December 15
All I remember was the guy in the Cookie Monster slingshot.
1964
The sun shines again! Mr. W didn’t check our notebooks. By the way - it’s 12:00 PM. I have been doing my English homework. Tomorrow I’ll be ready for whatever comes - I hope! Well I’ve had a hard day today - Good night.
Comment 2022
Finally, a partial page. Whatever else happened that day, it was eclipsed by my second chance at escaping the Wrath of W. So at midnight, having caught up on whatever busy work he had assigned, I was completely done in.
Here’s the thing about homework. Back in the day, we didn’t have real homework until fifth grade. Yes, we had spelling words to learn and times tables to memorize, but the proof of our having studied was in the results of spelling tests and math quizzes. In fifth grade, I got my first book bag (navy blue waterproof fabric with bright red trim) and my first real homework assignments. By that I mean exercises or problems to be completed at home and handed in the next day. At first, it was exciting! I was a big kid, with my fancy book bag and my little spiral memo book.
It got old real fast. I don’t know what educational theorist decided that homework was a good thing, but with rare exceptions, it is not. It is boring and usually meaningless, except as an entry in the teacher’s grade book. (And as a teacher, I detested all that bean counting, so I stopped.)
By the time my own children were in school, homework had not only metastasized in the number and length of assignments, but had spread to first grade and even below. The reason I was given for my five-year-old daughter having worksheets to bring home in her tragically large backpack was that it would accustom her to homework. When I heard this, my immediate thought was “Bullshit!”. My biggest regret is that I didn’t say it out loud.
1981
Tonight we (18 graduate students and faculty, all women, are going to a male strip joint, the Hangar Club.
I am definitely used to the idea of being pregnant now. That took a while. Now I barely think about it, except when I do my exercises or a few other obviously sort-oriented times.
My current focus is on how long before I feel it move. It’s moving now, so they say. I just can’t feel it. Hello, little boy or girl. Our slight preference is for a boy, since Jim’s brother has two girls and Bob also has a girl. But it’s fine either way. It’s like being asked to choose between fudge ripple and chocolate chip ice cream. Either way I get something I like.
Comment 2023
Oh, man, the Hangar Club. All I remember was the guy in the Cookie Monster slingshot.
1984
I had a nice time yesterday with Mom. The weather was pleasant and the National Museum Association proposal was dropped off in better circumstances than last year, when it was cold and blustery. Maybe the proposal will get a cheerful reception.
Kiddo is sick to her stomach, for the first time in nearly a year and a half. I’ve almost forgotten how to treat it. It does leave me with a weird Saturday today. Not “free” but unplanned. I’ll still end up getting work done, but I am not sure what, exactly, I’ll be able to do.