I can't believe it's only Wednesday. I feel like I've already lived through five days this week. Maybe it's because Hubby's out of town. I don't know.
I gave an assignment to my class yesterday to start a research paper. The thesis must be that an American author of their choosing holds a particular philosophy on life (chosen from the different philosophies we have studied this year). For example, a thesis could be, "Nathaniel Hawthorne is an example of the romantic view of life as expressed through his literature." Well, that's not very good, but you get the idea.
I gave several criteria: it has to be an author not covered in our book (can you believe a text on American literature doesn't have F. Scott Fitzgerald in it?), it has to be someone who has at least two published works (novels, preferably), and it has to be an American writer.
Almost without missing a beat, one of the boys asked if he could do his paper on me. Me. Yeah, nice try, but I don't think a couple of newspaper articles about Rockapella are going to reveal my philosophy on life. Granted, it would be a lot easier to get quotes from me as opposed to Fitzgerald.
I'm excited to see who they pick to write about. How much do you want to bet at least one of the girls will pick Stephenie Meyer?