bleah.  It started two days ago, the fever and lung congestion this morning, my nose apparently needs a new washer because it just WON"T stop dripping...  I went in to school today and left two days worth of lesson plans, calling the doctor in the morning. So here I am.  Water bottle, laptop, iPod, in my comfy old sweats, blanket on my feet (the one that entices the cat to come sit on my lap), roll of toilet tissue, Advil, wool hat, B movie on the telly - so bad it's good.  30,000 Leagues Under The Sea, and yes, it's 10,000 leagues worse than the old one.  Lorenzo Lamas has pretty eyes, but the acting is SooooooOOOOoooo wooden!  Monochromatic characters, bad sound track, cheesy special effects.  Truly a film worthy of Elvira-style commentary! Last week was a tough one, my 5th grade is having early-onset attitude dysfunction.  In other words, June behavior, and it's only February (wish me luck).  In order to placate them in chorus I chose an old English ballad in Dorian mode, called "Henry Martin."  They don't care about England, ballads, Dorian mode or some old guy, however... ... they WERE mildly titillated by the background story: Apparently there was a Scottish merchant in the 1400-1500s by the name of John Barton whose sailing vessel was robbed by Portuguese ships.  He obtained permission from Scotland's king to seek revenge and sent his son Andrew to punish and imperil.  Andrew did so, but got rather carried away, attacking anything floating, and at one point sent three barrels of pickled pirate heads to King James IV in 1506. You could say he had anger management issues. (The class snorts...) In 1511 he lost his head in a battle.  Which was sent, pickled, to the King of Scotland.  ("Hooray" from one voice in the back...) Of course a story this good couldn't be kept quiet, and immediately an 82-verse ballad made the rounds, accounting the deeds of Andrew Barton.  ("See how lucky YOU are?" I say to my group, "you only have NINE verses to learn!")  Over time the story was shortened and some scholars think the name was misheard along the way as "Henry Martin."  Others think there's no connection at all, the details are too different. But I like the Old Geezer not hearing it right version of the story. Old Geezer: "WHO'D ye say did that?" Troubador: "Andrew Barton." OG: "WHO?" and then what he THINKS is under his breath but is actually as loud, "stop mumbling will yeh..." Troubador: "ANDRew BARton!"  OG: "Henry Martin?" Troubador: "No, ANDREW BARTON!!" OG: "Eh, you don't have to yell - I can hear ye just fine!  Henry Martin it is..."  ======== So that's life in the Fiddler Lane.  One more week and then February break.  I'm looking forward to it, wish I were feeling healthier.