wes talked me into starting a blog. This blog, to be specific. Best advice I ever got. Eternal thanks added to the eternal love and friendship, Wes dear.
Yes, former students do sometimes evolve into friends.
Once I’d decided to be a blogger – whatever that was – I had to name the blog. I gave this task more time and thought than I put into naming my children. But then, I’d had their names picked out since I was a child; they’re both named for beloved book people.
But my blog. . . . this new-fangled online journal thing that was destined to be an extension of my heart and soul and personality and self. . . . what to name it? It should be something profound and catchy and cool. It should be reverent and classy and professional. It should be, well, me. That pretty much negates what I thought it should be, doesn’t it. Sigh.
My husband and daughter both speak German. They like to speak it in front of me. Over time, I’ve picked up a few expressions and phrases, and, being me, a few choice little expressions that struck me as worth remembering. Two things in particular always hit me right in the funny bone: Scheisskopf, and something about having a dead bird in one’s pocket. It was close, but I chose Scheisskopf, partly because it was a way to express my opinion without openly offending those who didn’t know what it meant. I’m a really classy broad, but I do love my little inside jokes.
I didn’t want to use this word in my blog’s title because I do have a modicum of dignity; besides, I was afraid people would think I meant ME. Or them, which of course I occasionally do but still. . . .
So I tried to get “Scheiss Daily. ” I was too late; it was taken. So I grabbed up “Scheiss Weekly,” and it’s been “Scheiss Weekly” ever since.
“Scheiss” really ought to have an “e” at the end, but I was so anxious to get the name before some other German name-caller bagged it that I didn’t type it in and therefore, “Scheiss Weekly” was born.
I love my blog, and when you come to visit me and comment, I feel validated. As if I had a right to live in the Blogosphere and ogle the cool kids at that OTHER table.
As for all the hits I get from people searching for scheisse because they want to look at a website about scheisse, well, shame on you, you perverts! they’re just funny now. Once in a blue moon, someone I know hits me up for scheisse; I never tell on them, but I do giggle a lot, late at night.
I can be a scheisskopf at times; don’t think for a minute that I can’t. I even take pleasure in it sometimes. It’s part of my perfection: part mommyblogger, part professor, part educational issues commentator, part child advocate, part bad habit criticizer, part whiner, part social media maven, part astronaut, part ballerina, part Hogwarts fourth year, part rabble-rouser, part nostalgia specialist, part sentimentality wallower, part social critic, part retrospective parenting expert, part reviewer, part holiday reveler, part mind’s eye encourager, part imagination sparkler, part grammar nazi, part societal behavior critic, part funny bone tickler, part heartstrings puller, part professional writer, part international lawyer, part spy, part Broadway fanatic, and part curriculum advisor. Put them all together, plus all the stuff I forgot, and you get: me. I left out the really bad stuff on purpose; I figure my enemies can fill all that in. There may be a few exaggerations in that list; I really can’t be arsed to go back and edit it.
Daughter in Question: please comment and tell me that complete “dead bird in my pocket” expression you used to say to make me laugh. I need a laugh. We all do; times are hard. Don’t actually fart, thankyouverymuch; just tell me the whole expression. Whoops, now you all know what it means. My bad.
I’m assuming y’all know what “scheisskopf” means? So if I say something such as “My former public school administrators sure were a sad bunch of clueless scheisskopfs,” I would not need to explain further?
Good.
Your turn.
Everybody Needs A Hero
Teaching at any level requires an energy level many people do not have. Teachers don’t even have it at the end of many long days. People who don’t understand this like to mention vacation days and summers off, usually with “that look” on their faces. They don’t understand. When teachers get home, they’ve got all the home duties PLUS a good four hours of grading, preparing, and planning. I’m sure there are teachers, somewhere, that go to bed before midnight with everything done while still finding time to participate in their own family’s doings and getting all those household chores done. I personally don’t know any, but they’re no doubt out there.
Teaching – done right – isn’t an 8-hour day. It’s not even a 12-hour day for some of us.
How many people would willingly put up with some of the stuff teachers have to put up with? I mean besides you uppity folk who throw summer in our faces, and who can’t understand why another adult would not appreciate the adorable way Corralleighna stomps her foot, scratches, and uses Uncle Daddy’s cuss words in that little baby voice when she doesn’t get her way? So cute.
Teaching- done right- is standup. Every time the bell rings, the teacher has a new audience. Each audience is different and must be approached and handled individually. The better classrooms are like an interactive Rocky Horror midnight showing; there is as much action from the audience as from the headliners. However, just as a good interactive audience knows when to sit quietly and wait for instructions or permissions, a good classroom knows when to do the same. Badly behaved audience members are escorted OUT; what a shame our badly behaved class members don’t get the same. But I digress.
Key word there: interactive. A demo is not interactive. A demo is just a demo. Students should be interactive participants, not deadpan watchers of a demo. (Unless the next step is interaction.) Instruction, participation, interaction, and then the student does the demo all by himself/herself, with full understandingof what’s happening, and eager to show someone else.
To some people, such skills come naturally. To others of us, these skills must be taught.
We all need a hero to keep going. Without these heroes, we have no proof, sometimes, that “it” CAN be done and done right and done so well we’re left gaping in awe.
There is that one someone in each profession who is so good at what he or she does, so awesomely absolutely good at it, that we think of this person as a kind of professional idol. A celebrity in our field. We strive to – not imitate, for that never works in any profession – but to use as a good example of what we are ALL trying to do. . . that person who has figured out how to do “it” right, whatever “it” might be. Every profession has an icon.
Here is mine:
