Anecdotes

These are some comments that I made in past weeks. I share them now, so that they may do more than take up space on my hard drive. -Or perhaps the chalk dust is getting to me. I seem to have an acquired immunity to dry erase markers, but not chalk.

There's hope for my roommate. She didn't close the window or turn off the fan last night. Only closed the drapes, which effectively cut off ventilation. We woke up to the St. Peter High school marching band this morning. Through the open window. They have practice at 7:00 on Friday mornings. Poor guys. It stinks to be the people in our section with rooms facing the high school football field. Well, better put, sometimes it just sucks to not have an 8:00 class. Those of us who do were already awake when band practice started. We don't have to worry about falling asleep with that din for another hour or so. I never thought there would be an advantage to having class first thing in the morning. Of course, if I lived on the other side of the building, I wouldn't have that problem. Yet, our side always gets the nice breezes, is away from the bird-filled trees, and never gets direct sun in the window. It’s definitely the better side to be on. Except for that wonderful view of a brick wall outside the window... Hey, if we look to the left we see a softball field, the high school, and the marching band practice grounds. Darn, vicious cycle.

Hooray Spanish. As my roommate would say, "my teacher is on Crack!" (Crack is her way of describing anything out of the ordinary, the mundane, or the conservative, non-secular world) This guy is very hyper. He seriously only spends 65% of class time on the ground. Jumping and flying are his secondary areas of expertise; the activities of the Columbian Narcos are his first. Being that he is from Columbia, he is always speaking of tequila, Dos Equis, and cocaina. In Spanish. We don't speak English in that class... when we do, he draws a mark on our sleeves or shoulders, and says the Narco's are gonna knock us off after class. (The teacher next door is very noisy, always pounding on the Chalkboard, and through the thin walls, we say that the Narco's are working their way through the building.) All of it is in jest of course. In addition, I have been marked every day in a week, and I'm still alive. The system seems to be flawed. Like DeBiase, this guy believes that class is not worth attending if you don’t have at least one bit of fun in it, and that you learn better when you are happy. Gaston, however, enacts that principle to a better and more productive extent. Number one thing that I have learned in that class: "chalk" is the English work for cocaine. Don't worry; I haven't started snorting chalk dust yet. (Just Kidding!)