A shock to the system

Poor Paul: he came into the office after P&B to see a completely empty shelf on the top of my bookcase, and the absence of presence was a bit of a shock. To me, too, actually. I moved a bunch of books into a boxes that will be too heavy (and impossible to close) but that at least begin to segregate what I'm keeping from what I'm letting go. I found a bunch more books to donate to the campus library, and I've left several large stacks next to "my" computer for Paul and William to flip through to see if there is anything they want. Whatever they don't want goes downstairs to be set free into the world--or maybe I'll start donating to Better World Books. They have a large collection bin outside my local public library, and surely someone somewhere in the world would be happy to have Matthew Arnold's Culture and Anarchy, or Jacques Derrida's Writing and Difference, among many others.

I also started to develop an "I'm not sure" stack, but then I thought, "If I'm not sure, the answer is 'no.' I'm only keeping things I absolutely know I want." And, in fact, there are a lot that are now in the "I want this" pile that I may reconsider, specifically almost a shelf's worth of nature writing anthologies of various stripes.

And I realized I have a copy of The Mayor of Casterbridge, which I don't recall reading, though I know the basic story from the 2003 miniseries starting the incomparable Ciaran Hinds. I have a bunch of library books already lined up for my next reads, but that classic is going into the rotation for sure.

At the moment, because I'm running out of box space, I have moved a bunch of the books I want to keep to that top shelf of the bookcase, to help reduce the shock factor for Paul, next time he comes in, and for William. And in terms of overall logistics of getting things from this office to Montana, I'm also trying to figure out what I should do with the boxes of books I'm keeping once I've packed them up--and what to do with the artwork I have on the walls, or all the things on my bulletin boards--wich really, I don't need to keep but probably will. I think I'm going to need an entire cork wall wherever I end up living, so I can put up all the things I have on the bulletin boards here and at home. And yes, that's kinda pack-ratty. Sue me.

As for students, I met with Annabelle today. She's having to shift gears away from her research, as she now has to write an argumentative essay. A lot of what I worked on today was getting her to understand that, in order to have an argument that is supported by two assigned readings, she needs to fully grasp the intention and point of those readings, which, of course, she doesn't. She started the session today by saying she can't "see outside the box" the way her professor can. I didn't tell her that her professor is actually seeing in the box, not outside it, just more deeply than students tend to--but I did tell her that learning to do what her professor does is part of her intellectual growth as a college student: it's a skill she has to work on acquiring. (Not an idea that was met with wild excitement, I must say.) I won't see her again before that essay is due, but she also showed me the professor's comments and grade on the first essay I helped her with. Between when I saw her last and when she submitted the essay, she decided to add some things--and, since this is Annabelle we're talking about--what she added just led her down rabbit trails and didn't connect to her overall point. Sigh. She's an odd one: she cares enough to keep coming to the Center for help, but she doesn't care enough to really learn. I think she comes to the Center hoping we'll do the real heavy lifting for her; as a lovely bit of irony, part of her argument in the forthcoming essay will include the idea that it's wrong to depend too heavily on someone other than one's self. True that.

I then met with a student I'd not seen before, nicely structured essay but significant ESL errors. I was less than impressed with the assignment, though. One thing that is discouraging about working in the Center is seeing some of the assignments given by my colleagues. There are too many softballs (virtually of the "tell about your summer vacation" variety) and too many where the actual aims of the assignment are unclear (compare and contrast to do what, exactly?). I'm such a goody-two-shoes that I'm always on the verge of ratting people out to the chair, but then ... not my responsibility. I help the students as much as I can and leave it at that.

A third appointment had been scheduled, with Earning Honors, but, uncharacteristically, he was a no-show. I hope he's OK; it really is unlike him to simply not appear. But his absence allowed me to continue to work on adding all my committee crapola to my CV. I realized that I did have a brief listing of the committees at the end of the document, but I didn't have anything about what I actually did on the committees. Now I do--but probably way too much. At some point I'll print the sucker and go through it carefully with my editorial pencil in hand. I'm not in a blazing hurry about that, however.

In a slight disappointment for the day, I heard back from the Writing Lab of the community college in the town where I will be living come fall. They don't have enough traffic to warrant hiring me; in fact, their entire staff is the director, who is full time, and one part-time tutor. But then it occurred to me to see what their enrollment is. They have about 1,500 students, compared to NCC's 16,000--and that's down from 23,000 when I started here. So, yeah: I can see why they wouldn't need much staff for their lab.

On the other hand, one of my Facebook contacts suggested I get in touch with a person she knows who is a professor in the English department there (adored by students, esteemed poet, as she explained). He may have some insight into what's possible. It's nice to have the lead, though I probably won't follow up on it immediately. Still kinda wrapping my head around the idea of even applying for adjunct teaching.

At this exact moment, I'm waiting to hear from Paul that he's ready to meet me for dinner. We haven't selected a place yet, but I really don't care. I'm just delighted we'll have a chance to talk somewhere other than the office. Maybe with an alcoholic beverage in the picture somewhere. At my request, we're not doing a steak blowout: neither my digestive system nor my wallet can handle that whammy at the moment. But otherwise, we have many options. We'll see what appeals when he's ready to head out.

In the meanwhile, I'll do a little more cleaning out: carrying interoffice envelopes downstairs to the main office, looking through binders of materials I put together for various classes to see if I want to keep any of it (including the binders)--my hunch is probably not--that sort of thing. Maybe I'll pull out a few more books for the "boys" to consider. Or maybe I'll just sit quietly and read the library book that's in my bag at the moment.