What I'll miss

I talk incessantly about retirement--broken records have nothing on me--though the date at which that retirement is likely to happen keeps shifting a little (in either direction, depending on the mood of the moment). But last night, I was struck with how dear my friends from the department are. They're not just colleagues; they truly are dear friends, and it will be very hard and sad to move away from them, both in terms of no longer being on campus and in terms of relocating to a different state (or at least a different part of this one). I wish I could take them with me when I go. I know we'll keep in touch, but it's very different to maintain a friendship across the continent and to have the opportunity to revel in it most days of most weeks of the year.

I also will miss interactions with some of my students--like the young woman who came to my office today. I had a hard time reading her. My first impression was that she was not entirely alert. Then I got some of her work and realized she was very alert, very intelligent and articulate. Then she went AWOL, through the whole of the second essay process. She kept saying she wanted to come to see me, but somehow it didn't happen. Today, however, we finally met.

Simply in terms of her work and her grade for the semester, we came to an agreement under which I will grant her an incomplete, so she can write Essay 2 (both versions) and get at least some kind of grade. But talking with her was a revelation. She does--as so many of our students do--come from a family with significant problems; she is in some ways taking care of both of her parents (who are not married), as well as trying to take care of herself. She's suffered some real traumas in her past--though she mentioned those only to acknowledge how different her view of life is now. She has a kind of inner resilience that is going to carry her far, but more to the point, as far as I'm concerned, she has a deeply questioning mind.

She wanted to talk about the topic for the final essay--which is about "social technology"--but she said her difficulty with the topic was that it was making her ask "really existential questions," such as "are we going to stop being human? Can we stop the advancement of technology before it ruins something important in us?"

Well, first: get that girl into my SF class (except she has to pass 102 first, dammit, and by the time she does, I probably won't be teaching SF for a while). But also, let's talk about the importance of asking those existential questions. Let's talk about how people asking difficult questions is the way societies truly advance. We talked about the value of conflict, about mob mentality, about "the silent majority" (noting that people use the silence to assume agreement with their position, instead of recognizing that the silence could be a distaste for confronting their position, not agreement with it). About snotty students in my class. About developing the skills of rational argument--and how that increases one's willingness to speak up (and step out of the silent majority, becoming part of the minority who care enough to be vocal). About the importance of tempering one's emotional reactions with knowledge, data, information, understanding.

We talked for about an hour and a half. And I enjoyed every minute. I also suspect that if I hadn't gently terminated the conversation, we might still be talking.

And she said I'm a cool professor. Scary hard as a teacher, but really cool. How gratifying is that?

Since she left, I've been noodling at the computer. I have a ton of stuff to mark for the SF class--and I've all but promised I'll have it for them on Tuesday (and I really do need to have it before then, as I'll be getting the onslaught of 101 final essays on Monday)--but I am far too tired and addle-brained (thanks to the periodic return of migraine-like symptoms) to read student work. So I reread some of the materials on The Left Hand of Darkness that are up for my students--and found myself enjoying my own writing style. (I think I can be rather funny at times, though of course that's not for me to say.) The students who read some of the materials found them helpful--which they volunteered without my having to ask. (Note to self: save some of the comments from students to put in the publishing proposal.) Also gratifying.

I still have 20 minutes or so of my evening office hour to fulfill, but I think the main office is already closed for the night, and no one has made any appointments with me, so I'm going to take off a smidge early. I have no clue what I'll do about dinner (last night's dinner beat my system to hell, so much so that I couldn't face breakfast until after noon), but being home and quiet feels like a very good idea. I allowed myself a slow, unfocused start to the day today, and I'd like to continue that trend for a bit. I see the comp students five more times (well, four and two days of conferences); I see the SF students six more times. That's it. That light at that end of the tunnel over there may not be the headlights of an oncoming train after all...