Yes, yes. Daisy is cute, isn't she?! And as much as I agree with the comments about how wonderful it is to see her growing and discovering, last night I was ready to trade her in for a bowl of well behaved fish. My GOD the energy. She ran, she peed in the floor, she ate the carpet, she growled (playfully), snapped (nips really), and generally jumped up and down on my last nerve. I finally put her to bed an hour early, and put myself to bed shortly after. Whew! I'll be glad when Puppy Kindergarten starts on Monday night. I bet she'll sleep then!
Incidentally, she got her second shots this morning, and she's totally healthy. And growing! She weighed four pounds when we got her, and now, three weeks later, she weights 6.7. Right on, girl!
On the professional front, a funny thing happened earlier today, and it happens to me quite often. To contextualize, I don't meet with classes on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, but I have to work in the Writing Center for three hours in the afternoon. As such, I rarely go into my office on MWF, and since I don't meet with students in anything related to an organized fashion, I rarely dress up. MWF is all about dark jeans, comfy sweaters, and comfy (flat) shoes. The byproduct of this casual dress, my overgrown curly locks, the sunglasses I wear on my head to hold back said locks, and the 27 years I have on me is that most people think I'm a student.
A couple of days ago, for instance, I was tutoring a young man--probably 19 or 20--and he stopped mid-session and told me he liked my hair. I smiled, unsure if it was an acne and Red Bull induced come-on or just a really awkward proclamation brought on by a sneaky case of Tourette's. Either way, I continued correcting his comma splices and he went away. He showed back up for another appointment yesterday, and the first thing he asked was, "Are you a teacher here?" To which I replied, "YES! Yes I am." And he didn't comment on my hair anymore.
This afternoon I made a pit stop in the ladies room before I popped up here to the WC, and I always use the Faculty/Staff restrooms on the main floor of the library. As I was coming out of the jane, one of the library workers--whom I've seen around but haven't met--approached me with a squinty, half-cocked look of confusion and asked, "Are you a staff member here?" I answered in the affirmative, assured her that I teach English, and she was most relieved. I apologized for having not introduced myself before now, we had a nice exchange, and I went on my way. I like to comfort myself in thinking she was just being friendly, but I suspect she was really trying to protect the staff bathroom from infiltrators.
There are far worse daily frustrations than being the really young instructor on the block, but my God, must I resort to tweed and a bun to secure my teacherly identity?
I'll save the story about walking into a classroom to proctor an exam and being handed a pencil for another day.