Writing Center Randomness
To accurately reflect the caffeine-fueled, anxiety-riddled, psychedelic-Christmas light altered state that is the Writing Center during finals week, I thought I’d post a glimpse into the scattered images and thoughts bouncing off the walls here at Santa’s Workshop, er, I mean the Writing Center.
11:00a.m. My first consultation is going well…I explained what plagiarism is and I think (I thinnnk) I’ve figured out how to cite a Youtube video APA style. This could come in handy for my final paper for English 596.
11:34a.m. That peppermint mocha from Starbucks is hitting the bloodstream. Woooo! My mind is filled with rooty-toot-toots and rummy-tum-tums.
12:10 p.m. My next consultee is running late. Mike offers me a random ham sandwich. It comes in a brown paper sack, complete with an apple, a bag of potato chips, plus little packets of mayo and mustard, which are cuter than cute. I feast on the repast later, not knowing where it really came from. It is delicious.
12:50 p.m. I’m knee-deep in a great paper on Japanese Internment camps. Time is running out and I’m getting bummed because it’s really good and I don’t want to stop reading it. The transitions make me jealous they’re so good. I’ve got transition jealousy.
1:00 p.m. The phone rings and I answer it. The writer on the line is going to be a little late for her appointment. No worries, I say. Then, oops, it looks like she doesn’t really have an appointment. I solve this problem the best way I know how: I hand the phone off to Melissa. Problem solved!
1:30 p.m. Once again, ELL students prove they can school me at grammar any day of the week. Thank Buddha for Hacker. Oh yeah, I know all about tenses. Until I try to explain tenses. The present progressive in the passive voice is a real doozy. And I’m still figuring out modals. It’s enough to make you cry. I would cry, but I’ve been told that I better not pout and I better not cry, because there is an old bearded man who is watching me and evidently I will be subject to punitive actions if I engage in such activities. Wow, Christmas is weird.
2:00 p.m. My shift is over and I gravitate towards the candy dish, taking as many Almond Joys as my conscience will allow (which is quite a lot). Sleep well, Writing Center, sleep well.
While I admit I was once intrigued by the prostitute-consultant analogy, not by what Scott Russell had to say about it but by some of the id...