"Well, I happen to be their father. And there's very little they can do about it. In theory."*

Bob, our teaching fellow, gave the lecture this morning in my Intro to the Hebrew Bible class. This was not particularly odd.

What was odd, however, was sitting through said lecture with the class professor next to me, glancing at my notes every now and again.

I love Dr. Henze, don't get me wrong. He's wonderful and brilliant and funny, but he does not need to see what I'm writing in my notes. Needless to say, it's not always on topic, and even when it is, it's not always...properly respectful. For example, this morning's lecture was on the death of Moses (Deut. 34, if you're interested—or Catholic and thus unaware), and at one point I wrote this in my notes, evidently forgetting who was next to me: "God said, 'Die,' and Moses said, 'Hey, all right.'" I drew a box around it, and went back to paying attention.

About fifteen seconds later, I heard Dr. Henze snort. I looked at him, and he stabbed his pen in the direction of the box, raising his eyebrows.

Great. Now my prof thinks I'm always writing sarcastic comments in my notes, and not thinking deep thoughts about the greater meaning for the Israelites of Moses' death. My academic career is doomed!

^{*Dr. Henze on his sons. Written in my notes the day we talked about biblical authority.}