November 10: Down from His Cross, Parent/Teacher Conferences, Excellence in Part-Time Faculty Teaching Award

Now his snoozing became shallower as he heard a man and a woman speaking German in pitying tones.  The speakers were commiserating with somebody lyrically.  Before Billy opened his eyes, it seemed to him that the tones might have been those used by the friends of Jesus when they took His ruined body down from His cross.  So it goes.

Billy opened his eyes.  A middle-aged man and wife were crooning to the horses.  They were noticing what the Americans had not noticed--that the horses' mouths were bleeding, gashed by the bits, that the horses' hooves were broken, so that every step meant agony, that the horses were insane with thirst.  The Americans had treated their form of transportation as though it were no more sensitive than a six-cylinder Chevrolet.

I am sorry that I didn't post last night.  Like Billy at the end of the war, I found myself in bed, snoozing, at around nine o'clock last night.  I didn't really wake up until my alarm clock went off at six this morning.  I didn't hear crooning Germans or horses in pain while I slept.  No Jesus-down-from-His-cross sounds.  I was dead to the world for a good nine hours.

The last couple weeks have been incredibly busy and incredibly exhausting, from the week before Halloween until now.  Yesterday evening, I went to parent/teacher conferences with my wife.  It was really gratifying to hear so many people tell us how polite and smart our kids are.  And then, after that, we went out to dinner to celebrate a little.

I found out yesterday afternoon that I have been given the inaugural Excellence in Part-Time Faculty Teaching Award from the university where I teach.  I knew that I had been nominated, but I really didn't think that I stood a chance.  There are a lot of excellent contingent professors at the university.  Since it's the first time that the award is being given, I thought it would probably go to some contingent in the sciences.  Instead, it went to me.  A poet and writing teacher.

So, I had a few drinks last night because of that news.  It's going to be a very good Christmas because of the money that accompanies the award.

So, tonight, Saint Marty is thankful for unexpected blessings.

November 8: End of Long Day, iPad Posts

It is the end of a very long day.  I got back from parent/teacher conferences for my daughter a little while ago.  I found out that my daughter is quiet.  I kind of looked around the room when my daughter's teachers said that, and I said, "Are you sure you have the right girl?"  I would describe my daughter as smart, pretty, graceful, funny, talented.  "Quiet" is not a word I would apply to my little girl.  One of her teachers whom I went to high school with said, "I wasn't sure she was your daughter.  She must take after her mother."

Other than that little surprise, everything went well.  All the teachers love my daughter.  Now if I can get her to do her homework before 10 p.m., I will be a happy father.  She takes after me when it comes to procrastination.  For example, I should be saying my prayers and reading my devotional, but I wanted to blog instead.  My daughter would rather sit and play with her iPod than get her homework done.  I'm ashamed to say that she is just like me.

Tonight, I am blogging for the second time with my iPad.  For some reason, the editor for Blogger is now working perfectly with my iPad, although I can't download pictures onto my posts with it yet.  I have to use my regular laptop for that task.  But I am happy that I can post with my iPad now.  It is so much easier.

That's the way my day has gone.  Nothing exciting to report, unless you can get geeked about iPads or my daughter's parent/teacher conferences.

Saint Marty sounds like a soccer mom tonight.

I wonder if her son is "quiet"

November 8: Bred in This Place, Boy, Parent/Teacher Conferences

Hopefully, we won't get any surprises

"Good Heaven!" said Scrooge, clasping his hands together, as he looked about him.  "I was bred in this place.  I was a boy here!"

One of the first places the Ghost of Christmas Past takes Scrooge is to his childhood school.  Scrooge revels in seeing his boyhood friends, calling out to each of them as their shadows pass by.  It's the first time in the entire book when Scrooge is happy, and it has nothing to do with money or rancor.  It's like he's a boy again, and he can't hold his emotions in check.

Today is Blessing Thursday, and I'm going to write about something not too many parents think of as a blessing:  parent/teacher conferences.  This evening, I get to talk to each of my daughter's teachers and find out how well/poorly she's doing in their classes.  I'm not too concerned about receiving bad reports.  My daughter's report card wasn't too bad.  She did get a C+ in Science, but she got A's in Math and Band and Chorus.  She's doing great.

I've always enjoyed talking with my daughter's instructors, from the time she was in preschool.  I admire these people, because they are on the front lines of education.  They work hard for very little money, and I like having the chance to tell them how much I appreciate their efforts.  That may sound    naive, but it's the way I've always felt about elementary and middle school teachers.  They have the hardest, most important jobs in the world.

That's why I think of parent/teacher conferences as a blessing.  Perhaps, when I've been at this father thing a little longer, I'll become jaded.  I'll start making excuses in order to get out of meeting my children's teachers. I have some friends who never go to parent/teacher conferences for their children.  I hope I never reach that point.

Maybe Saint Marty is still the over-achieving, straight-A student who still wants to impress his teachers.