I was teaching my 11 a.m. English composition class a few days ago when I received two phone calls in succession, just as I was titillating my students with tales of thesis construction and coordinating conjunctions. I have a constant fear that I’m going to be in the middle of sternly warning a student not to use their cell phone in class or it will adversely affect their participation grade . . . when my phone rings. So, fortunately, I had it on vibrate. The first voicemail was from my sister. The message, a mix of Punjabi and English, started with a deep breath, indicating she was about to disperse a lot of information in a very short amount of time: “Papa isn’t picking…
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Categories: Musings