the thermostat on the other side of the room is making ridiculous rythmic hissing noises. i poked at it for a minute and i think it stopped, but i'm not totally convinced that there's not a snake in there.

today i continued to be amazed by how confused i can make kids. this is what you get for sticking a kid with 2 months of real teaching experience and a grand total of one class about special needs kids into a special education room. i keep asking them questions that just don't make any damn sense to a kid with a learning disability. today we spent a good 10 minutes making sure we understood the difference between non-fiction, realistic fiction, and historical fiction. only now do i realize how friggin confusing all of thoes classifications are. realistic and historical fiction could have happened, but they didn't, and the people aren't real. but what about when they make the book into a movie? those people are real. but those people are actors.

what?

i think maybe monday's lesson will just be about post-modern reality and "what does it even mean to be real?" there's gotta be a reason i kept all those zizek books from college, no?

i hope i'm already as far away as the next county if they ever pick up a book that's "based on a true story."

also, don't get me started about how annoying it is that non-fiction is the stuff that is true.