Well, I just completed my first set of parent phone calls. I have to say, it's a lot less scary once you get going. I had anticipated a lot of indifference and anger, but the worst I got was dippy ("I don't know what would help") and confrontational ("What's the longest book you've ever read?"). I got really great advice from Samuel (a colleague in the department), which was "be positive." The idea is that the kid may be the world's biggest asshole, but you can probably find one honest, good thing to say about them. I exaggerated a bit with a few parents...but not too many. The really neat thing is that parents, confronted with reasonably positive news, act like they're being congratulated rather than dressed down.

It's a little secret, but it's a powerful one.

"Remember, I have to live here."

- one of my students, about to get his mother on the phone

You know, I think today's the day to talk about the squirrels. I've been saving this story for a day when I had a bit of energy and a lack of anything to discuss.

So: we have squirrels in our backyard. There's a highschool on the lot behind our apartment building, and in between it and us stands behind a couple of gigantic trees, some of which produce crab-apples. (You can see where this is going, right?) Almost from the first day we noticed the squirrels frolicking along our back fence, clutching apples in their little mammalian paws. For some reason, I don't think I saw a squirrel in the length and breadth of Nova Gothic, so it was kind of nice to see the little guys around my bedroom window.

Anyway, we soon noticed that every time we saw a squirrel, it would be in the process of running to the phone box, there to eat its apple in what passes for meditative silence. We only ever saw one at a time. We decided that there was only one squirrel, and we further decided to name this animal Sassy, the Apple-Eating Squirrel.

A week later we saw a squirrel acting oddly in the back field of the school. As we watching in disbelief, this squirrel ran a foot up the trunk of a tree & froze for a good ten seconds. Then it suddenly jumped off the tree and bounded around frantically for a few minutes. Then, back on the tree. Freeze. Spastic dancing. Repeat.

We named this one Pixie. You can guess why.

So tired of teaching. Can't wait for the weekend. What's the quote? "You hate your job? There's a name for that - everyone. The support group meets in the bar on Friday." This weekend I'm hoping to catch the Irish D's and do a bit of cathartic stomping with Stacy. Fun fun!