I subbed this morning for an instructor who had to go to a meeting, and it was a good experience. About half the class showed up, and two of the guys sauntered in forty minutes late, but even so, I had fun being there and I hope the students did, too. I love my college so much I’d probably scrub the bathrooms if they asked me to, and post about how much I enjoyed it.

I’m getting ready to email the instructor and I hope she throws the book at the two latecomers, because they did not have a good excuse at ALL. Slackers. And, if all those no-shows don’t have a REALLY good reason for being absent, I hope she gives them zeros for the day. That is what we’re supposed to do at this level, anyway.

I’m not mean, honest. I am just a firm believer in everyone doing his/her proper jobs.

I was at school today from 7:30 a.m. ’till 9:00 p.m. I might be a little tired.

And it WASN’T my fault that the campus server blew up in the middle of my class tonight, either. Although the sparks were lovely. . . .

I’m home now, and there’s nothing quite like little cats curled up as close to you as they can get, purring away and twitching their long tails in dream-filled happiness.

There is no truth to the rumor that they only love me because there’s always a ‘mouse’ nearby.

Mamacita, Scheiss Weekly

If not for many of the so-called “Christians,” more people would believe in God.

I have seen several videos of Benny Hinn in action, and his action is usually one of two things: he blows on people and his breath knocks them down like rows of dominoes, OR, he takes off his white or pastel jacket and wields it like a bullwhip, tearing into a crowd and levelling it. Either way, he whoops like a banshee, and if I saw him running towards me I would somehow find the strength to outrun him and hide somewhere safe.

I understand that Benny Hinn is threatening to sue The Wittenburg Door because they posted a video of his wife Suzanne Hinn on their website.

I’ve seen the video, and aside from her hideous dress, joke-inspiring hair, witless lack of vocal expertise, and pathetic choice of wording, I saw nothing wrong with the video. It would have made a good SNL sketch, but unfortunately, it’s for real. She’s a joke, a huge, out-of-breath buffoon, but there’s nothing actually ‘wrong’ with the video. Sadly, it’s all too accurate.

Why do so many of these people have such huge oddly-colored monster-size hair and hideous dresses? Why don’t they take a few speech lessons?

Public speaking rule #1: STAND STILL!
Public speaking rule #2: LEARN HOW TO BREATHE!
Public speaking rule #3: DO NOT REFER TO GOD AND ENEMAS IN THE SAME SENTENCE!
Public speaking rule #4: Since you’re spending a lot of your believers’ money on personal things anyway, please go out and buy a decent dress.

In my humble opinion, The Wittenburg Door is one of the wittiest newsletters out there today; it is, among other things, living proof that some Christians are intelligent and have a genuine sense of humor. I’m sure that God laughs Himself sick over The Wittenburg Door. At least, the God I believe in would.

God Almighty and the intelligent Christians laugh themselves sick over Suzanne Hinn, too, but not for the same reasons. Sigh. I really don’t understand it; don’t all Christians speak regularly of the Holy Enema, and taking it up the butt?

If only I were taking Mrs. Hinn’s pacing sermon out of context. . . .

And oh, speaking of her famous Holy Enema video, here it is.

Many years ago I had a student who absolutely could not sit still for more than a few minutes at a time. His entire body fairly twitched, like the car-stealing kid in Holes, and most of the time he could be found walking, walking, walking around whatever classroom he was in that period, bothering everybody with the constant movement, until the teacher told him to ‘take his seat and stay there.’

But he couldn’t ‘stay there.’ That was the whole problem.

He was a nice kid, smart, well-read, respectful. . . He raised his hand before he spoke out, loved to participate, contributed positively, did his homework, made good grades. . . he just couldn’t sit still.

I loved this kid. But it was unfair both to him and to all the other kids, for him to be constantly on the move in the classroom, randomly pacing, pacing, pacing, and going nowhere in particular, just needing to move his body.

I knew I couldn’t do anything about the movement, but I thought I might try something about the ‘random.’

So I assigned him two seats on opposite corners of the classroom. I figured, if his wandering was purposeful – walking directly from one desk to another – it might not be so distracting to everyone else and might even give the kid some focus.

Oh, he still had to get up and pace, pace, pace, but now he paced from Desk One to Desk Two, sat and tried to focus for a few minutes, then got up and paced from Desk Two back to Desk One. He was really good about not deviating from the path.

Now, the other kids weren’t constantly bothered by his random walking, walking, walking, I didn’t have to constantly tell him to sit down (every time he got to one of his seats, he immediately sat down) his body got to pace out the tension or stress or ADD or whatever the problem was, he didn’t have to worry about interrupting or annoying the rest of us (he really was a good kid!) the stigma of “disobeying” was gone (as long as he kept to his part of the deal, which he did, beautifully and gratefully) and we all got along fine.

Some of his teachers refused to try anything except the request, then the command, then the threat, and then the punishment, but those teachers are the ones we don’t want to sit by at a teacher’s meeting. (Couldn’t resist, sorry.)

I’m not saying that this is the solution to any and all disruptive situations wherein a student refuses to stay seated, but it worked for this boy. And it probably wouldn’t have worked if he hadn’t been an innately good, well-meaning, polite kid.

But that year, with that student, and his particular circumstances and disposition. . . . it worked beautifully.

Sometimes the solution is so simple it eludes us.

Mamacita, Scheiss Weekly