Drake Among Fall Leaves

A national teachers union wants to create a rigorous professional exam for K-12 teachers that would serve the same function as the bar exam for lawyers. When I told Anne about a ‘bar exam’ for teachers, she said that she knew plenty of teachers that could pass an exam at a bar, say at Las Palmas, The Wood, or even the VFW Hall, because they have cheap beer. We all know that on a teacher’s salary cheap beer is an important consideration when it comes to bar exams. Anne of course, was only joking about the teacher’s bar exam. She then announced that she has fourteen days of school left until Christmas vacation. Excuse me, I mean winter break. I’m left wondering what took her so long to first voice her countdown.

Anne is healing slowly from her bicycle accident last month, but Anne tends to do most things slowly, except when it comes to things she wants to do and I am only lukewarm about. This is especially true early in the morning, but I digress. The title of this post is derived from the shorthand for capitalization and punctuation. Anne usually proof reads my post, but since she has been hanging with the fourth grade for so long, her once stringent editorial standards have relaxed a bit. After reading yesterday’s post, I asked her if she saw any errors. She said my Cap-Punc looked much better than her fourth grader’s and then she reread the post for content. Woo-Hoo! I’m smarter than a fourth grader. Wasn’t there a TV game show based upon that premise? [Fifth grade, fourth grade, what’s the difference? Why let the facts get in the way of a good story?] Maybe more accurately, I can claim: I write better than a fourth grader.

So, with my laze about day, except for all of the bicycling, I had the psychic energy to write a second post, this one. It’s after dinner and Anne the family chocolatier asked me if I wanted chocolate for dessert. I said that that was a stupid question, but then I corrected myself and said that there are no stupid questions. Anne then corrected me again, there are no stupid questions, just less than inspired ones. Like when after she has explained an exercise to her class and asks, “Are there any questions?” This response is less than inspired stupid [IMHO], “Can I go to the bathroom?” 

Anne clued me into the following YouTube video. I guess as counterpoint to the rant that she voiced and I recorded. In my way more humble opinion, I choose now to recant. Maybe, I am not smarter than a fourth grader. I’ve got to believe that somewhere in Dalton Sherman’s ancestry, there is a preacher man. He has the gift. I feel cap-punked now.