Mister Fweem's Blog: Skunked Again

Friday, April 1, 2011

Skunked Again

Maybe this is BYU-Idaho's idea of an April Fools Day joke. But somehow I doubt it.

I had high hopes, folks. Hopes that I'd be able to use the online teacher training I got waaaaay back in August 2010 to finally teach an online English course at BYU-Idaho this spring. Alas, when I checked this morning, the five students who had registered for the course had all disappeared from my class list, leaving me with no one, repeat, NO ONE, with whom I could impart my vast, vast knowledge of writing and communicating and such. As well as my humility.

Now I know how Ralphie Parker felt each time he checked his mailbox for the Little Orphan Annie Secret Circle Decoder Pin. Skunked again.

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The Reading Pile

Christmas Box Miracle, The; by Richard Paul Evans. 261 pages.
Morbid Tase for Bones, A; by Ellis Peters. 265 pages.
Peanuts by the Decade, the 1970s; by Charles Schulz. 490 pages
Rakkety Tam, by Brian Jacques. 372 pages.
Rickover Effect, The, by Theodore Rockwell. 411 pages.
Road to Freedom, The; by Shawn Pollock. 212 pages.
There's Treasure Everywhere, by Bill Watterson. 173 pages.
Trolls of Wall Street, The; by Nathaniel Popper, 339 pages.
Undaunted Courage, by Stephen E. Ambrose. 521 pages.

The Best Part

Catch You Later, Traitor, by Avi

“Pete,” said Mr. Ordson, “we live in a time of great mistrust. This is not always a bad thing. People should question things. However, in my experience, too much suspicion undermines reason.” I shook my head, only to remember he couldn’t see me. “There’s a big difference,” he went on, “between suspicion and paranoia.” “What’s . . . paranoia?” “An unreasonable beliefe that you are being persecuted. For example,” Mr. Ordson went on,” I’m willing to guess you’ve even considered me to be the informer. After all, you told me you were going to follow your father. Perhaps I told the FBI.” Startled, I stared at him. His blank eyes showed nothing. Neither did his expression. It was as if he had his mask on again. “Have you considered that?” he pushed. “No,” I said. But his question made me realize how much I’d shared with him. Trusted him. How he’d become my only friend. And he was the only one I hoad told I was going to follow my dad. Maybe he did tell the FBI. He said, “I hope you get my point.” Silcence settled around us. Loki looked around, puzzled. Mr. Ordson must have sensed what I was thinking because he said, “Now, Pete, you don’t really have any qualms about me, do you?”

Yes, perlious times then. Who to trust? And perlious times now, with paranoia running even deeper than during the Red Scare . . .

Friday, April 1, 2011

Skunked Again

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