A brief musing on the things in life that frustrate me today:
Children. Specifically, teenagers. More specifically, my students. My principal made the shrewd observation today that we should never tell the kids when the last week of school is at hand, because it only causes them to act out even more. Today I witnessed a shoving match that involved the F-bomb, as we like to call it, and made my first trip of the day to the office. Later, I watched as a student sat down and a boxcutter! oops! just fell out of his pocket onto the ground. Trip number two to the office was in short order.
My husband. He is teaching the Bear to play catch. This involves her chucking a tennis ball at anything that happens to be in front of her, and him clapping and praising her. I, personally, am of the opinion that we shouldn't be teaching her to throw things, especially toys. This objection was reinforced tonight when she pegged me in the face with a block and literally chortled with glee. I am Going. To. Kill. Him. I'm raising a bully.
Arnold Bender and E.W. Dickes. These two morons have perpetrated what must be the *worst* possible translation of my favorite book ever. I ordered a copy of this online, because God Forbid any bookstores out here should carry it. It's supposed to be a gift for a student, a birthday/parting gift, because she's a truly special kid. Well, I got the long-awaited box in the mail today, cracked it open, and discovered to my horror that all translations from the original German are *not* created equal. These plebian frauds have managed to rob the novel of its haunting, lyrical quality and leave it sounding like it was written by the people at E! True Hollywood Story! So then I had to hunt down a copy of my edition (hardcover, William Morrow, New York, 1953) to purchase used, and I don't know if it will be here in time for graduation, which really irks me, because this book is so effing fabulous, and these men (the nerve!) managed to ruin it. I could never give this edition as a gift to someone I cared about. They should be forced to watch reruns of Saved By The Bell until their brains self-destruct.
Yogurt. Can you feed yogurt to babies? I love yogurt and so does my husband, and so I bought some for the Bear to try (organic, no preservatives or artificial sweeteners), thinking that it might be a nice snack with good calcium. She eats tons of fruits and veggies, but not much of anything else except for her bottles, and so I thought, hey! variety! Well, the result wasn't pretty. It went down ok, and she seemed pretty happy with it. But it came back up with a Vengeance, and I'm not exaggerating. So, what's the deal? Is she allergic? Does yogurt make babies sick? Or was it just the worst possible timing? Coincidence?
And last but not least, people who use the word "reveal" instead of "revelation." It all started with those damn home improvement shows. The always call the moment of truth "The Reveal" instead of the revelation. "Reveal" is a verb, people. It's an action. "Revelation" is what happens when something is revealed. It's a noun. There's a difference! "Are you going to be at the big Reveal on Wednesday?" "Not until you learn to speak properly! Freak!" (The person who committed this most heinous of crimes was, I am ashamed to admit, an English teacher. My only comfort is that she's not a very good one.)