Grind, grind...

I know that the time is going to whip by; I know we're into the "hang on to the safety bar and scream" part of the roller-coaster ride, but each day feels like being stuck between mill-stones, or being the mill-stones, or being the donkey walking around and around in a circle, turning the mill-stones, or something. I really should have ground one more paper out of myself today (or seven more out of myself over the weekend), but the grind just gets to be too hard to take. And the grind is only going to increase: I'm going to have my hands full getting successive versions of final papers looked at and returned to students over the next three weeks. This week I'm getting first versions from the 102s; next week, first versions from the Short Story class and second versions from 102s; then the next week, second versions from the Short Story class and final versions from the 102s--and then final versions from the Short Story class, and I'm done. But meanwhile, I have the second essays from the Short Story class, which I need to get back to them by Monday so they have a shot at revising, and I'm still collecting logs--and I still have seven more final versions of second papers to grade for the 102 classes (and a few more are still pending).

Jesus, this semester is just a cluster fuck. I'm feeling sick thinking about it.

Two moderately annoying student interactions today. One of the lunks from the earlier 102 wrote to me over the weekend to ask if he could withdraw. I made him come talk to me--and lectured him rather severely about actually working, not counting on charm, or whatever he thinks has gotten him through to this point. The annoying part was watching him try to pretend that the hurricane was sufficient excuse--even though his first major fuck-up was not turning in the first essay. He was all but tying himself into macrame trying to avoid admitting that he simply was ravingly irresponsible all semester long--and I have no patience for it. It isn't cute. Grow up.

The other moment was in the form of an e-mail from a student from the later class who I actually rather like. She's cute and smart (though she, too, hasn't buttoned it up in terms of getting her work in, even before the storm). She's the one who showed up (with her twin) at the end of class on Tuesday last week--and I realize now I probably should have told her to withdraw then. She was very confident that she could read the novel over Thanksgiving, but in her e-mail she asked if I thought she could write her paper without having read the book, if just doing the research was enough. I'm still trying to wrap my brains around the fact that she asked, but I simply said no, she does have to read the book because the bulk of her paper has to be her analysis of the novel, which (obviously) she can't find through research. She wrote back to say that was what she thought, but she'd gotten to chapter 7 and was lost.... Well, Sugar, that's what happens when you miss three weeks of class after the disruption of the hurricane. I wrote back and said (essentially), OK, so what do you intend to do? She didn't even ask about whether she should withdraw, or ask if she could meet with me.... Up until this moment, I'd been thinking I'd encourage her to take the class from me again in the spring, but now I'm not so sure. I'm beginning to suspect she may not be as good a student as I'd given her credit for, and I don't want to have to smack her around for another semester. But she really does need to cut her losses this term. She isn't going to make it.

To end on a positive note (as I like to do, whenever I can), I'm still getting lots of positive feedback in Advisement, students telling me that I'm much more helpful than other advisers they've had. Good. I may not be as "efficient" as some of my colleagues, but the students leave feeling confident and knowledgeable, which I think is the real goal, not to get them in and out as quickly as possible.

But thinking of getting out as quickly as possible, I'm going to fold my tents and steal off into the night. I had intended to make a grocery run and cook up some food that has been in the fridge just about long enough--but I'm reconsidering. I may find a delicious book and take myself out for dinner. Whatever helps get one through, yes? And with luck, when I come in tomorrow, I'll be ready to take on the rest of those papers and knock through them with dispatch. One student is going to meet with me tomorrow to talk about the novel (good plan); I'm wondering if others may want to join us. The more the merrier. But that's tomorrow. Tomorrow is another day. Maybe I'll be stronger. (And as God is my witness, I'll never go hungry again. Sorry, it's completely irrelevant, but it's another Scarlett O'Hara quotation, and since I'm thinking about dinner...)