november 13, 2000. Hmmm. Let's see. I finished my last assignment on Saturday. It's actually due on Wednesday, but since the project was essentially a revision of one that was due on Thursday, I didn't have to do all that much work on it. So I handed it in today. This may be the first time in my entire life that I've handed in a project early. Weird feeling. So, unlike most of my peers, I'm having a pretty relaxing week. The only thing I have left on my plate is my duty to the carpool: I'm to arrange a visit to the school where we're all doing our placement. Just some notes on the practicum, in case you're curious. We go into the schools for 5 weeks at the end of every term; that's 20 weeks over 2 years. We're expected to teach between 40-60% of that time. And although the staff is quick to promise aid, I have heard horror stories from the other students along the lines of, "nice to meet you, the class is yours, see you in 5 weeks." I'm in English, grades 11 & 12. I just hope I have time to read the work before I'm expected to say something coherent about it. If that's even possible. I presented my discovery activity today in English class. It went - okay, I suppose. The discussion was productive & it went the places I wanted it to go. It's just that I wasn't very comfortable team-teaching - I guess I'm too bossy to be completely comfortable with a partner as assertive as I am. The discovery activity - which she came up with, BTW - was conflict-oriented, which is very central to the study of English literature. I mean, it's an old hairy chestnut that you must have a conflict to have a story, but I think it's still a true old hairy chestnut. I don't believe in teaching literature to formula - now we identify the protagonist, now we identify the conflict, now we fit the plot into one sentence - but still. Without conflict, you've got a cookbook. Anyhow. That was my afternoon. I had a very nice lunch today, despite all indications to the contrary. I woke up at 8 this morning and since my work started at 8:30, I could see no reason to leave off rolling around under the duvet & listening to CBC's Information Morning. Eventually I trudged off to the office, packing the barest of minimums: laptop, power cord, network cable, English notebook, note-taking folder, completed Language Arts unit, Poetry of Our Time, Magic Animals: The Selected Poetry of Gwendolyn MacEwan, a Cortland apple & an old edition of "shumpiking." Even my minimums are maximums, friend. Point being, I'd had neither the time nor the inclination to make myself a sandwich for lunch. I figured that I'd just go home during the break - 2 hours was long enough to cook, even. Well. As soon as I hit the street, something happened. Despite the political dance that's overflowing the media these days, despite the political dance down South that threatens to become boring, my own nationality hadn't registered. I became aware that these dances were abstractions as soon as I opened the door & stepped into the November that awaited. I realized something: I live in Canada. It's goddamn cold in the winter. I'm not really sucky about it, I mean, I've lived through 23 Canadian winters so far. But man. That first week is just as hard on me as it is on everyone. By December I've adapted. When winter truly sets in, it doesn't bother me a bit - I feel perfectly justified making fun of Cranly & Waldo for wanting to take a cab for 4 blocks in March. Because I'm damn hearty. I always forget that in the middle of November, I suffer. Deep in the "oh god it's getting cold" doldrums, I seriously doubted that I would be able to leave the warmth of Sem for lunch at home. Sure enough, noon found me in the Lounge, aimlessly surfing blog sites and trying to plan my next move. Where can I eat in this one horse town? Furthermore, where can I eat for under $5? I became despondent & homesick. If only I were in res, I thought. Even if I missed my opportunity for Fung goodness, there were 6 hot dog vendors out my front door. Not to mention 2 Chinese food trucks & a chip wagon. God, I missed Toronto. Fortunately, there was one restaurant on the strip that I had yet to check out: the Coffee Merchant. I'd heard good things about it from classmates, but for some reason we'd never gone in. What a colossal mistake that was. The Merchant is a Moonbean-style coffee house with funky art on the walls and a hell of a Brie sandwich. It felt like coming home, like slipping through a portal for a few minutes. I half expected Tymothi:J to show up & start scribbling in his well-traveled, cheap-ass notebook. So: lunch = good. Cold = bad. I hope you all learned something today.