Another Sad, but Horribly True Confession . . .

The time has come for yet another sad (but terribly honest) confession. This afternoon I spent my two hours of preparation time grading papers. . . 

And I enjoyed every moment of it. 

I suppose I should see this as confirmation that God has given me the abilities and interests necessary for my current profession, but admitting this feels almost . . . well, wrong. No one is supposed to enjoy grading. (What is wrong with me?)


I believe my 9th graders caused this tragic admission. (Grrr.)


Here I sat, innocently reading vocabulary tests . . . expecting the same old vocabulary words repeated time after time, test after test. And what to my wondering eyes should appear? 


See for yourself:

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"Carla B. Rexus was disgruntled. This was because her obituary had her name spelled wrong. She had pretended to die so that she could see her own interment. She had always found funerals mesmerizing. To disguise herself she dressed in garish yellow and pink, girding herself from head to toe. Seeing these bright colors approaching people would avert their eyes, so they never saw Carla's countenance. Carla had just lost her job, due to her small repertoire. She had also expedited the curtailment of her job by acting like a buffoon at work. At her funeral, Carla was indignant at the lack of largess in her guests. They didn't bring a single gift!  There were a smattering of compliments for her, though. Well, they were compliments to her. . . people said she was malignant and infamous as a stereotypical valley-girl. Her sister told of how Carla spent her small stipend on junk during every cessation from her work. She was also credited with being an omnivorous shoplifter, stealing from sports shops to supply accessory stores. Carla had caused a resurgence in earmuffs, because no one wanted to hear her rampant babbling. Her mother told of her insatiable wish to ride a dinosaur. At this point, Carla gave up her illusory game and jumped up, scaring everyone and causing an exodus from the funeral home."  



By Hannah

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Not amused? Try another . . .

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"Gary wrote obituaries for the local newspaper. The smell of death permeated the rest of his life. One day Gary curtailed his work and went to a stereotypical vampire hangout to change things up. Then he saw her, and felt a resurgence of life! Her green eyes lacerated his heart.
Her name was Lindy and she had a repertoire for being sweet, but was vicious with an insatiable lust for blood. 


Lindy was a luminary in the vampire world. Next to her Gary looked like a buffoon, and his garish clothes left him looking very indignant. Lindy was mesmerized by him.When they were married alternatives had to be made. No vampire exodus to Iceland, no altercations, never go to bed disgruntled . . . The mix of human and vampire blood was a sensation and they had many largess of gifts. 


Lindy started working and received a stipend. One day while sitting at dinner (Lindy was omnivorous) they were told that their marriage was void and Gary was to be expedited to jail. Soon he died in jail. 


Lindy was so upset, as Gary was the rudiment of her life and soon died of a broken heart. Their friends' rancor led to making mixed marriages legal and on their ephemeral stones it said,


"Two lovers, two monsters, one love."


By Ellie

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Appalled by the easily seen fact that I was enjoying grading my vocabulary tests, I quickly shoved the remaining tests in my backpack and switched over to my literary device quizzes. Seriously, reading 9th grade poetry analysis should be able to stifle any enjoyment I was finding in my work. Right? 


Wrong. I made the mistake of allowing students to "play with words" on the back of the quiz when they were done. I expected it to be like watching toddlers playing with blocks. 

*Sweetly* "Oh, yes, very nice Word Castle, little Susie. 

*Under my breath* "Looks like it might fall over any minute."

Instead, they somehow managed to write these amusing diddles in the mere 15 minutes I gave them upon finishing their quizzes:

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The Bookmark
by Sam


"It sits there, as it stares. 
I slowly approach, 
as though it cares
that I will learn, 
And that I will see,
That near greatness
that will become of me.


It sits there, 
In this work of art,
Just waiting for me
To make a start. 


And if i'm lost
he knows where I am,
As I move through this book
As though it cares.


For without him,
I will not make it through.
He saves my place,
. . . So what about you?"

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. . . Wish I could fling words on a page and make something that enjoyable when I was in 9th grade. Bah! I'm still NOT supposed to be enjoying myself! Toughen up, woman!

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The Eraser
by James


The Eraser, small and white
could rival against the pencil's might.


It's rectangular shape
could erase a whole line, 
it wipes out errors 
and mistakes of mine. 


If only there was an eraser
in real life
to erase the past errors
of human kind.


But, sadly, It is only
a false reality
where an eraser could
redo humanity.

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Really? By this point you can imagine I was downright annoyed. I was smiling and laughing, enjoying myself and savoring every word . . . 


. . . I suppose the bottom line is this . . . 

I love my work. 

Thank you, wonderful CISP students, 

for making this school year so enjoyable. 

You will be muchly missed this summer . . . 

And I hope to see many of you again next school year!