Saved by my students

I am continually, perpetually grateful for the SF class. My personal life is the shits right now, and we had a brutal P&B meeting, in which Cathy detailed all the insane decisions that are being rammed down our throats by a clueless administration--or that may be rammed down our throats, anyway; we're still fighting, though Cathy said she wasn't sure whether it was more ethical to resign as chair of one of key college-wide committees she's on or whether to stay in there and fight what may turn out to be multiple losing battles. I should find mordant humor in it, which is Paul's coping technique (it truly is ridiculous; could be presented as is on stage as farce). Instead, I kept tearing up--and when the meeting was over, I came back to the office and cried. I had to pull my socks up, metaphorically speaking, as I had to go teach, but there was a moment there when I simply had to break down--just for a moment.

Cathy saw that I was on the verge of tears and said, "Don't cry; it isn't worth it." She's right, of course--except this is not just what I do; this is who I am. Everything I hold most worthy is being eviscerated; everything I take pride in having become is being treated as meaningless. I don't know how Paul survived his two years in the belly of this particular beast. In today's meeting--which was just a report on the debacle, not actually having to try to slug it out, which Cathy has to do, repeatedly--all I could think was, "I have to get out of here." I didn't mean the meeting, either: I meant all of it. This job, this career, this location. Tell Cathy I resign, effective immediately, pack up my apartment, find a nice rental in Montana and move.

Yesterday, I was ferociously cranky at the start of class--exacerbated by the fact that I logged off the computer, certain I'd be able to log back on to show students everything I wanted to show them, only to find that I could not, in fact, log on, and neither could my students. (OK, so reboot and do everything on the blackboard, which is what I used to do--but students are so incredibly visual, I know it didn't land as well as it would have.) The class ended up going fine, once I got into it and calmed down a bit, but it was all I could do not to throw things and swear.

Today, I was a bit afraid I'd be similarly cranky, but as I was walking down the hall toward the class, I heard the buzz of conversation. They weren't all in their own little worlds on their phones; they were talking to each other--some of them even talking about the reading. The groups went well, too. I was a bit concerned, as one group had two of the very brightest young men in it but in the past one of them (I'll have to find a moniker for him) had rolled his eyes at something the Brilliant Brit was saying, and I was afraid there was some antipathy there. But it seems not. In fact, if I remember correctly, the two of them were part of a small group who were talking before I arrived (about the Han Solo movie, I think).

Of course, as soon as I left the classroom, some of the weight of unhappiness settled on my shoulders again--but only some of it. I don't feel--at the moment anyway--the need to bolt for the escape hatch.

The online Nature in Lit is getting a bit more bumpy; students are rather falling down on the posting (or on posting on time at any rate). Whatever else I do in the next day or two, I do need to grade all their posts from last week. I have P&B stuff to do, too, which I keep blissfully forgetting, and the usual attempt to keep on top of the student assignments. But the online course needs to come first. My personal life derailed the usual weekend work on the class, so I need to get myself caught up before things snowball for me, never mind for the students.

I am spectacularly tired, too--more than the usual lack of sleep having its toll on me. I may end up bailing on Advisement tomorrow, though it's early in the semester for that solution to be required. Tomorrow, I get first versions of essays from the 101 students. Most of the conferences are on Monday, so it will be a busy weekend with that--but unless some students who have gone AWOL suddenly materialize tomorrow (unlikely), after Monday I'll have very little to do. Apparently, somewhere between three and six students were so daunted that they've already bailed on the class--which leaves me with fourteen in the class, of whom several were absent yesterday, when I distributed the conference sign-up. I think I may refuse Monday appointments to anyone who wasn't in class yesterday...

I'm sure there's more to be said (isn't there always?) but I see the wall approaching at an alarming speed. I have things packed up so I can go straight to Advisement tomorrow, without having to stop in the office. (I've been running a bit late these days, so I'm trying to compensate.) I have to do a little life maintenance. I have to get home and start winding down so I have a chance at getting some sleep.

And tomorrow is, as we all know all too well, not today but another one.