Pssst. Pssssssssst!
Stained Glass Woman is back on Monday. Pass it on!
Pssst. Pssssssssst!
Stained Glass Woman is back on Monday. Pass it on!
Someone just told me that were trigender, then described it as:
"Part of me is a woman, part is a man, and part is *computer dialup noises."
And that may be my favorite description of gender ever.
Hey, you.
Yeah, you.
Yes, you, specifically.
If you're an egg and you know you're an egg, you've already hatched. You're just afraid of the consequences of being trans.
This is why teaching is hard these days. They've turned our love for our students into exploitation, our compassion into profit, and our hope for the future into understaffing.
I love teaching.
It also often makes me want to cry.
My wife's best friend for twenty years visited us this weekend. She's great.
But there's also this pang of sadness for me, because I've never had a friend remotely like that. And it was because of me, to be clear--how I made myself into nothingness before I came out to myself.
Still, a sadness.
So I'm going through last semester's teaching evals to satisfy some paperwork, and I open my first class' report. Under the "What are the strengths of the course?" section, I get:
"Dr. W is the strength of this course"
"Dr. W made sure that every single lecture you attended mattered."
🥹
Every semester, I have to stop my students when they try to go "you can just--" in my technical writing courses.
Nope. Everything that ever comes after that opening bit is *always* coming from your specialized knowledge. If someone could, they would've already. They wouldn't be asking for help.