Intrepid Girl Reporter

Monday, 4/28: as for you, Phil Donahue
April 28, 2008, 4:43 pm
Filed under: IGR Recommends, skool, students, teaching, the future
I don’t have any class notes to post today because I was too aggravated to write any down, which is unfortunate. I wanted to poke my students in the eye today. I am not going to lie. My school has just now separated the first graders into high/low levels, which means that the kids are in classes that are approximately half composed of new people, which means that they’re loud and obnoxious and refuse to listen to me even when I hold Co-Teacher B’s microphone to the portable speaker and make really unacceptable feedback noises. CTB was like, “Well, I dock their grades.” This does not work for me for obvious reasons. Then after school one of them was supposed to be cleaning and was actually twirling his mop handle like some sort of baton and whacked me in the shin. That was fun.

While I generally prefer a mic-free class, though, CTC’s microphone does make me feel rather enjoyably like a talk-show host, striding out into the audience and having students answer. What they probably don’t realize is that in my head, all the other students function as the studio audience.*

On that note, I’d like to recommend a particularly good story from a recent episode of This American Life that I recently discussed with one of my Program friends in Jeonju. I believe the episode itself is a rerun. The first story involves the rise and fall (and rise, and fall) of one Jerry Springer. You have to stream it from the website if you don’t want to pay. Highly recommended listening.


  • one more CL draft completed
  • potentially awesome Green Eggs/Ham lesson planned
  • emailed travel agent re: KoreanAir
  • uh.

Here is a poem by Audre Lorde. I’m not sure that I totally understand all of it yet, but I like it.


Audre Lorde

is the total black, being spoken
from the earth’s inside.
There are many kinds of open
how a diamond comes into a knot of flame
how sound comes into a words, coloured
by who pays what for speaking.
Some words are open like a diamond
on glass windows
singing out within the crash of sun
Then there are words like stapled wagers
in a perforated book – buy and sign and tear apart –
and come whatever will all chances
the stub remains
an ill-pulled tooth with a ragged edge.
Some words live in my throat
breeding like adders. Other know sun
seeking like gypsies over my tongue
to explode through my lips
like young sparrows bursting from shell.
Some words
bedevil me
Love is a word, another kind of open.
As the diamond comes into a knot of flame
I am Black because I come from the earth’s inside
Now take my word for jewel in the open light.

*This reminds me of this Christopher Walken SNL skit that no one else seems to remember called “Jenny Jones,” or, alternately, “You Called Me A Geek, Now I’m Super Chic!” Our friend Christopher plays an extremely vocal audience guest, and I seem to remember thinking that it was just incredibly funny. But it was cut from syndication of the episode and there are very few mentions of it online, so evidently I was the only one.

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