Before I shake the Magic 8 Ball this morning, however, I just wanted to share my agenda for today. The most important task I have to complete is creating the final exam for my mythology class. It shouldn't take too long, but I hate the whole process. I don't like trying to design a test that basically demonstrates two things. First, how much my students have learned/not learned during the second half of the semester. Second, how effective/ineffective I was as a teacher during the second half of the semester. Obviously, these two factors are very closely related.
Now that I have that off my chest, I will move forward with my question for the Christmas Spirits this early a.m.:
Will I ever win the Nobel Prize in Literature? (Hey, I might as well go for the gold.)
And my answer from A Christmas Carol is:
The cold became intense. In the main street at the corner of the court, some labourers were repairing the gas-pipes, and had lighted a great fire in a brazier, round which a party of ragged men and boys were gathered: warming their hands and winking their eyes before the blaze in rapture.
Well, I like the scene being described. In the face of glacial deprivation, a bright beacon of warmth shines forth. Like moths to a candle, people gather around this flame, warming themselves, finding pleasure in its nascent greatness.
Yes, Virginia, there will be a Nobel Prize in your future. Your literary genius will not be denied by the world. Young and old alike will celebrate your fame and talent in rapture. In a cold, dark world, you will be a source of hope and light.
Saint Marty better start working on his acceptance speech.
|I gotta get a copy of this book|