Playing catch-up

The title of this post could refer to me or to the student who showed up to Native American Lit for the first time today. I knew he looked familiar but couldn't place him: it turns out, I saw him in Advisement, and he liked me well enough to take the class, even though he's not a great student in English and even though I told him I'm tough. Poor guy: he's so behind at this point, I don't know if he can possibly get caught up, but I don't want to scare him off. I was telling Kayla yesterday that in my years teaching, I've never yet had a student who missed the first three classes make it through to the end of the term--but I feel it's important to give them the chance. Maybe someday, someone will surprise me. Maybe it will be this young man.

He did come to the office after class, and we talked a good while about the syllabus, journal/logs, upcoming mini-paper. He held up well under the deluge of information (not apres moi, but dans le même temps que moi), but I know he must be deeply confused. Even the students who've been there from day one are still struggling to get the hang of things; I can't imagine trying to make sense of it all at this juncture. But we did talk about priorities of assignments, how to work on literature, and he's very sweet about his insecurities, so of course I'm offering him all sorts of help, as much as I can stand.

Today, poor Mr. Irrepressible was utterly repressed: I think he was ill, or had a fierce headache at least--but he was, as a consequence, able to participate in a well-mannered and useful way. One student was back after a death in the family--and obviously one that affected her deeply. She's an older student, so I believe her emotional reaction (I know some youngsters turn on the waterworks over a completely fabricated excuse, little drama queens and kings). She'd e-mailed me earlier to explain the situation, and after class, she thanked me for my e-mailed response and apologized to me for the low quality of the work she was turning in. When I told her I understood her situation, the tears welled up in her eyes. I'm letting students revise their first journals, so I told her not to worry about it--and to take care of herself. Ah, god, it's hard, isn't it, being a person in the world and having to continue to function when awful things happen.

But I have another "Irrepressible" problem in that class: my senior observer. I've had her in a class before, and she was relatively restrained today--she's gotten better about not blurting out responses before the students can say anything--but she can't be taught not to bring me every article, notice, flier, postcard or gum-wrapper that she finds interesting. I adore her enthusiasm, her vivacity, her boundless curiosity (and that she calls me "kiddo"), but I just can't match her energy or range of interests. Next to "stick in the mud" in the dictionary is a photo of me.

Nature in Lit went fine, too. The students struggled with Bacon's philosophical aphorisms (all but my former student, who is this term's Wonder Boy), and I thanked them for doing the heavy lifting with me. One student in the class has been telling me about an illness and other complicating factors in his life; I'm bending over backward to allow him to submit work, as I think he at least has the ability to do well. I think I may have lost one or two (one of them a late addition to the class--another student I'd seen in Advisement; he was there one day, seemed in a systemic snit, and I've not seen him since), but those remaining are hanging on OK. So far. Five of them. Oof. Man, I hope I keep them until the end of the term. I may have to check in with them next week to see if I should lighten the load in terms of the writing....

On the P&B front, not much progress, but a little. I got one folder read, at least, and can now address the questions/problems with the applicant--and begin to draft the cover letter. There are two more folders that I am responsible for mentoring (and for which I must write letters), and a bunch more that I should read and respond to just as back-up for the mentors. Oh, and I also have to check the personnel files for the ones I'm mentoring, to make sure all the requisite paperwork is in place. (Of course, I can't remember right now what it is I'm supposed to look for; I'll have to humiliate myself and ask--again. I ask every year; I cannot remember.) All that business must be done in the next week or so, as the applicants have to have them completely perfectly finished before March 1--and we're on break the week before that. Oof again.

Given that load of work, I'm wondering if I can make myself come to the office tomorrow to crank through at least the two I'm mentoring, and get a draft of the letters going. I hate the idea like a snail hates salt, but this may be one of those cases where the torture of doing it will be less painful than the stress of extending the process. But we'll see. Which is, of course, my mantra, along with "tomorrow is another day."

Which it is: Tomorrow actually is another day. A true fact, as my father would have said. And today is as done as it's going to get, here on campus. I'm packing my troubles--or at least my water bottles and some work stuff--in my old kit bag, though whether I'll smile, smile, smile remains to be seen.