#this is basic damn algebra jesus h christ

[lastbluetardis]

Is the school system (at least the American one) really failing students so badly that my college freshmen can't even properly pick apart a mathematical word problem to get the information they need?? So many students came to my office hour for help with a problem that asked "A mass of mercury occupies 0.850 L. What volume would the same mass of ethanol occupy?" (The problem also gives them the density, which is simply the ratio of mass/volume, so they should be able to very easily figure out this problem.)

But I've had to explicitly tell students "When the problem says "a mass of mercury", that means it's an unknown mass. And when the problem says "occupies 0.850 L", it means that unknown mass of mercury has a volume of 0.850 L. And when is says "an equal mass of ethanol", that means that the mass of ethanol is the same as the mass of mercury."

Like wtf bro?? Y'all are in college. How tf did you pass your SATs or ACTs or whatever it is now to even get yourself into this school??!?!?!!

#keep in mind this is a chemistry course #with most of these students being stem majors #with a lot of them wanting to be pre-med #this is basic damn algebra jesus h christ #woes of teaching #i genuinely love teaching don't get me wrong #but goddamn they're off to a rough start this semester

[talesofnecromancy]

December 2017 #253

H: Darlin’. You look lovely.

Me: I do? Am I wearing something nice?

H: No, a shift and a blanket.

Me: Oh.

H: Your hair is half wild. You look as if you stepped from a faerytale.

Me: Ah, but what character am I?

H: A vagabond sorceress of course!

Me: Of course, how foolish of me. Well, thank you then. You sound quite bright this eve - how was your day darlin’?

H: (smiling and then coughing and looking like the damn Cheshire Cat)

Me: What?

H: I was not a model of decorum.

Me: Okay. How indecorous were you and with whom?

H: (exasperated) No - not in that manner - girl, your mind can be gutter-bound.

Me: I heard it was good for star-gazing.

H: How so?

Me: Oscar Wilde. ‘We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.’

H: I see.

Me: Didn’t Wilde tour America at some point?

H: (tightly) … Not where I was.

Me: Tell me about your lapse in decorum.

H: I packed a war-bag of bourbon and fixings and other things.

Me: Like what?

H: And I dressed in that ugly coachman’s coat and saddled up Tennyson.

Me: You don’t like that coat? …H, Jesus Christ, stop grinning about it and tell me what you did!

H: I took things to the apple tree and the creek.

Me: Isn’t that a really long ride?

H: Yes. I… I talked to the tree. I gave it bourbon.

Me: (surprised) You wassailed an apple tree!

H: Is… that a practice?

Me: Kinda. Wassail is Anglo Saxon, meaning ‘good health’. But there’s an old English thing of wassailing orchards - especially apple trees. There’s a record of it happening in the 16th C in Kent. Basically people singing and shouting at trees to get a good harvest. It would usually be done on Twelfth Night, and you’d give the trees cider and bread.

H: (crestfallen) O.

Me: What’s wrong?

H: I was foolish to think it had not been done before.

Me: No, it means you have an instinct for the right thing to do - enacting a practice you have no knowledge of but others centuries before you have seen as important.

H: I had hoped it was new.

Me: It’s new to you. I’m impressed. What did you get up to at the creek? … Darlin’? What’s wrong?

H: I - I feel deeply foolish.

Me: You were so pleased before - what’s changed?

H: I… I chanced my hand at a spell.

Me: Do you want to tell me about it?

H: I… When I know a piece, the notes flow beneath my fingers. The music steals everything else. It was a little like that. I thought of preparations for a dance - a ball - the meticulous planning... I threw things into the creek. But everything - my conduct, my nature, my demeanour, my dress - it was all focused to a point, all entire.

Me: What did you throw in the river?

H: …Must I tell you?

Me: No, of course you don’t have to, unless-

H: It was not a kit!

Me: Gods no - I know it wasn’t. So… you threw some stuff into the creek.

H: You make it sound prosaic.

Me: I’m sorry, that wasn’t my intention at all. You do anything else?

H: I fired my Colt.

Me: That all the detail I’m getting?

H: Yes.

Me: Okay. Did you feel hopeful and satisfied when you’d finished?

H: … Yes.

Me: That’s good then. Congratulations on doing your first spell. …Wait, why did you do a spell?

H: You told me magic was for things we could not affect in other ways.

Me: Yes. What did you need to affect?

H: (wryly) Things I could not by other means.

Me: Okay, okay, I’ll stop asking. Just tell me there’s nothing I’d skillet you for and that you’re pleased with your undertakings.

H: Yes.

Me: In which case, I’m all for your indecorous activities.

H: I… I had to take laudanum after I came back.

Me: That doesn’t surprise me. Magic doesn’t exactly balance like algebra or the laws of thermodynamics, but the energy still has to come from somewhere. Have you had any more letters?

H: I am invited for Christmas.

Me: Oh darlin’, I’m so pleased for you.

H: There’s another letter from S as well. She may visit in the new year.

Me: That’s brilliant!

H: She will only come if-

Me: If I’m not here?

H: No. She wants to speak to you.

Me: Oh. Well, please tell her I’d be happy to?

H: (lighting a cigarette) Don’t play cards.

Me: Ha! Wasn’t planning on it…

(For the curious, S taught H to play cards and she is apparently lethal. Also, Oscar Wilde did an extensive tour of America. He was even in Colorado in April of ‘82, but H was elsewhere - still dealing with fallout from the Incident - and didn’t make it to Denver until at least a month later, which may account for why he sounded pissy when I mentioned it.)

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#notes #ouija #ghosts #ouija board #necromancy #witchcraft