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Grading papers is the hardest part of my job. It's not that I don't like reading
my students' work...it's just that I don't like reading the same thing 90 times. I dread sitting down with a pile
of papers; I avoid it expertly. Grading papers is my Achilles' heel.
Note to anyone in any of my classes--if you understood
the mythology reference, it would warm my heart if you would print out that first paragraph to hang on the allusions
bulletin board in the classroom...no one contributes to it but me!
My freshmen are engaged in a year-long project called a Memory Book. Every few
weeks they are assigned a new chapter--"My Heritage" or "Family Lore" or, the most recent,
"The Day I Was Born." The idea is that I get them to do a lot of writing, but it's all about themselves,
so they don't mind it too much. After revising the papers, they place them into a scrapbook which they decorate
outside of class.
I had a big stack o' Memory Book chapters to grade this week because--as is my
habit--I let them pile up in frightening stacks until I could put off reading them no more. I began to tackle them
yesterday and immediately became addicted to the life stories I found within the carefully typed pages. Instead
of dragging my purple pen across each line of text, I found myself settling back on the couch and laughing out
loud at their interpretations of what their parents told them about their birth and early years. Instead of counting
how many papers I had left, I grew anxious as I noticed that the pile before me was growing smaller.
I'm not sure how funny you think 9th graders are, but I'll give you a random sampling
of what I read.
On choosing names...
My mom chose my name. There was this show called "Dynasty"...
My name was chosen while my mom was in the shower trying to come up with a name
that would bring me great angst throughout my whole life.
On their birth...
Little did they realize on that cold Friday evening that their lives were to be
forever changed by that 7 pound, 5 ounce bundle of wrinkles soon to be known as me.
My mom and dad like to tell the story of watching "The Gong Show" in
the early morning hours of my mom's labor. They said the show was kind of weird, just like me.
On 12:34 p.m. I took my first breath in this world. It was September 5, 1984;
it was a cold fall day with a blue sky, and big puffy white clouds like in the beginning of the Simpson's.
I was a perfect baby except for the fact that I had a bowel movement before I
was born, which is disgusting, I know.
My birth impacted the lives of all the people around me greatly. I'm sure if I
wasn't born, there would be no one to lead the country.
I was born a jaundice baby which meant that I had a yellow hue to my skin. To
cure it I had to lay naked in the sun for a few hours every day for about a week.
Early Activities
When I was about one year old my parents had another child. My mom and dad didn't
have too much trouble with me because they said that I basically slept all day.
My first laugh was on March 19, while I was in the bath. When I learned to move
myself around, it was on my back. After about a week of scooting around on my back everywhere, I developed a bald
spot on the back of my head. On May 8th, I ate a dandelion.
Early Education
Because I wasn't five years old by September 1st, I didn't make the cutoff date
to get into kindergarten so I took three years of preschool at Country Day preschool.
Sibling Relations
When I was taken home from the hospital, my family was all there waiting for me.
My sisters were so happy that they got a baby to play with that they almost passed out, I'm sure. My mom says they
loved taking care of me, and they liked feeding me and rocking me to sleep. This is hard to believe because now,
if I look at them the wrong way, they bite my head off. Women!
For extra credit, I offered to let their parents write their own reflection about
what it was like to wait for the birth of their son or daughter. So many parents wrote so many touching things,
but after reading this one, I burst into tears.
...After a long wait the nurse brought out a little baby boy and told me that
my wife was fine. As soon as I looked into my son's eyes I knew that he was meant to be with me all along. It was
like seeing an old friend.
I just want to hug all of these funny, sentimental chickens and the families who
raised them.
I love my job.
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