In which I repeatedly threaten to stab myself in the eye with a pen.

Tonight I drove to UNCG for a class. Sign count!

Obama signs: 7
McCain signs: 0
Don Vaughn signs: 3 (he’s running for State Senate) (that link is not an endorsement)

In conclusion: UNCG is voting Obama.

There is one common theme in the classes that I take for licensure: They all make me want to use more profanity than I ever thought possible. Also, they make me want to stab myself in the eye with a pen. As I fiddled with my pen this evening, I seriously contemplated stabbing myself in the eye with it. Because then I would get to leave. Rather than being spoken to like a kindergartner. *stab stab stab*

I will admit that my attitude about these classes is not always the best. I always start with the idea of going with the flow. I don’t want to be the person who can’t learn from other people because she thinks she knows it all. I definitely do not know it all when it comes to teaching. But the classes! They are often busywork or playacting so as to meet some state requirement. And I do not find that helpful. *stab stab stab*

Last semester, I took a class with a professor who was kind of not my favorite. She spent a lot of time talking about how great she was. And grading our assignments in pithy ways. For our last assignment, part of our requirement was a reflective paper. In what was probably not my finest moment, I wrote reflectively about how lame I thought the assignment was, taking potshots at the part of the assignment I was supposed to be reflecting upon and its really specific (pointless) requirements. In my defense, I did not take potshots at her personally. At least I can say that. That, however, is not something that she can say, because in her response to my paper, she did take (completely untrue) potshots at me. I wrote back correcting her misinformation about me, and she told me that she did not like my tone. I then wished her well, because, thankfully, she was planning to retire over the summer. Did I mention that she was kind of not my favorite? *stab stab stab*

Anyway, I don’t know why I just told you that story. It does not exactly cover me in glory. But it does show you how frustratingly asinine I find these classes. They make me do things I would never normally do. Tune in next week to read about my huge crazy freakout in which I take too many behavioral meds at once, rip off my clothes, and jump into the fountain at the mall, yelling, “Blaaaaah! I’m a kraken from the sea!”

(To my mom: Do not be alarmed. That is a reference to Juno. Not something I actually plan on doing.)

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