Not Grading Papers

If you locked me up in an empty room with only a bunch of essays and a purple pen (We don't use red anymore, because it's too "alarming."), I'd make a paper Stonehenge. I'd use the pen as a knitting needle and knit a paper scarf, even though I think knitting is dumb and post-trendy in the worst way. I'd build a solar-powered, non-flammable, paper house. Because everything amazing and impressive and foolish and useless I've done started as a way to avoid something else. Who's with me?

Pile of essays next to me now! Am blogging! Even though have not done so for like: a year? And, yes, I will go ahead and say it: I would rather engage in child care than grading papers. I know that seems extreme. But, there you have it. I know that some of you may not think grading papers is so unpleasant. But that is only because you aren't teachers. It's an acquired hatred.

Sometimes when I'm avoiding something, I decide that I am a misunderstood artiste. I can't draw a straight line, but that doesn't stop me. When I was in college, I went through a found art phase. I made a 3-D model (Of what? I do not know.) out of my boyfriend's jeans which I nailed to the wall of my living room. I was big on nails at that time. I also found this broken sink in the street which I brought home and glued into a new shape and melted crayons all over. I used a lighter to melt the wax and gave myself a bunch of burns all over my fingers, but I persisted. I called it "Sunrise." It was, unfortunately, too heavy to nail to the wall, though I tried, and the 24th time it fell off it broke irreparably. Probably for the best. Also, I would fuck shit up and say it was art. I didn't like the shape of the lamp? No problem! I would nail the lamp shade to the wall so that it angled right. I would bend and break shit. I broke a brick in half (Do not ask how.) and did something with duct tape and acrylics. Whatever. As long as I wasn't doing my homework.

Ari yelling "A bunch of cheese sticks!"

This morning instead of grading, I have Face-booked and emailed and played with my child (!) and stalked all of my exes (even the men!) and trolled the inter-webs for wrinkle cream reviews and shopped for birthday gifts for my son and done a thousand other things which produced no actual progress in anything.

My son is watching Dora and keeps shouting "A bunch of cheese sticks!" when he's supposed to say "Map!"  and then laughing so hard he falls out of the chair. Little rebel. I have to say I encourage this behavior. I don't tell him it's creative or anything. I'm not one of those parents who thinks it's genius whenever their kid takes a leak. But I laugh with him. Because, of course, it's better than grading papers. Way better.