I would not wish ill on anyone, ever, but I doubt that Mary Jo Kopechne’s family has the same opinion of him that is being expressed here. Nor do I.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xmc8gDzk2sg&feature=related Makes me cry every time. The good kind.

Speaking of tampons: the middle school restroom machine was always empty, and the office policy was “no supplies supplied.” The bottom drawer of my left-hand file cabinet contained “girl stuff.” I whispered that fact to one girl on the first day of school and by lunchtime they all knew where they could get “things” in case of emergency. For some of the girls, of course, each time was an emergency because their parents bought cigarettes and beer for themselves and expected the school to supply everything else. Did I digress again? Oopsies. I also kept little WalMart bags in there so the girls didn’t have to walk down the hall toting a napkin or tampon. I miss those middle school students terribly, but I could not deal with the public school peripherals. The administration literally sucked all the joy and wonder out of the classroom, and made creativity askance. 26 years was about 20 years too many. It used to give me blazingly wonderful joy. The last few years only gave me horrific headaches and high blood pressure. It also made me despise the union with hatred so severe it could be bottled and used to rival the atom bomb.

“Auntie Mame.”

Retirement? Death. I simply can’t imagine not working at something!

Sorry, Maurine, but every student knows that writing notes is taking a big risk that the whole school might eventually know what he wrote. You choose to do it anyway, you take the fall. I have often wondered, however, how many gems of pure literature are immediately wadded up and discarded by teachers with no soul. I always read the confiscated notes; it gave me insight and it told me where the drug deals were going down and it told me where the blow jobs were being given and it gave me names. It also, a time or two, told me who was desolate to the point of suicide. But the fact remains that kids KNOW that passing notes is forbidden; if they choose to do it anyway, let the chips fall where they may. Now, it’s texting that drives teachers crazy, and half of that comes from Mommy at home. We even get calls from Mommy telling the office to tell the teacher to tell Billy to turn on his phone so he can get her messages. Such idiocy. But I digress. Let us not discount the creativity of our children. Until they are stifled by ridiculous rules (not to be confused with the reasonable rules) and standardized testing and adults with no comprehension or memory of how it is to be young, our children are full of art and music and literature. Mary Poppins knew it. Why are we so adamant in stamping out what could potentially be so wonderful? Prodigies were once celebrated, allowed to go to Harvard at age eleven, honored; now, they are forced to sit and endure the mundane of a mixed-ability classroom until they lose all hope of ever advancing. But I digress again. Kids will always pass notes. It’s apparently worth the risk, and often they beat the odds. Older kids will always text, until something else is invented that makes it even easier. As long as parents allow their kids to defy the school’s rules and bring such things to the classroom, it’s going to keep happening. Oops, have I digressed again? I’m good at that.

Professionally? I admire what she’s done. Personally? No. Not now.

There are still those - and there are more of us than you might think - who believe in self control and respect for others, and a person of either gender who, of his/her own free will, because he/she WANTS to, betrays someone else by presuming to sleep with his/her spouse is neither a lady nor a gentleman. Such people are self-indulgent and selfish, and apparently care nothing whatsoever for the feelings of others: only that their own wants are satisfied. Lady? Absolutely not, except in the sense of Disney’s “Lady.” Gentleman? Not by any stretch of the imagination. Outdated? Antediluvian? Old-fashioned? I don’t think so. I believe it’s mostly that the media likes to focus on those who see no problem with the kind of people who have “affairs,” because the rest of us aren’t scandalous and, therefore, our lives don’t bring in the big bucks to those who traffic in spreading the word about how cool, modern, and trendy immorality is to people who desperately want to make what they’ve chosen to do with their lives respectable.

Oh, you really don’t want to get me started on euphemisms and PC. Seriously, you don’t. They are one of my biggest peeves. I believe they cheapen the language, and are overflowing with condescension. Oops, I started, didn’t I… .

I thought she was a lady. My bad. And no, not everyone cavorts beneath the sheets with someone else’s spouse, and not everyone thinks it’s awesome when other people do. I had a lot of respect for BW. And please don’t tell me it’s romantic, or unavoidable, or cool, or an accident. It is, however, a choice. Adultery is always an active choice.

Even if I had been the biggest Hilary supporter in the world, after the barrage of phone calls and tasteless post cards (Apparently, Hilary won’t be a green president) we’ve been getting these past few weeks, I could not in all conscience vote for such a person. Just as “… abusing the devil and giving God advice” is not really praying, so “… maligning the opponent and intruding into people’s homes” is not really campaigning. It’s harassment. I live in Indiana, and I’m voting for Obama. (I’d really rather vote for Ron Paul, but as he hasn’t a chance, I’ll vote for Obama.)

When we stop laughing, they might as well bury us. The better part of us would be dead, anyway.

Carol L, yes, that’s me on the Carnival of Education! Thank you for laughing!

You know why blonde jokes are so simple, don’t you? So men can understand them. Lighten up, ladies. Life is funny all over the place, and laughter has the power to make the corncob fall out. And we KNOW there really are people like that, so why shouldn’t the rest of us have a laugh at their expense? I certainly don’t pity or sympathize with the woman OR the man in that commercial; to me, they’re both idiots and as such deserve our laughter.

Edith Ann, my darling, we are all angry and we all have the same choices: let it explode all over other people, denying them and ourselves a lot of joy;, or control it. People who learn to control it get invited out more, and after a certain age - 6 - public displays of temper make people think you’re just a big whiny baby, and they don’t like to sit by you or play with you or marry you, and if they do marry you, they live to regret it because only adults should marry, and people who still have temper tantrums are not adults. While you’re still little, just think of a bad temper as the thing that makes everybody say “No!” whenever you ask for ice cream or carnivals or another piece of pie. Because, my dear, if you scream for it, you don’t deserve it.