Sister Claire should have a second career as a motivational speaker. Maybe she already does. Maybe that's why she leaves so early everyday. This afternoon, Young Bo' and I were talking, a bit too lately, about proctor-cests during our days at the Bo' when Sister Claire walked by, exclaimed that she didn't know how we do it, and walked off, leaving us with gaping mouths and a fear that we had done wrong (it's a healthy fear, because-- as Sister Claire, Whitecasle, DocQuery, and anyone else will tell you-- I mess up a lot). Turns out though, she wasn't talking about our wrongs. She didn't know how we could do our jobs of filling in tables and entering data. One afternoon of it and she had apparently had enough.
Claire: I hope [my niece] doesn't grow up to be a research assistant. Or a SAS programmer.
Moi: Well, we get a white board to play with.
Claire: No wonder you guys are always so excited about the board.
No wonder, indeed. And I was just getting used to the idea of doing homework-type work for eight hours a day. That board, and the thought of returning home to eat my made-from-scratch pizza, are the two things that get me out of bed in the morning. That and erm, all the starving children in the world that need my help.
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