So. New Orleans got by with less of a scathing than I had feared (far, of course, from unscathed), but the Mississippi (and, to a lesser extent, Alabama) coasts got hammered, it seems. Spare a thought for the folks of "the coast" (as we used to call it in Hattiesburg).

I have to say that, bullshit aside, I would have evacutated. No car, no bus, no one to hitch with? No nothing? I. Would have. Walked. North.

Having said that, would it have killed the Man to roll around with buses and said "get in!" rather than just saying "find a way out!"? I think not. The Man should feel guilty.



In other news, Scott ("I know what I know", at right) prompts us for our worst first day of teaching. Here is (not) mine.

Today I had my first meeting with a group of three folks I'm taking over from a colleague who is out with the baby-having disease. I shudder at the realization that they will be mine for the indefinite future. Why? Well. I will recreate a "conversation" with the students which I exaggerate for effect:

ME: "My name is Greg."
THEM: blank stares, the sound of crickets chirping even though we are on the sixth floor.
ME: "Ummmm, I am Greg. [gesturing to self with hand] My name is Greg. Greg is my name."
THEM: blank stares, the sound of crickets chirping even though we are on the sixth floor.
ME: "OK. Ich heiße Greg. My name is Greg."
THEM: "Ohhhhhh!" [write, write, write]

These folks are, shall we say, beginners.

These folks are precisely the sort of folks I was thinking of when I said to myself and others, at one point, that I would rather tie on a pecker and go peck shit with the chickens than to teach a language.

Sigh.