Grateful for the cancellation--and the unprepared

When I arrived this morning, my docket was booked solid, students back to back to back. "OK," I thought, "Now it begins." And I did, in fact, see two students back to back--both young women, both in developmental stages of writing (but, mercifully, not ESL). And then my third appointment showed up. This was the young man who came last week with whatever fell out of his left ear, not having read the article to which he was supposed to respond. I had to step out of the office for a moment and passed him, waiting; I said I'd be with him in just a moment--and he said, "I'm working on it now." I glanced at his laptop. He had the heading and one sentence.

When I came back to the office, he had the heading and three sentences. I gave him a little feedback on the first sentence; no, I explained, you don't need to "cite" anything, as you haven't used any specific information from the article yet--but you do need to be more specific in your first sentence than "This article." Give the author and title. He wasn't sure how to do that. Just replace "This article" with the title and author. He started writing "This article, which is entitled..." and I stopped him. Nope. Just "The article 'Whatever the title is' by whoever the author is...." and then continue with the sentence. So he wrote in the article title, then opened the article on his laptop to find out the author and, oh, oops: he'd sort of approximated the title. I said, No, the title has to be word for word exactly what you see in front of you. Once he did that, I said, "OK, at least now you're doing what the assignment requires, which is to begin with a summary--but I really can't help you until you've actually completed the assignment. Make another appointment, with me or someone else [subtext: someone else, please!!], and bring in a printout of the completed essay, so you have something to work with." He agreed that might make sense--then offered me an unopened can of Coke. So, diagnosis: very sweet and well-intentioned, but missing some cognitive connection that's pretty essential. Can't tell whether he can come up with strategies to compensate, but at the moment, he sure doesn't have them.

In any event, I had time before my next appointment and began to noodle (or fritter)--and then saw the schedule update and my last appointment had canceled. Oh happy day.

Here's the thing. The actual work I do here is completely fine, even enjoyable in many cases. I work here a grand, whopping total of 12 hours a week, and the rest of the week is entirely mine to do with as I please. And all I can think when I'm here is that I don't actually want to see any students, and would rather noodle, fritter--or even be marginally productive and write or research--at home. Clearly, I was more ready for this whole retirement thing than I knew.

I am flattered, though, that I have repeat students--including, now, one of the young women I saw earlier today. She is a bit hard to work with as she is so desperate to do well that she justifies and explains to the point that it's hard to get through to her what she needs to do, but I hope that with some encouragement--and practice--she'll get confident enough to stop deflecting and listen. I seem to be working with a number of students from one particular colleague's classes--and I have a hunch that some of my colleagues are specifically telling their students to look for me when they come to the WC, which is also flattering.

Nevertheless, I am actually looking forward to spring break--which is ridiculous, as I am the furthest possible thing from stressed with work, but that siren call of the noodles and fritters in my own home is pretty powerful.

Now, I am about to clock out here and head over to the office. If I didn't have a "date" with Paul, I might not, even though I truly, desperately need a lot of time in the office so I can continue that cleaning out process. But I do have an agreement to meet Paul there, after P&B adjourns, and in the interstice, I'll return to shoveling out files. Or maybe I'll embark on one of the bookcases. Hmmm. In any event, something to clear away the accumulated detritus of 17 years (plus grad school and whatever was in my office at the Met that I carried over with me). My pack rat tendencies are manifest. Time to pick a new "spirit animal." What's an animal that throws things away with abandon?