Last Sunday, on the way to church, I noticed that the geese have returned. That, coupled with the almost balmy weather we had yesterday, has me suddenly looking forward to spring. I must admit, as much as I love the season, I will be glad to see this winter pass.
Speaking of passing…
I was reminded of yet another advert in the TTC that makes me wonder who decides what goes and what doesn’t. Or. for that matter, who checks the spelling and grammar on these things. The poster is part of the seasonal Blue Jays campaign, and though I am as Toronto-centric as the next person, I’m still appalled at the blurb: Someoneortheother is the man with the gold glove.
Actually, I must confess that I’m not completely sure of my footing here, but I think I can safely say that it should be golden glove. As in The Golden Bat or The Golden Ball of Opportunity; after all, if Wodehouse and Christie did it so, I think I’m probably right.
And speaking of of the English…
Professor John Baird is perhaps the best lecturer I’ve had the privilege of studying under in my last three years here. He regularly makes, without seeming to exert much effort, even the most potentially boring readings interesting. And the way he appropriately references current events and pop culture – from “pretty boy” Orlando Bloom, to Cartman’s authoritar, to Monty Python’s Flying Circus – never ceases to amaze me. And they say UofT has the most boring Profs of any university in North America.
And finally, speaking of boredom…
There was an article a few days ago on a study that concluded that children who have regular access to computers learn less because of the distraction. I can’t believe they needed to commission a study to figure that out. But really, I think it’s just a part of a bigger problem. Children these days don’t have time to be bored. I suppose most would see that as a good thing, but really, it’s not. If you don’t have the time to be bored, then chances are you also don’t have the time to think of things other than what you must think of. You don’t have time to imagine. And that is in no way a good thing.
So, here’s to childhood, and grade school, and story time, and show-and-tell, and recess and all other things of those simpler times.
The White Stripes
From the album, White Blood Cells
Fall is here, hear the yell
Back to school, ring the bell
Brand new shoes, walking blues
Climb the fence, books and pens
I can tell that we’re going to be friends
Walk with me, Suzy Lee
Through the park and by the tree
We will rest upon the ground
And look at all the bugs we found
Then safely walk to school
Without a sound
Well here we are, no one else
We walked to school all by ourselves
There’s dirt on our uniforms
From chasing all the ants and worms
We clean up and now its time to learn
Numbers, letters, learn to spell
Nouns, and books, and show and tell
At playtime we will throw the ball
Back to class, through the hall
Teacher marks our height
Against the wall
And we don’t notice any time pass
We don’t notice anything
We sit side by side in every class
Teacher thinks that I sound funny
But she likes the way you sing
Tonight I’ll dream while in my bed
When silly thoughts go through my head
About the bugs and alphabet
And when I wake tommorow I’ll bet
That you and I will walk together again
‘Cause I can tell that we’re going to be friends
I know I said this post would be about the other chapels I visited Thursday past, but I wasn’t feeling up to writing the rest of that post today, if that makes sense.
Also, I seriously doubt that anyone was actually sitting on the edge of their seats, breath bated, in anticipation of what I might have to say.