January 8th, 2004

Student Evaluations

[Hey, it's my favorite song randomly selected in iTunes!]

Laura recently posted some interesting evaluations of our English major that exiting students turned in. I'm gratuitously linking to it because the last one made my day, despite the strange typo:
"Dr. B******'s Lit Analysis course is truly one I'll never forget. Yes, Dr. B taught me to analyze the staples of literature -- Sir Philip Sidney, Don DeLillo, Rilke. On the other hand, he also taught me to analyze works most English professors overlook as literature -- the Eagles' 'Hotel California,' Daniel Clowes' graphic novel David Boring, the Baffler's take on pop culture, and my personal favorite, Steve Albini's essay on recording rock music. I remember tha, during a class discussion one students asked why we would nother to analyze stuff like that. Dr. B replied that he felt that he should teach us to analyze things we might not otherwise think significant because, in our lives, we should analyze everything. That statement has always stuck in my mind, and it has helped me to achieve my goals."
We all need sustenance, right? I feel that I've been sufficiently fed to return to my classroom duties after a semester off.


Buddy, a.k.a. Thing One, has taken in recent months to dragging one of Kim's sweaters about the house, largely in our absence. It's an endearing habit. We've naturally assumed that he does this because he's drawn to the smell of his surrogate "Mom."

Lying on the sofa reading just now, however, I was disturbed to witness him enter the room with the sweater -- I heard the Poe-like rustle of the dragging first -- in his mouth, then proceed to repeatedly "kill" it with sharp bites to the "neck."

Do cats also suffer the confusion of love and murder? Or is that just the Gabriél Garcia Marquez talking?
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Go Bears!

I'm about to go run some errands. After that, I reconvene with the family at home, then head down to campus to go watch Cal play the Wildcats in men's basketball with Eric.

Jack has once again proved himself the most reliable of friendly former students by thinking of me enough to give me his tickets. I'm sure part of the reason is that Arizona has played their best when I'm in attendance. I'm some sort of good luck charm.

Only not for my team, sadly.

Still, it will be fun to see our talented-but-inconsistent freshmen live. I'll refrain from my usual prediction about how much we're going to lose by -- a strange ritual designed to produce the opposite effect -- because everyone knows we have no chance this time around.

There, I did it anyway.

Go Bears!

Win one for the school where even the frat and sorority types had 4.0 GPAs in high school; for a climate that requires the wearing of clothing; for the drum circle in Lower Sproul; for Amoeba; for UPB; for the Campanile looming out of the fog; for the reading room in the library; for the Eucalyptus grove; for the always-broken escalator at Berkeley Bart; for memories of the hideous bagel dog at the Neutron Bakery; for Wulf Zendik's clan; for Barrington; for me.

Go Bears, not cats.

Go Bears!
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