‘It’s a tortoyse,’ said Magrat. ‘I bought it down in Sheepridge market. It’s incredibly old and knows many secrets, the man said.’
‘I know that man,’ said Granny. ‘He’s the one who sells goldfish that tarnish after a day or two.’
‘And the child? He was given to the witches? Do they do human sacrifice?’
‘It would appear not,’ said the duke. The duchess looked vaguely disappointed.
I am deep in the throes of the Second Week (i.e. crazy-time).
Half way through my evening class an older woman comes in demanding to know if this is where the math class is. She gave me one of those looks that said I couldn’t possibly be the one teaching the class. I mean, I’m now in my mid thirties, come on people.
So, I asked who she was, which was apparently offensive. Theoretically, anyone registering after the first week is supposed to get permission… That clearly didn’t happen.
Anyway, I attempted to get her started, but she didn’t want to use the computer. So, at this point I’m thinking, lady, you are so screwed. There are no lecture classes at all for this level of math. I couldn’t give her my undivided attention, ‘cuz I have a class full of students who have been there working for a week who need my help. So she actually had to do something for herself.
She spent the rest of class loudly complaining about EVERYTHING. Not asking for help, but trying to be the center of attention. There are very few things students can do to push my buttons at this point, but she found the one thing that does. I completely understand that this type of acting out comes from a place of fear and insecurity. However, this is a semi-self-paced class (system-paced, if you are in the know). Everyone is trying to do their own work and get the help they need. Disturbing other students is just not okay in my book. And she clearly was trying to get my undivided attention by disturbing the rest of the class, which was not happening.
I did my standard very calm explanations when she explicitly asked for help and ignoring her when she didn’t. Which works well. The other students quickly ignored her, thankfully (there were some looks, but nothing else). Evening classes tend to be full of serious students.
I could tell that she was at least beginning to figure out that this is a serious class and I don’t put up with shit. She will most likely drop, or refuse to do the work and be dropped. I just don’t understand why any advisor would put someone strait into a math course completely taught on computers when that person doesn’t like computers. She was definitely the type to insist though, so it might not have been the advisor’s fault. All it means is a few uncomfortable classes with someone who doesn’t want to be there. Either she will figure it out or more likely she will leave. This particular type of student tends not to like me because I will not put up with their bullshit. So they go find a different instructor to terrorize.
Argh! Okay, done ranting. Time for sleeping.
Granny ruminated on this for a while and then she said, ‘Old Goodie Whemper, she didn’t get out and about much, did she?’
‘It was her leg, you know,’ said Magrat.
‘But she taught you all the midwifery and everything?’
‘Oh, yes, that,’ said Magrat. ‘I done lots.’
‘But—’ Granny hesitated, groping her way across unfamiliar territory – ‘she never talked about what you might call the previous.’
‘You know,’ said Granny, with an edge of desperation in her voice. ‘Men and such.’
Magrat looked as if she was about to panic. ‘What about them?’