What it means, folks, is that if this were algebra class, I'd get no credit. Zip. Zero. Nada. And I'd hear voices whispering from the back of the classroom. "Toast. She's toast."
Mrs. Eagin, the teacher, would take me aside and inquire about the situation. Then she'd kindly--but very firmly--explain how important it is to do each week's homework in a timely way. I needed to understand and practice last week's lesson in order to be successful with this week's lesson.
She'd ask how she could help. Were there things I didn't understand? Did I have her phone number and email address so I could ask questions instead of getting stuck? Then she'd remind me that I still needed to go back and do last week's homework. And if it became a pattern, she'd have to call my parents.
Appropriately chastened, I'd slink back to my seat, determined to stay up to date in the future.
And that's where I am now.
Throughout February, I've been thinking about the meaning of my February page. I'm very clear about it. I have it more or less designed in my head. It has been "mentally journaled," even though my hands were doing other things. I will get February finished this month. And I will get March finished on time. Mrs. Eagin taught me well.
At the risk of showing myself to be a cultural illiterate, an Art Luddite, there's stuff about Conceptual Art that I don't get as Art either. But I live in what was once described on the news as a "laid-back farming community" in the Midwest. There's lots of stuff about Art that we don't "get" here. Like when my real artist niece temporarily left a urinal, on its way to being part of an art show, in my brother's front yard.
But I do find Conceptual Art a useful, er, concept. Much better than, "The dog ate my homework."