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[Kerrin]

I went and asked the teacher why I had lost the half-a-mark. He laughed at me and said, "Nothing's perfect! No-one can be perfect!"

That sounds like exactly the wrong way to teach exactly the right lesson.

 

[Louanne Learning]

I ran into that teacher about 20 years after I graduated high school and he laughs and says, "I remember you! You would never shut up!" Then he makes quacking motions with his hand. "Yak, yak, yak!"

I was quiet in school. He confused me with someone else.

 

[CatrionaGrace]

I still occasionally hear from my high school forensics teacher. He must be around 90 now. I never voluntarily signed up for forensics. He was my sophmore English teacher. One day he told me I'd just joined his forensics class and he'd see me eighth period. No matter what I signed up for in a school year, I found forensics tacked on at the end of the day.

 

[Louanne Learning]

My favourite teachers were my math teachers. They were all so good at what they did.

 

[CatrionaGrace]

Math was the dreariest of the brown subjects- not even a healthy rich earth brown, but a dry whitened brown without so much of a hint that it had ever been alive.

I was grown before I realized other people didn't perceive academic subjects in color. Physics was a pale pinkish brown, like the color people used to paint their walls in the fifties and early sixties. English was blue. Biology was a deep blue-green. Spanish didn't have a specific color, but it was on the warm end of the spectrum. Chemistry was a rusty orange. History was on the blue side of red without actually being purple.

 

[Louanne Learning]

I took a lot of French, too, and would call it pink.

 

[CatrionaGrace]

That works. I never took French so never experienced it as color. Languages per se don't have color for me.

 

[Louanne Learning]

In Canada, it's a mandatory course up to grade 9 (at least it was - I'm pretty sure it still is.) But I really enjoyed the language, and took it all the way to university, choosing it as my first year elective.

 

[CatrionaGrace]

Makes tons of sense in Canada. French wouldn't have been very useful where I grew up. The second language in my family is Spanish. My father learned it when he joined the Border Patrol in 1958. Most of our neighbors and many of my classmates in south Texas spoke at least some Spanish. My son-in-law and sister-in-law are both from Mexico.

 

[Set2Stun]

In Canada, it's a mandatory course up to grade 9 (at least it was - I'm pretty sure it still is.) But I really enjoyed the language, and took it all the way to university, choosing it as my first year elective.

This was still the case when I attended high school. I dropped it after grade 9. "French? Who the hell needs to know French? No one here speaks French anyway!"

Then a little more than a dozen years later, I found myself living and working in Ottawa. So so many jobs here require bilingualism. Whoopsie doodles.

 

[Louanne Learning]

Whoopsie doodles.

That would be gribouillages whoopsie!

 

[Set2Stun]

I think I'd still do well playing elementary school French Bingo. Thank you for that translation lol. I love some French translations that I've been exposed to on product packaging over the years, such as pamplemousse, one of my favourites.

 

[Louanne Learning]

But I do like regular vanilla ice cream better then French vanilla ice cream.

 

[Link the Writer]

Reading John Metcalf’s autobiography. The prose is all in third person which is interesting. I guess it makes sense. A blind Welshman claiming, ‘Yes, I was blind and played a fiddle in a tavern, built bridges, and stole some guy’s wife’ would sound way too unrealistic so he was all, ‘Just let the story stand for itself, write it like a report.’

…Jesus Christ, they were not kidding.

He’s a mad lad. Here’s an excerpt.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
A man at Knaresborough having married a woman who had lived at a farm-house about a mile distant, brought his wife to his own home; and some articles being left in the deserted house, he sent a son he had by a former marriage to bring them away.—Metcalf being about the same age as this boy, chose to accompany him. When they got to the place, the boy missed the key, which he had lost from his pocket by the way; and being afraid to return without his errand, he consulted Metcalf about what was to be done. Metcalf was for entering the house at all events; and not being able to procure a ladder, got a pole, which reached to the thatch, and having borrowed a rope and a stick, he climbed up the pole, and then ascending by the roof to the chimney, he placed the stick across, and fastening the rope to it, attempted to descend, but finding the flew too narrow, he threw off his cloaths, and laying them on the ridge of the house, made a second attempt, and succeeded: he then opened the door for his companion. While they were in the house, there was a heavy thunder-shower, to which Metcalf’s cloathes were exposed, being left upon the house-top: he attempted to get up again, to fetch them; but the pole by which he had ascended was now so wet, that he could not climb by it; he was therefore obliged to wait until it dried, when ascending again, he recovered his cloathes. This was considered by all who heard of it as a very extraordinary performance by one in his situation, as well as a great act of friendship to his companion.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Basically, he goes, ‘Sure, I’ll help you break in, let me grab a pole and shove my ass into a chimney. Woops, can’t fit. Let me strip. Awwh, clothes got wet so I gotta wait ‘til they’re dry before I reclaim them. Meanwhile, let’s just sit around this farmhouse, my ol’ friend. Tea?’

And note, he’s blind. He’s never been in this farmhouse before, so he’s basically feeling around with zero idea of the house’s layout to get to the front door to let his friend in.

 

[CatrionaGrace]

Having taken the time to open her computer and find her way to the forum she very often visits to enjoy the virutal companionship of those who, like herself, write, though some better than others, she happened upon an excerpt from the third person autobiography, though writing an autobography in third person seems odd, of John Metcalf. Upon reading said excerpt, she entertained doubts as to the individual's truthfulness, or at least his grasp of reality, not to mention his inability to write a single clear sentence, and therefore decided based upon what is after all a single excerpt in an extensive tome to not read Mr. Metcalf's autobiography.

 

[GrahamLewis]

I still occasionally hear from my high school forensics teacher. He must be around 90 now. I never voluntarily signed up for forensics. He was my sophmore English teacher. One day he told me I'd just joined his forensics class and he'd see me eighth period. No matter what I signed up for in a school year, I found forensics tacked on at the end of the day.

My high school speech teacher approached me, an introverted, withdrawn, and isolated pimply-faced younger-than-he-appeared lad, and essentially drafted me into her forensics class and onto the debate team. It may well have saved my life, though I didn't understand it at the time. Don't know if she saw something in me or saw that I needed something. Later I did become a lawyer, make of that what you will.

 

[Louanne Learning]

Does anyone ever make baked capusta? I learned how from my Polish mother-in-law. I start with three jars of sauerkraut (my favourite brand is Kuhne - no vinegar in it) - and 5-6 onions, sliced thin and fried in oil till very brown, and a couple pounds of thick-sliced bacon, cut in bite-sized pieces and fried till about half-way cooked. Mix all and bake in oven for about 3 hours. One of my favourite things.

I haven't made it since last winter and am making it today.

 

[CatrionaGrace]

My high school speech teacher approached me, an introverted, withdrawn, and isolated pimply-faced younger-than-he-appeared lad, and essentially drafted me into her forensics class and onto the debate team. It may well have saved my life, though I didn't understand it at the time. Don't know if she saw something in me or saw that I needed something. Later I did become a lawyer, make of that what you will.

Maybe drafting unlikely students was a common practice among forensic coaches? I flatly refused to paticipate in debate, but I earned varsity status in every individual event offered. Even the solid determination of Smith couldn't convince me to play team sports.

I became a CLA in my forties because I had minor children and could no longer spend six months a year in the field as a range conservationist. One day, an attorney took out his bad temper on his faithful, excellent, and innocent legal secretary, bringng her to tears and trembling. I realized I was one step away from grabbing him by the shirtfront and putting him through the nearest wall. Frankly, I think that action would've been fully justified since his threats and intimidation constituted assault, but rather than risk getting his blood on what was really a very nice Turkish rug, I decided to resign and go back to being a scientist.

 

[GrahamLewis]

Maybe drafting unlikely students was a common practice among forensic coaches? I flatly refused to paticipate in debate, but I earned varsity status in every individual event offered. Even the solid determination of Smith couldn't convince me to play team sports.

I became a CLA in my forties because I had minor children and could no longer spend six months a year in the field as a range conservationist. One day, an attorney took out his bad temper on his faithful, excellent, and innocent legal secretary, bringng her to tears and trembling. I realized I was one step away from grabbing him by the shirtfront and putting him through the nearest wall. Frankly, I think that action would've been fully justified since his threats and intimidation constituted assault, but rather than risk getting his blood on what was really a very nice Turkish rug, I decided to resign and go back to being a scientist.

Well, the debate team was the only way I could earn a letter-sweater; and as for the attorney stuff, I was not a very good one, largely because it didn't interest me. I loved law school, and being a judicial clerk, but never had the personality or demeanor to be the courtroom type, though I did win my only jury trial and was good at arguing appeals. I know some decent attorneys, and some who are real scary scumbags. Most are somewhere in between, and those with decent personalities (my judgment) tend to drop out or wander out. I had a heart attack and ended up editing law books, where having a law degree was a must, because lawyers rarely listen to anyone without one.

 

[CatrionaGrace]

You made lemonade out of lemons, Graham.

Most of my attorneys were decent people and good to excellent trial lawyers. The jerk who made his secretary cry was one hell of an attorney. Like any bully, he backed down when confronted. I saw his primary legal assistant lose her temper with him over some idiocy he'd pulled. She literally backed him against a wall that day and and out-yelled him with no effort. He behaved himself after that, and wouldn't hear a word against her.

Once during a conversation with a couple of attorneys who assumed the legal assistants and office staff lacked much ion the way of higher education. I pointed out they only had three semesters more education than I did. Oh, no, they explained, law school was three years. Yep, and I had a four year degree, a three-semester legal assistant course which included courses in law of evidence and similar subjects, and a national professional certification gained by passing two days of tests. Counting graduate work, I had more education than either one of them. Having stated the evidence, I smiled and walked out of the room, leaving them both looking a little stunned. I try not play oneupsmanship games, but that was a fine moment.