So I had a couple of moments at CMU (note to Googlers: not Carnegie Mellon or Central Michigan) that I do not think I will ever forget.
First, I ran into one of my old freshymen, a little plumpster named Bo, outside one of the dining halls and we were talking about how she didn't like her teacher because he talked too fast. I was giving her suggestions on how to ask him to slow down, when all of a male freshman in his little purple tie comes up to me and goes, "Excuse me, can I help you?"
"With what?" I asked.
"Who are you?" he asked me, suspicious.
"I am her old teacher."
"Oh!" he said, then he bowed quickly and ran away.
Just another in an ego-crippling series of incidents in which people mistake me for a child molester.
But what I will really never forget happened in the class, and I am happy to announce that, for once, I made it through a class without being accused of pedophilia.
So today I started playing the songs from the Pitchfork Top 500 of the Last Decade. And in the first class that I did it, I totally surprised them--they thought we were doing straight workbook activities--and they were super happy. So I dimmed the lights, projected the lyrics to "Neighborhood #1 (Tunnels)" onto the screen, and played The Arcade Fire.
It was a special moment. Lazy sports columnists always talk about electricity in the air, and it is all I can think of, too. Just tons of giggling and absolute astonishment--at the quality of the song or at the fact of the exercise, I don't know. But it felt great.
I haven't gotten the results back yet, but my predictions:
First Place: Beyonce "Crazy in Love"
Last Place: Radiohead "Idioteque"
Cnn.com headline: "Women and children last."
Some other images from today I can't get out of my head:
Prae in the front row, in the semi-darkness, mouthing the words "Four words and adobe slats...for my girls" each time they were sung in the Animal Collective song.
The way Nim pointed at her watch to complain about how long "One More Time" by Daft Punk was; the way she started dancing in her seat when Crazy in Love came on.
Oh, also, today I used the projector that attaches to the computer in one of my rooms for the first time ever, as the Whiteboard was out of markers.
What a mistake to have never used it early:
When I started typing, my students started FREAKING OUT at how fast I was typing. Nop was doing his best impression of me--sitted straight up, my fingers moving a thousand miles an hour, the keys making a noies like "Bop bop bop bop bop"--and for an awful reason I could only think of Sacha Baron Cohen in the opening credits to the TV version of Borat, when he shows how to use a cell phone, and there are no wires ANYWHERE AROUND IT, you can just talk!
Anyway, they looked at me like I was a wizard, a genius. I think I am going to use that contraption every class from now on, just to remind them all who is boss, and who can type really, really fast.
Ajarn Jason, bitch.