1. So last night I had this harmless dream about the Obama family and Barack Obama had a son about six feet six tall with curly/wavy brown hair who I recognized as my former student Nathan. I was fun thinking about Nathan as a member of the first family and I liked how Pres.-elect Obama jived Nathan about being a white kid from Newport as he put an encouraging arm around his shoulder. I woke up this morning smiling about Nathan Obama and went to work and conducted my 10:00 World Lit class, thinking I hadn't seen Nathan since midsummer when I was out walking Snug and Nathan was on his bike and stopped to tell me about his plans to work hard and move to Germany to live with his brother and focus his energies on writing and art so I went to my office after class and was fiddling around when I heard a knock on the door.
It was Nathan Obama.
2. Lately I'd been thinking about a student of mine from the 1990's who took all my composition courses and some Shakespeare, too, because I see a woman around school whose looks resemble hers and after today's swim through The Ramayana in World Lit I didn't even get to my office before, lo and behold, there was Marge. I hadn't seen her in at least ten years, she'd been on my ind, and as if on cue, she appeared. Freaky. I'd been on her mind, too, and she decided to stop by and see how I'd been and to tell me the latest about her life as a mother, a resident of Salem, and her continuing struggles with MS.
3. Sooo, I went over to Margaret's office after Nathan Obama shuffled off and we were talking about mental health and teaching and our team teaching when one of our Fat Cats students popped in, out of nowhere, and Cassie told us about her idealism and her blunt honesty in workplaces and the difficulty she was having holding jobs down and what was she going to do with the rest of her life, anyway: Did we have any ideas? MB did. I didn't. I was too preoccupied with how freaky it was that Cassie just showed up at the same time MB and I were discussing our teaching of the very course Cassie took from us two years ago.
4. As the evening stretched out, I read deeper and deeper into my World Lit. students' Antigone essays, a deep pleasure. I got to NMc's paper. Neil writes his papers from a feminist perspective and Antigone was a banquet of fine food for getting his feminist groove on. His essay provoked, stimulated, and stretched me. About three quarters into his essay, NMc addressed his displeasure with women feminists who claimed men couldn't be feminists. I gulped. Freaky. Only three hours earlier, I had taken on the same subject in this blog post. Freaky.