Scene: Harriet�s kitchen during dinner preparations last night.

AJ: Do you know how to spell �zygomorphic?�

Harriet: Maybe. Do you?

AJ: (takes deep breath and says as fast as humanly possible) Z-Y-G-O-M-O-R-P-H-I-C!

Harriet: Great job! What does it mean?

AJ: I don�t know. (races off before he is at risk for finding out).

* * * * *

This morning�s commute felt holidayish. The white fairy lights were up on Main Street, carefully wrapped around each lamppost and tree branch. The platform-standers were later and a little less numerous than usual. There was talk of turkey dinners and children coming home and football instead of numbers and tiredness. Downtown, workers are stuffing evergreen branches into every available flowerbox. Even the campus caf� where I get my morning cup of coffee is decked with icicle lights. The pregnant professor apologetically ordering espresso in front of my line asked about the holiday hours and whether the cashier was cooking. So many times female professors are careful to skirt any conversations that suggest they have any part in traditional gender roles (and they often have reason to be circumspect). It�s nice to see people acting human once in a while. Everyone�s on holiday.

I can also tell a holiday is approaching because some of my signposts have gone missing. The blind couple that walks past my downtown bus stop every morning was a single woman this morning. And the pair who pass in front of my office door speaking Korean at precisely 8:30 every morning? They are nowhere in sight. A department that is always quiet before 10 is even quieter this morning. I wonder how many students will show up today.

* * * * *

There was actually a reasonable turnout in class and we had a good discussion. The one advantage to keeping the twentieth century at the end of the quarter is that they get a little nervous about figuring it out in time for the exam. I met with a boatload of students about their papers and they were all thinking about interesting things. I was a little distressed but not surprised by some of their concerns, mainly that they�ve found most of the professors who ask open-ended questions and say they want thinking rather than research don�t really mean it. I wasn�t surprised because I�ve had many such professors myself, but I assured them that I meant what I said. I cast their paper topics very carefully, giving them specific musical examples to write about and specific literature to hook them into but without a statement of what the argument should be or how to back it up. Although there are probably a few wrong answers, there are many, many options for approaching an A paper, none of which require outside research. One student said one of his professors last quarter said that when, in fact, what he meant was that you could pass without research but you�d better do some research if you wanted an A or B. Another student asked point blank if there was a right or wrong answer. They are on the ropes. I told them all that my goal was to assess how they could synthesize information from the course through conducting comparisons and doing some independent thinking about the application of topics we�ve covered in class. I am not trying to assess their research skills. This is not a research course. And there are no right answers because quite frankly, I find those types of questions really boring to read in large numbers. If I�ve got to grade twenty-odd papers, I want them to be about something that I find interesting.

A knot of students stayed behind after class to ask questions and talk, there was more to say. And this on the day with probably the most difficult music of the quarter. I wish I could figure out how to make this dynamic happen earlier in the quarter. Maybe it�s just that it takes that long for us all to get used to each other. There�s only one class left now. Amazing.

* * * * *

I came home to an empty house. AJ and Mr. The Spy (or is it Mr. Spy? Perhaps we should take a vote?) are at my mother-in-law�s playing. I�m sitting in my favorite chair watching an obese squirrel run up and down the linden tree. He is currently lodged in his hole with only the top of his head sticking out. If I hadn�t seen him run in there, I would never have noticed him � he looks as if he�s made of bark.

I am resting up for tomorrow�s cooking extravaganza. Tomorrow the house will smell like pumpkin pie. I am wondering if I should take bets on the annual Thanksgiving Day pie:people ratio, which has ranged from 1:1 to a dismal 1:3 over the past few years. I myself will make only two pies this year, but I�m sure others will show up with more. My in-laws believe in the powers of dessert, a religion to which I subscribe whole-heartedly.

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