Classes have been going well in these two weeks since the holidays. I've been talking about high school and prom night with the kids after finding a funny little article from Newsweek:
Prom Night Isn't What You Think
They seem to really like it, or at least to be mildly amused by the sorry adventures of our valiant teenager, although he wrote the article before they were born. We begin by discussing their typical image of prom--the romance, the dresses, the perfection, the final scenes of "Twilight"--and then we read the article--disappointment, frustration, a two-year-old tux. Afterward, we talk about the contrast between the two.
In my other fifth year class, we've begun talking about the South, which I hope to follow up next week with some blues and bluegrass. Maybe some Mississippi John Hurt...
When I'm not in class, I've been seeking out a warm place to read. Of course, there are countless cafès and bars, but they are not always welcoming for a long, literary stay. I need a place like the Haymarket in Northampton or La Citè in Florence, a place with coffee and books and magarì a comfy couch, a place where I can go, curl up with a book or some work, and stay for hours. I think once I find that place I will be much happier here...
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