It’s the last day of final conferences with students, and I’m getting a little punchy. Like, I’m having a hard time resisting the impulse to make chicken noises.
Student: Hi, Mike. Here’s my portfol–
Mike: PUCUUUCK!
I have no idea why I have this impulse.
Final Conferences
The HSO teaches at a college piano in Boston, and her end-of-semester reactions are similar.
I think you should embrace it and see what happens.
Somewhere there’s a chicken making Mike noises and wondering what that’s about. Merry Christmas from the land of Henrietta Marie, Joanna
You’re nicer than I, Mike. If a student walked in yesterday saying “Here’s my portfolio” I think I’d kill him.
So… you would make chicken noises, but something’s holding you back. Maybe you’re… chicken?
My last quiz said I harbored the secret desire to roll around in chicken fat so I say embrace the chicken as well. But I think of it more like a bbu-bbuuuuu-bbu-bbuuuu-bbu-bAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAK.
Now, Dennis, please don’t ruffle my feathers: I’ve been feeling a little henpecked lately.
I’d better not enter this colloquy, because I’ll just look like a dumb cluck.
So, do you think the chicken that makes Mike noises also feels at times as if it is running around like a Mike with its head cut off? Hey Mike…how funny would it be to hear a chicken do a SSG Johnson laugh? Now that is a hoot.
Rob: only if the chicken asked MacGyver, “Fritsch-a-fritsch-a-fritsch-a-want?”.
(Apologies to other folks for the inside jokes: me and Rob are doing a little Army reminiscence. For what it’s worth, we had a Sergeant in our platoon who used to reminisce that the best thing about being in an Airborne unit in the pre-drug-test Army was doing bong hits before a night jump. God bless you Sergeant Schu, wherever you may be.)
Sorry if I egged you on.