Well kids it's that time of year again: Tonight I start my fall master's class
As has been well established, I'm no math genius. But somehow "one for the price of two" doesn't seem like a great deal. Whatever.
I even considered skipping a semester, on principle, but a cooler head prevailed (Noah's), so back to school I go.
Speaking of school, guess what? Noah got that special assignment. His first lessons—three fifth-grade classes at the brand-spanking-new (wait, no spanking, just new) elementary school around the corner from our house—were today. I think I got a taste of what being a teacher is like last night when Noah ran out to buy some stickers for his students (I hear
Me: Is this about drugs? For the anti-drug part?
Me: (in best Dwight Schrute voice) Have you ever...pooped...a balloon?
Turns out the balloons were for an exercise about self-esteem. How does one use a balloon to teach about self-esteem? I'll give you a hint: Last night I drew two cartoonish eyeballs on a yellow balloon named Stanley. Figure that one out.
Project for today: Go buy yourself a balloon, blow it up, draw on it with a sharpie, then let it slowly deflate, and enjoy the magic that ensues. You're welcome.
Um, I saw that Twitter update regarding the, uh...how to put this delicately...cavity search and I was afraid.
You tell Noah to be careful out there. This could be his most dangerous assignment yet.
Bwahahahaha! Love. It.
Using schoolkids as drug mules probably pays a lot better than teaching.
May—He made the mistake of The Open-Ended Question, i.e. "And what might I need to wear rubber gloves for?"
Sarah—I've tried several times to convince him that we need to start a cartel.
ohhh schrute bucks!!
Good luck in school!
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