So I'm grading midterms, harried as usual.
Grading midterms is always an oppressive experience. Right up to that moment, I am always convinced the class is brilliant, that they have learned everything I have taught, that everything is going so well. Comes the exam, well.
Anyway!
There I am grading away, harried and grieved, yanking at my hair (which I have cut even shorter) while I mutter in exasperation ("How can that be a participial phrase? How? It's not even remotely a verbal!") when the kid comes to sit at the table with me.
The Kid: I really like your hair like that.
Me: Thanks. Me, too. It's very handy.
The Kid: I mean how it's gone grey like that -- right there in that one patch? Where you part it?
Me: Um. Okay?
The Kid: It makes you look like a Supervillain.
4 hours ago
2 comments:
My MIL had a streak of bright white hair from the time she was a teenager and she has super dark hair (almost black) so it's really noticeable. She used to work at a women's prison and one inmate was TERRIFIED of my MIL because she was convinced that she was a bad witch. If she got out of hand they would just call my MIL to come stand by her cell and she would stop, lest a spell be cast.
Heh! Mine's not *that* noticeable, because I'm sort of sandy-brown/blonde and the grey bit is silver-blonde.
But still! I'm now going around thinking of myself as a Supervillain Professor.
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