Wednesday, March 7, 2018

C is for Cookie, C is for Crandall, C is for the Grade He Gave Himself on Tuesday

Okay, Crandall. You've slid into Wednesday morning and there are no words for the last 48 hours but I will give it a try.

I woke up with duck lips from trying to suck water through a hose to drain the basement at 2 a.m. - my dad does is it with the pool. No luck in a house fiasco.

By 9 I had a portable sump pump pushing water out of the house.

By 11, I got the heat to kick back on.

By 1, Henry the aquatics man was back (from last year's flood) to name that all the parts were under warranty. Phew.

By 2, he secured a fix for the flood, attached a new part that will keep water from the pipe returning down the pipe, and secured the sloppy job he did the hear before.

By 3, I was ready for class and mailed copies to campus.

By 4, I arrived to campus to realize that the copies made by my graduate student for class were every other page, so they had to all be redone.

By 4:45, I was teaching. I told the students, do not expect much from me and I replayed the last 48 hours. Actually, it was a great class, because it was Reader's Response and we began to apply it to a wonderful Poe Ballantine short story, and because the Notice & Note book has been extremely helpful.

By 8, I was visiting a class at UNLV and doing a presentation about digital literacies with at-risk populations.

By 10, I was home and trying to find out what the latest prediction for snow actually is.

I am waking up this morning wondering what direction today's class will take. The middle school students have a snow day so they will not be on campus. Now we await a Fairfield decision. I'm hoping there's food to cook.

I want a cookie.

That is all. 

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