The bitch queen of the Universe

This is Calliope Jones. Don't let her adorable little Caliconess give you the idea that she is sweet. This precious exterior houses the spawn of Satan himself.

It took a while after Kabal Alexander, the Wonder cat, died for Kevin to warm to the idea of getting another cat, but Puck was lonely and his constant meowing in search for his big brother was driving us crazy. So, we went to the pet store to look at the shelter cats, and there she was. She pawed at the window and made baby cries. Her tag said she was 6 months old, but she looked smaller, younger. Her mewling baby cries were adorable and we decided to give her a shot.

When she peed on me while I was sleeping that first night, we forgave her due to the fact that she was so young and probably wasn't well box trained. (She has repeated this act a few times, and usually when her litterbox isn't up to standard.) Her predilection for suckling on fingers led us to believe she had been taken from her mother at a very young age.

After a terse period with Puck, they soon were sharing beds and food dishes. She fit in well, but was shy around strangers and indifferent to me. She loves Kevin. He is her human.

Because she is long haired, we find ourselves cleaning up hairballs nearly daily. Gross, but we can handle it. She barely eats anything and thumbs her nose at almost every wet food we offer.

The main reason she is a bitch is her attention whoriness. Attention is on her terms and if you don't pay attention when she wants it, she lashes out with vampire fangs that tear into your skin. I am sure she is only trying to emulate Puck's habit of a gentle nip to get my hand to pet him, but she doesn't understand his restraint.

Her favorite place to seek love is at the foot of the bed. In fact that is pretty much where she lives. Usually, when I am getting ready for work, and she will pace back and forth. If I offer a pet and then turn my back, if she is desparate, she will lunge and sink her fangs into the nearest body part. So far my elbows, hands and wrists bear the mark of her insanity.

But, she is ours. We know how to live with her. I guess people get used to crazy. After all, Kevin has been with me for 17 years.

posted from Bloggeroid


Panera and <I> Not Reading</I>

This is where I work in the morning. I have a bagel and a coffee and read an article (usually about pedagogy) as I eat and when I'm done, I will open up my laptop and look at curriculum options.

I read an interesting article in the English journal about students not reading. It discusses how through comprehension questions and common essay tests, teachers give their students permission to not read the materials and instead use the internet and study guides like SparkNotes or Cliffs Notes. The article, by Robert Broz, says that to combat not reading that teachers need to focus on reading journals and small group discussion where students negotiate meaning for themselves, rather than study guides with binary answers and teacher led discussions that let students glean information from the teacher rather than think for themselves and then regurgitate that information back on tests and in essays. This article inspires me and scares me at the same time. I think this is a great idea, but I can just imagine the student resistance to the idea that they actually have to read. It will also require that I move away from the publisher provided ancillary materials and make my students responsible for their own learning. I know that I will return to my table at Panera this summer. I will take my textbook, my lesson plan book and a new outlook on teaching. Watch this space for updates on my journey. Tory