One of the funny things about the place I teach is that we still use chalkboards, as opposed to the white boards you find in most public schools (or the telepathic, mind-transference devices used in elite private institutions). As a result, I usually spend my days walking around with gray hands and dusty pants. (Incidentally, “Gray Hands and Dusty Pants” would be a great title for a John Mellencamp song.)

So now I’m typing this as my fingers are gripping the keys to an unnecessary degree, and I look like I just walked off the mat at a gymnastics meet. And why? So that some 14 year olds can know about reforms in urban America at the turn of the 20th century.

What can I say? I make the world a better place.

Even as I continue typing, little puffs of chalk-dust pop into the air with each keystroke, and the powder from my pants clouds the air arounds me as I gyrate my pelvis to the rhythm of my typing, as I am wont to do. Seriously you guys, I look like Taz when I blog.

Also, I am slathered in blood.