Brief-ish

I just spent much longer than I ought typing a student paper into the computer so I can run it for plagiarism. I don't think anything will turn up, but either this student has been hiding her light under a concrete bunker (never mind a bushel) or she's gotten someone to write her last two papers for her--or at very least give her a hell of a lot of "help." But if I can't catch the plagiarism, I'll go ahead and give it the grade it would get if I were sure she wrote it. If she did, she gets the gratification of the good grade. If she didn't, I have to believe it will bite her in the ass somewhere down the line.

I decided to help myself keep working by alternating tasks. Now, when I read a final paper, I'll record the grade, then put together the student's final grade sheet (record all the marks, crunch the numbers, calculate the final grade). That way I won't lose my marbles reading paper after paper after paper after paper.... And there is a certain gratification in getting those grade sheets neatly typed up instead of scrawled by hand.

But I have reached the point where I cannot type (it's taking me four and five tries to get simple words down), can only marginally think, and am essentially useless (not furry enough to make a good rug even). I was rather hoping that taking the time after class to crank through some work would also help me figure out what my body needs for dinner. Other than a stiff drink, I can't think of a thing that sounds right. However, I don't think having just booze for dinner is a terrific idea--under any circumstances, but in particular as I need to be back here tomorrow, grinding through more papers before and after Marian and I work on adjunct schedules.

For now, I'm going to waddle homeward, hoping that some sort of dinner inspiration strikes along the way. Here's hoping for a swift collapse tonight, deep and uninterrupted sleep, and a bright and perky start to the day tomorrow.

As my buddy Jane used to say, "Onward and awkward!"