I think I am losing my mind.

Or it may be mid-semester blues, a new psychological disorder for the DSM-IV or V, coming to a desktop in your town, soon. I am not good at toadying, and it looks like that is the only way to get an A in Joel's Critical Thinking class. Erin did a good job today, telling the little prick that his is an interesting class in a sea of yawning boredom. Little guy got all puffed up at that remark. OK, I'm a little miffed. We got a B+ on our paper, the boys and I, and I think that was probably fair. It was a little disjointed, as we each contributed a portion. But he quibbled, like a rat eating away at a hunk of cheese. Did I really think that it was not just a coincidence than the 9/11 bomobings happen on the date that reflects our national emergency number, 911? Well, duh. Honestly, I hope I get to do one paper on my own, soon, so I can shine out like a beacon from the depths. Oh, hell, if I do, it will not illuminate whatever he thinks is the most worthy of illumination. We will never be on the same page, teacher mine. I don't think that is a particularly bad thing, except for that damned grade thing. Must keep plodding along, and decide if I want to bend over and pucker up, or stand tall and risk getting chopped down. T'is a puzzlment.