Language Arts

It seems in school the subjects people hate are divided into two main groups; those who hate math and science and those who hate history and language arts.   I was in the latter category.   I don't know if it's called Language Arts today, but that's what it was called when I was in school.

My mother was a math teacher and my father was a science teacher.  Given my heritage, it follows that I would like math and science.  I didn't hate history, I just found it dull, boring, and a lot of memorization of past events I cared little about.  But English was frustrating.  I didn't enjoy writing papers.  Grammar didn't make sense, and more to the point, I didn't understand why it mattered.  I liked reading stories, but the books assigned were always terribly dull.  I never enjoyed English, no matter how engaging and friendly the teacher was.

Before I get to the point of this post, I'm going to digress and talk about two specific memories I have from English class.  Both were from a very kind teacher I had in high school.  We were assigned Crime and Punishment to read.  What a dark and dreary book.  But the best day of the whole project was when she brought in a record player and played the Russian character names and had us repeat them back.  These characters had long multi-syllabic names that were both exotic and foreign.  To this day, I don't remember the character, but I remember how to pronounce his name--Arkady Ivanovich Svidrigailov's name.

My other memory was from the same teacher.  I don't know the book, I don't know the context but sex must have come up at some point and she explained that at that time in history, women weren't suppose to enjoy sex.  On their wedding night, a woman was suppose to "close her eyes and think of England."  How awful, how tantalizing, how unexpected to have a teacher speak about sex to her class.  I'll always remember her standing in front of the class trying to help us understand.

Now, where was I?  Ah, how much I disliked Language Arts.  I did.  I hated all things related to language.  And yet now I want to be able to write well.  I am fascinated by the intricacies of  the English language.  I'm intrigued by words; I love grammar.  Some days I even think I would like to be a writer (of course, I come to my senses in short order, but you get the picture.)

It's one of the reasons I've taken on this blog.   It gives me a reason to write, to see if I can type words and have them make sense, to try and be interesting, even if only to myself.  One month later, I think I made the right decision when I pressed the Create button to start this Blog.  I don't think I'll ever be a writer, but at least I'm writing something.

The Big Boy Update: From baby to boy.   He's still a baby.  Definitely a baby.  But in comparison to his sister, he's a full grown boy.  Soon, I expect he'll be climbing out of his crib and demanding the keys to the car.  It's really amazing how quickly they change and how fast they grow.

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  So cute in pink.  I don't like pink.  I didn't want pink.   I hoped to dress her in anything but pink.  But damn, she looks good in pink.  I'm a changed person.  Pink creeped up on me and now I'm a fan.   Six months ago, I would have shunned pink right out of this house.   Times and situations can change your perspective.