Last night I dreamed that I was giving a final exam, which is something I seldom do as a writing teacher. My class was in this large dark multi-level auditorium, the kind of room in which exams are impossible to monitor. Cheating was rampant, even though I had announced, "If I see you cheating, I will take your paper from you and tell you to leave." Of course, I caught people cheating. In one instance, I forced two men who were reading each other's answers to give each other a grade. (Like THAT would work!) In addition, people had brought their children. One couple had triplets that were crawling around everywhere, naked as jaybirds. (Must be inspired by the segment on the Today Show where poor Natalie Morales was inundated by these five-year-old sextuplets.)
The start of the teacher nightmares means one thing: school is about to begin, and I've got to get myself in gear for the new semester. Groan. I'd better start working myself into a state of enthusiasm, though, or I'll never make it through the next five months.
My younger son got settled into his new apartment yesterday, if you can call it getting settled when you have no furniture, not even a bed to sleep on. He sent me pictures. The one above is his kitchen. I'm jealous. It's a better kitchen than my studio apartment has. Fingers crossed that this is going to work for him.
Esteemed Spouse leaves in the morning for a conference in Boston. He'll be back on Monday night. Just the cat and me, alone. Not like I don't have enough to do, though. Given the nature of my nightmare, I guess I'd better start getting ready to teach.
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