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Gryphonadmin
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"Elder Days Story Time: Home Ec"
 
  
The past is a foreign country: they do things differently there.
- L.P. Hartley, The Go-Between (1953)

Anybody else remember Home Economics? In the school district I went through, it was a required class in seventh grade. It was a sort of basic domestic survival course - introductions to cooking, sewing, and rudimentary financial management.

When I was in seventh grade, circa 1985, Home Ec had just become a requirement for all students; until that year only girls had to take it, and only boys had to take Industrial Arts (a.k.a. wood shop) in the next grade. The Home Ec teacher—I'll call her Mrs. Walton, although that is not her name—was... you know those teachers that everyone in the school, even students who hadn't taken her class, just seems to love and respect and look forward to seeing? Mrs. Walton was the opposite of that. Everyone in the building dreaded having to deal with her, including other faculty members.

There were basically two problems with Home Ec as Mrs. Walton taught it. One was that she wasted time on things that were, plain and simple, not important. Part of the class dealt with cooking and kitchen management. That's great, everyone should be able to cook at least a little bit. Hell, by the time I got to the seventh grade, I'd been baking for years thanks to my mother (Ashland Community High School Future Homemaker of the Year, 1970 - let's go Hornets!) and the Betty Crocker cookbook she won along with that scholarship. (I still have a copy of that same edition of the Crocker, with the orange cover; although I bought mine online many years later and it's in much better shape than Mom's, which has long since shed its binding and which has many stuck-together pages.) The Home Ec room's cooking facilities were pretty swanky for the time and place. I was expecting that part of the class to be good times.

And it might have been, except before we were ever allowed to enter the kitchen part of the room, we spent what in my memory today is a solid week, and this in a school where all classes met at the same time each day of the week, on setting a table. As in where in relation to the plate the plural forks go, and the various different glasses, and the cheese knife, and what the hell do seventh-graders need to know that for? (Protip: Nobody needs to know that.) The class is supposed to be basic homemaking prep, not training to work at the French Embassy.

So that kind of thing was one problem. The other was, well, as mentioned above, Mrs. Walton was... let's say often pleased to be difficult. Also, she clearly hated having been required to take all the boys in the class. It was a weird kind of reverse sexism—boys had no place in a kitchen, sewing room, etc. as far as she was concerned. We were about as welcome in her classroom as we would have been in the girls' locker room down in the gym. In my case, she seemed to find it personally offensive that I already knew a few things about cooking.

She also found my left-handedness offensive. One day after we'd done our first cooking exercise (I forget what it was) and had sat down to eat it, she suddenly called me out mid-bite and basically demanded that I mend my ways without giving me any feedback as to what about my ways actually required mending. You know, the classic "you know what you did," except that I didn't have the faintest idea, and neither, based on the baffled looks that were being exchanged, did anyone around me. When I professed this bafflement, she flew into the kind of rage one reserves for someone who is deliberately trolling and sent me to the office.

Mr. Ives (that is his real name), the principal, and his secretary (whose name I have alas forgotten) were confused to find me turning up in his outer office, since by that point I had more or less ceased to be the fighty little bastard I was in elementary school. "What did you do?" he asked, and I had to shrug and confess that I had no more idea than he did.

So he got on the intercom and buzzed down to the Home Ec room, and when Mrs. Walton answered he said, "Hi, uh, I have Ben Hutchins up there, but he seems not to know why he's here."

Mrs. Walton's response was so furiously indignant that Mr. Ives actually picked up the phone handset on the intercom panel and used that rather than have it spill all over the office floor from the speaker, so I missed most of it, but she opened with words to the effect of, "He knows perfectly well why he's there, that boy has the table manners of a PIG and"

The secretary and I sat there exchanging bemused glances until, at some length, Mr. Ives finished dealing with Mrs. Walton, closed the intercom connection to her room, and hung up the handset. Then, with the facial expression of a man who is shortening his lifespan slightly with the effort it's requiring him not to burst out laughing, he turned to me and said very calmly,

"Mrs. Walton wants me to explain to you that in this country..." He hesitated, fighting back another wave of laughter. "... In this country we hold our forks..." Pause; recenter; continue. "... in our left hands to cut, then switch them our right hands to eat."

I think my response was something along the lines of, "Oh. ... What?"

"I think..." Pause. "I think it's probably best if you..." Pause. "... don't return to Mrs. Walton's classroom today. I'll give you..." Pause. "I'll give you a pass to the library for the rest of this period."

The incident was never mentioned again, so presumably there was some follow-up conference in which Mrs. Walton had it impressed upon her that left-handedness (or being British, for that matter, not that I am) is not grounds for dismissal. She never really forgave me, though, and when we got to sewing the problem reared its head again in the dread shape of scissors. These hadn't been a problem since the first grade, but now they were suddenly back on the agenda, and my poor cut lines from being forced to use an inappropriate tool were a bone of contention for the entire sewing unit.

The real pinnacle came when we got to the actual "home economics" part of the class, though, where we were to learn how to balance a checkbook (I know, right?) and manage a rudimentary home budget. For whatever reason, Mrs. Walton decided that if she had to have boys in the class, she would at least take the opportunity to enforce some Traditional Gender Roles, so she divided the class up into boy-girl pairs and made them do the running-the-household exercises as teams.

Try to imagine for a moment how mortifying this kind of thing was. In the seventh grade. When declaring that any classmate might be interested in any another was still considered legitimate grounds for a fight under Section 422 of the Kid Penal Code. Got that locked in? Good.

Now know that the ratio in the class wasn't even. There were two extra boys.

So she made me and one of the other guys be the Alternative Lifestyle Couple. (That was the phrase she used. With audible sneer.)

Now, I could go into great detail as to how That's OK, That's Not What I'm Saying Here, but I'm going to trust that my audience understands that that's all established already. But in the seventh grade, and in rural Maine, and in 1985, I submit to you that that was a pretty shitty thing to do, particularly in the very pointed way she did it.

On the other hand, Rob and I had the best-balanced fake checkbook in the class, so. I'm just saying.

The flip side of this came the next year, when we all got to Industrial Arts; that teacher (we'll call him Mr. Welman) was no happier about the situation than Mrs. Walton had been; but that's another story.

--G.
-><-
Benjamin D. Hutchins, Co-Founder, Editor-in-Chief, & Forum Mod
Eyrie Productions, Unlimited http://www.eyrie-productions.com/
zgryphon at that email service Google has
Ceterum censeo Carthaginem esse delendam.


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  Subject     Author     Message Date     ID  
Elder Days Story Time: Home Ec [View All] Gryphonadmin Dec-07-15 TOP
  RE: Elder Days Story Time: Home Ec drakensis Dec-08-15 1
     RE: Elder Days Story Time: Home Ec Lime2K Dec-08-15 2
  RE: Elder Days Story Time: Home Ec Phantom Dec-08-15 3
  RE: Elder Days Story Time: Home Ec Offsides Dec-08-15 4
  RE: Elder Days Story Time: Home Ec Tabasco Dec-08-15 5
  RE: Elder Days Story Time: Home Ec ebony14 Dec-08-15 6
  RE: Elder Days Story Time: Home Ec The Traitor Dec-08-15 7
     RE: Elder Days Story Time: Home Ec Gryphonadmin Dec-08-15 8
  RE: Elder Days Story Time: Home Ec Nathan Dec-08-15 9
     RE: Elder Days Story Time: Home Ec Gryphonadmin Dec-08-15 10
     RE: Elder Days Story Time: Home Ec twipper Dec-10-15 12
         RE: Elder Days Story Time: Home Ec Gryphonadmin Dec-10-15 14
  RE: Elder Days Story Time: Home Ec Terminus Est Dec-09-15 11
  RE: Elder Days Story Time: Home Ec MoonEyes Dec-10-15 13

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drakensis
Member since Dec-20-06
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Dec-08-15, 01:57 AM (EDT)
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1. "RE: Elder Days Story Time: Home Ec"
In response to message #0
 
   I have to say that of my own Home Economics classes, I've made more use of knowing how to sew and cook than I have of how to hammer out a cookie cutter on an anvil and then weld the ends together. Now I'm not saying that that's universal.

On the other hand, balancing a cheque book wasn't part of the curriculum where I was and given some of the idiots I've run into since, it probably should have been.

D.


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Lime2K
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Dec-08-15, 02:49 AM (EDT)
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2. "RE: Elder Days Story Time: Home Ec"
In response to message #1
 
   Amusingly enough, I learned how to do a short-form income tax form in my 7th-grade English class, of all places...
--------------
Lime2K
The One True Evil Overlord


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Phantom
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Dec-08-15, 10:17 AM (EDT)
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3. "RE: Elder Days Story Time: Home Ec"
In response to message #0
 
   Ah, yes, Home Ec. That takes me back!
Sadly I was much better at home ec than wood shop. To this day I am not allowed to use power tools.

I didn't have Balancing a Check Book nor the Proper Embassy table setting portion. Wow, she sounded fun!

But like you I had been baking and cooking meals myself for years by that point. So the cooking section was really fun.

Oh I can't wait to hear how woodshop went!

Later!
Phantom

"When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth." - Sherlock Holmes


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Offsides
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4. "RE: Elder Days Story Time: Home Ec"
In response to message #0
 
   It sounds like your Home Ec experience was about the opposite of mine (also 1985, give or take). In 7th grade everyone cycled around the 5 "arts" classes over the course of the year (which was in trimesters, so it made the rotation schedules weird): "Art" (painting and whatnot), Wood Shop, Metal Shop, Music, and Home Ec. Everybody dreaded Home Ec, because one of the requirements was to sew a canvas bag. Except for some reason I took to it like a duck to water, and really enjoyed it. So much that I made something like six or seven of them, and gave them out as holiday gifts that year. Of course, I've never touched a sewing machine since, nor do I have any real interest at this point, but it was fun at the time.

The only other part I remember about it was we got to learn some cake decorating, and for a about a year and a half I was actually able to make roses out of frosting. That's something I might even be able to do again if I put in the practice, since I do enjoy cooking and baking, but it's easier to get one from the store :)

No recollection of balancing a checkbook, but there's a lot about 7th grade I don't remember (probably intentionally at this point)...

Offsides

[...] in order to be a realist you must believe in miracles.
-- David Ben Gurion
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Tabasco
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Dec-08-15, 11:03 AM (EDT)
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5. "RE: Elder Days Story Time: Home Ec"
In response to message #0
 
   We still had it about 10 years after your adventure, and it was just as silly in parts. What they thought I would accomplish by knowing crosstitching is still a mystery to me.

--------------------
Space for Rent


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ebony14
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Dec-08-15, 01:17 PM (EDT)
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6. "RE: Elder Days Story Time: Home Ec"
In response to message #0
 
   Strangely enough, I learned how to balance my checkbook in Algebra (aka 8th Grade Honors Math). Not sure why the teacher threw that in along with the quadratic equation and Please Excuse My Dear Aunt Sally, but there you are.

Ebony the Black Dragon

"Life is like an anole. Sometimes it's green. Sometimes it's brown. But it's always a small Caribbean lizard."


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The Traitor
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Dec-08-15, 07:50 PM (EDT)
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7. "RE: Elder Days Story Time: Home Ec"
In response to message #0
 
   Good grief, there's actually an Elder Days Story Time to which I can make a relevant, non-shit contribution! The rain today, it raineth primarily blood. =]

Brief background: at Year 9 (13-14 years old) you could pick and choose what GCSEs you wanted to take, with compulsory subjects and optional ones in various categories. There were two things I actually wanted to take when I was at school, which was considerably after y'all were at school; Home Economics (by this point Food Technology, which if nothing else sounds cooler to the only slightly gender-questioning nibblet I was back then) and History. Food Tech I was prevented from studying by being both actively and inventively hazardous at times, so I don't consider it exactly unfair. In terms of destruction to the work surfaces and kitchen area, my crowning achievement being trying to make a dipping sauce for some grapes out of Mini Babybels with nothing but a cook's torch and a frankly enormous overestimation of my own competence. Longtime sufferers of Traitor conversation around these parts will know that the last part has not changed much over the years. =]

History, however, I was slightly more displeased at being barred from taking, by which I mean it sent me into an apoplectic fury that led me and my mother to be forcibly removed from that year's Parents' Evening and banned from attending it the year after. See, the head of the History department, one Mr. Baker, was not entirely convinced that I was doing my homework. My handwriting was and remains slow; despite regular exercise in this field, I find that my writing speed with the common-or-garden biro was, to quote J.K. Rowling, outstripped by passing butterflies. Thus, my classwork had an element of précis to it that Mr. Baker took for indolence rather than, well, just being slow, and it wasn't helped by the fact that I corrected the cantankerous old shart on a matter in the first lesson of that year. My homework, on the other hand, was a rather different matter. Since I actually had the time to work on the poxy stuff, I was passing everything he threw at me with flying colours. He most definitely did not like that. At the time, my mother was studying for her History Ph.D, which she has now passed with minor corrections.

So at that Parents' Evening, the first thing he said to my mother was that he would not allow me to study GCSE History because my mother was obviously doing all my homework.

I was a very slight youth, and was unsuccessful in restraining my mother from grabbing him by the lapels and screaming at him until she'd gone a variety of interesting colours.

And I'm now studying for a History degree, so joke's on him, the shit. =]

---
"She's old, she's lame, she's barren too, // "She's not worth feed or hay, // "But I'll give her this," - he blew smoke at me - // "She was something in her day." -- Garnet Rogers, Small Victory

FiMFiction.net: we might accept blatant porn involving the cast of My Little Pony but as God is my witness we have standards.


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Gryphonadmin
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Dec-08-15, 08:29 PM (EDT)
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8. "RE: Elder Days Story Time: Home Ec"
In response to message #7
 
   LAST EDITED ON Dec-08-15 AT 08:37 PM (EST)
 
>my crowning
>achievement being trying to make a dipping sauce for some grapes out
>of Mini Babybels with nothing but a cook's torch and a frankly
>enormous overestimation of my own competence.

I'm surprised that didn't work! Frankly enormous overestimation of one's own competence is practically a prerequisite for getting into the really serious culinary schools.

>I find that my writing speed with the
>common-or-garden biro was, to quote J.K. Rowling, outstripped by
>passing butterflies. Thus, my classwork had an element of
>précis to it

Heh! My handwriting is either unusefully slow or so bad everything I write looks like a prescription. This has, over the course of the last few years, led one professor to ask quietly as I was handing in an exam, "Did you have enough time? I tried to calibrate the length of the test to your writing speed," which I found weirdly gratifying; and, on the other hand, to the single most amusing grader's note I've ever received. That was on one of the exams for the 100-level European History 1750–Present course I had to take as part of the core HTY curriculum, which was one of those giant lecture-hall classes with 150 sleeping freshmen in it.

That class was broken up into smaller groups for the weekly recitation/discussion sections, and each of those sessions was run by a TA, not the professor in charge. The general rule was that whichever TA we had recitation with was the one who graded our exams. My section's TA had the most maddeningly precise penmanship - he wrote like a pen plotter labeling an architectural diagram. Meanwhile, I write like a doctor in a hurry, and toward the end of a long essay exam, as my endurance begins to flag, it degenerates into a sort of semi-cuneiform mess.

All of which is a long-winded way of explaining why, on the last page of my booklet for one of that course's exams, my TA wrote a note in the margin in his precise, all-block-capitals hand:

I DON'T KNOW WHAT ANYTHING ON THIS PAGE
SAYS, BUT THE REST OF YOUR ANSWERS HAVE
BEEN REALLY GOOD SO I'M JUST GOING TO
ASSUME IT'S FINE.

>So at that Parents' Evening, the first thing he said to my mother was
>that he would not allow me to study GCSE History because my mother was
>obviously doing all my homework.

I've told this story before (in the "Fun in the Computer Lab" thread, I think), but this reminds me of the English teacher I had in high school who gave any paper that she could tell was written on a computer (and back then it was easy to tell) a zero without reading it. She believed that a "word processor" was some kind of AI program that would write a paper for you if you provided the topic and required length. My mother the educational computing specialist was not best pleased.

"HAL, give me eight double-spaced pages on Robert Frost, please."

"I'm sorry, Dave, I'm afraid I can't do that."

>And I'm now studying for a History degree, so joke's on him, the shit.
>=]

Heh, I'm reminded of the early episode of Top Gear where Hammond calls up his high school headmaster from the back of the Maybach he's testing. "'Never get anywhere in life,' I believe you said..."

--G.
-><-
Benjamin D. Hutchins, Co-Founder, Editor-in-Chief, & Forum Mod
Eyrie Productions, Unlimited http://www.eyrie-productions.com/
zgryphon at that email service Google has
Ceterum censeo Carthaginem esse delendam.


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Nathan
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Dec-08-15, 08:47 PM (EDT)
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9. "RE: Elder Days Story Time: Home Ec"
In response to message #0
 
   Hoo, boy.

So, as fellow veterans of Extremely Rural School Environments may be aware, in the real boonies, you find schools which have two traits:

First, because the population density is so low, it's often economically impractical to have separate elementary, middle/junior, and high schools - so you end up with K-through-Twelve all in the same building. (There's a school in my home county where that will often all fit in the same classroom, kept open because it's simply too far to bus the kids to another facility.)

Second, because all the families have lived in the area since Time Immemorial, everybody is related to, if not quite everybody else, at least to somebody.

Now, I went to such a school.

And my parents are both natives of a completely different state. With no relatives in the area.

This presented certain social challenges, but the worst challenge, as clarified by my parents' stories, was the staff.

Y'see, I wandered through my father's shelf of WW2 history books, and found one that looked interesting, which I then picked up and spent the next... month or two? Reading.

In first grade.

At one or two different points, I had teachers ask me what the book was about. And I stared at them in wide-eyed terror, because 'explain? In, like, words? To a person?'.

At which point they concluded that the only reason I was carrying the book was pretend that I was actually smart, since obviously I couldn't possibly actually be reading it, and that I was a lousy little liar who needed to be treated as one.

I was quite pathetically grateful when, between third and fourth grades, we moved into town and I was able to go to a different school. I adored my fourth grade teacher, a tiny little waif of a woman whose name I can remember but have no hope of spelling, enough that, all through fifth grade, I would stop by on the way out of the building to give her a hug before I went home - just because she was fair and that was such a nice change.

I learned just a couple of hours ago that she had died of cancer while I was in High School.

So... I guess rambling about it on the internet helps me work that feeling out.

-----

"V, did you do something foolish?"

"Yes, and it was glorious."


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Gryphonadmin
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Dec-08-15, 09:05 PM (EDT)
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10. "RE: Elder Days Story Time: Home Ec"
In response to message #9
 
   >So, as fellow veterans of Extremely Rural School Environments may be
>aware, in the real boonies, you find schools which have two traits:
>
(snip)
>
>Now, I went to such a school.

I didn't, not quite (though the school system I went through is closer to that state now than it was when I was there), but my parents did.

>spent the next...
>month or two? Reading.
>
>In first grade.

Man, I got so much crap in kindergarten for already being able to read. I was like, "Where are the books? I can play with blocks at home, I don't need to be surrounded by loud strangers to do that." (Not in so many words, I was five, but that is a fair approximation of my sentiments. :)

>I adored my fourth grade teacher, a tiny little waif of a woman whose
>name I can remember but have no hope of spelling, enough that, all
>through fifth grade, I would stop by on the way out of the building to
>give her a hug before I went home - just because she was fair and that
>was such a nice change.
>
>I learned just a couple of hours ago that she had died of cancer while
>I was in High School.
>
>So... I guess rambling about it on the internet helps me work that
>feeling out.

Oof, yeah. That's rough. My first-grade teacher (who has a similar place in my personal pantheon for coming along and being a Reasonable Person after kindergarten) died earlier this year, and hearing about it was a sort of, "... Shit, what? That's not allowed, why wasn't I consulted?" sort of moment. :/

--G.
-><-
Benjamin D. Hutchins, Co-Founder, Editor-in-Chief, & Forum Mod
Eyrie Productions, Unlimited http://www.eyrie-productions.com/
zgryphon at that email service Google has
Ceterum censeo Carthaginem esse delendam.


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twipper
Member since Jan-8-03
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Dec-10-15, 04:17 PM (EDT)
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12. "RE: Elder Days Story Time: Home Ec"
In response to message #9
 
   LAST EDITED ON Dec-10-15 AT 04:17 PM (EST)
 
>Y'see, I wandered through my father's shelf of WW2 history books, and
>found
>*snip* which I then picked up and spent the next...
>month or two? Reading.
>
>In first grade.
>

Yep, went through something similar. I was in the 'gifted' reading/literature programs all the way through my junior/senior high schooling. I think I read 'The Hobbit' the first time in 3rd grade. Sometime during my 4th grade, I'd picked up one of Mom's Anne McCaffrey dragon books (think it was the 'White Dragon'), and took it along to school for downtime.

My teacher tried to have me expelled for bringing porn into the classroom (would have been 1981). Mom found the teacher's opinion less than amusing.

Brian


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Gryphonadmin
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14. "RE: Elder Days Story Time: Home Ec"
In response to message #12
 
   >My teacher tried to have me expelled for bringing porn into the
>classroom (would have been 1981). Mom found the teacher's opinion less
>than amusing.

In fairness, The White Dragon is totally porn.

--G.
-><-
Benjamin D. Hutchins, Co-Founder, Editor-in-Chief, & Forum Mod
Eyrie Productions, Unlimited http://www.eyrie-productions.com/
zgryphon at that email service Google has
Ceterum censeo Carthaginem esse delendam.


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Terminus Est
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Dec-09-15, 09:42 PM (EDT)
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11. "RE: Elder Days Story Time: Home Ec"
In response to message #0
 
   Hooo boy. I never did take Home Ec, but I did take 'shop' class.

We went through two different teachers for this class while I was in high school. The first turned out to be a drug dealer, who was busted at the post office with a frankly alarming amount of weed. The second was a basketball coach... who kept a loaded gun in his filing cabinet, and on multiple occasions is known to have pulled it on students.

I was technically 'in' that class for four years (school I went to had basically zero electives)... and we never learned how to use a single piece of shop machinery, for which I shall always be angry, because dammit, I wanted to make stuff.


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MoonEyes
Member since Jun-29-03
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Dec-10-15, 05:51 PM (EDT)
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13. "RE: Elder Days Story Time: Home Ec"
In response to message #0
 
   Proper response for teachers like these, though I sadly never used it on mine(though I HAVE used it on other people):

Vade et caca in pilleum et ipse traheatur super aures tuo!

Go shit in a (knitted)hat and pull it down around your ears.


...!
Gott's Leetle Feesh in Trousers!


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Eyrie Productions, Unlimited
Benjamin D. Hutchins
E P U (Colour)