an instructor's best friend

so last night, post-post, i finally gave up grading with 6 essays to go and went to bed at midnight. i managed not to completely fulfill my horoscope--the rage at the disastrous midterm essays* did not, in fact, turn murderous. because i don't know where my students live.**

i realize now, however, that i was not alone in my distress.*** to the contrary, i discovered that Feral Cat, with all her whiny meowing last night, which also irritated me, was actually uttering cries of sympathy and possibly even threats against my students to parallel my own anger.

i know this because, this morning, darren related to me the events of the evening after i went to bed. apparently, for a few moments, Feral was choking in that way that cats do when they have a hairball. gross, i know.

but then, the marvelous Feral Cat walked directly to the stack of essays i had abandoned beside the coffee table and vomited on them.****

all i have to say is, thanks Feral Cat. you read my mind.

and thanks, darren, for cleaning it up so i could carelessly enjoy the poetic justice of it all.

*disastrous because they confirmed my suspicion that 67% of my students have not, in fact, taken advantage of the comments i have so tediously written on their 6 response papers so far. comments which i basically repeated , verbatim, on said midterms (for the last time).

**to be fair, not ALL the essays were bad. in fact, nine students wrote papers that provided such great relief from the verbal wasteland of despair that i joyously gave them A's and even A+'s.

***of course, darren and karen have shared this burden all semester, but that goes without saying.

****fortunately (or not), i had left an unrelated piece of paper on top of the stack, so none of them were actually damaged. but, hey, it's the thought that counts, right?