Here I sit, surrounded by stapled stacks of paper strewn around the room like the dead and wounded on some bloody battlefield. I suppose that makes me one of the survivors! I've done my part to defend America from grammatical terrorism and Wikistudying. From where the sun now stands, I will grade no more forever.
Or, at least, not tonight. My brain has threatened that, if I read one more sentence of undergraduate prose, it will cease to work and render me unfit for anything more complex than singing 'You are my sunshine' on street corners for the rest of my life. I've been grading for the last nine hours- so it's time to take a break and play with the cat. Have I mentioned that I've discovered that our cat Lola likes it when I sing to her? If I sing her "Rock-a-bye Baby", she stops what she's doing, starts purring very loudly, curls up in my lap, and goes to sleep. It's ridiculously adorable.
Anyway, the essays aren't terrible- only one plagiarized one so far. And I've rented John Carpenter's The Thing. So, I'm going to lay down my arms for tonight and get back to the battlefield tomorrow. Old graders never die, we just look that way some evenings.