It's unseasonably warm around here today - the high was 84 degrees - which has put me in mind of California, and got me thinking about Kevin . . . so I went to the store and got the fixin's for martinis . . . (yes, that apostrophe is in the right place. It's holding the place for the missing g.)

Hm. Perhaps I have been teaching English for too long . . .

It's been a rather up-and-down week or so around here. The latest student skirmish (there have been lots of skirmishes, particularly with the spectacularly 16-year-old Emma) came today, when I handed back some business letters. The deal with the business letters: We have artificially divided the world into 3 categories of business letters - direct, indirect, persuasive - and students must produce two of each. If they submit something that clearly violates genre expectations, I hand it back (with no credit) with the proviso that they can then write something that meets the criteria, and I'll grade that instead. Today one student said to me, "So you mean, on top of all my other work, I now have to write two more letters???" I wanted to say, "Yes! And I, on top of all my other work, will have to grade them because you are TOO STUPID to have done the assignment right in the first place!!"

But of course I didn't say that. (Nor did I say, "Oh, okay. If you're too busy, don't redo the letters, then. I'll just fail you.")

Instead, I realized: When I hand things back, people will be hostile. No matter what. I feel somewhat responsible for this situation, because I know the reactions were exacerbated because I collected the letters over two weeks ago, but still. Even if I had handed them back during the next class period, I'd have gotten the same reaction from someone.

I've got to figure out how to manage the grading I have to do. There has got to be some way to lighten the load . . . I spent all yesterday evening grading (until 10:30) and then got up at 6:30 this morning and started in again, so I could get these letters done before class today. I routinely spend about 8 hours on the weekend working, and I work every evening (unless I'm completely exhausted). I'm about to drag my computer in front of the TV, where I will grade yet more letters as the Red Wings play.

I should point out that there are other students, students who don't complain and who actually seem to be learning, actually seem to be grateful for what I'm trying to teach. I should concentrate more on them. I promised myself before this year started that I would . . .

So my birthday: I've decided against the Nano . . . I really want one, and am hoping Santa will bring one, but it seems a bit unfair to get one when I know that Emma would really like an iPod (to replace the one that got stolen last year). (Why I should be considerate of this sixteen-year-old who is barely giving me the time of day lately is something only God and Darwin understand, I'm sure. Must be some genetic imperative about mothers and daughters, but I sure don't know what it is.) (And I'm sure some of you are puzzled as to why I get to decide what my present is going to be . . . that's too much to unravel right now.)

Anyhow, my friend Brenda and I are going to go to Mackinac Island for the weekend instead . . . this is kind of a consolation prize, truth be told. I would prefer to go with Emil, but he doesn't want to go. Emma would ordinarily be my second choice, but at the moment, I can't depend on her for two days of conflict-free company. Brenda has never been to Mackinac, so I'm hoping it's fun for her - and she seems determined to give me a few days of sitting on the porch at the Inn on Mackinac (also my second choice: I wanted the Windermere and a bridge view), reading novels . . . I must say, I am looking forward to being up there on the shank of the season, with the leaves turning and the air crisp with fall . . . There's nothing quite to compare with the look of water in the fall, and since I no longer journey to New Brunswick in the fall (to see the St. Johns River or the Bay of Fundy), this will be a good choice. The Straits of Mackinac are magical, if you ask me. Something about all that sky and water . . .

And Brenda is an awfully good friend. She's not a second-choice friend; I don't mean to give that impression at all. If it were not my birthday weekend I would be totally happy to go with her. And once I get on the road I will be happy nonetheless . . . look for pictures early next week . . .