Oh, that's right: I have a blog

I kinda keep forgetting I even have this blog. I got out of the habit of writing (and out of the habit of teaching), and now--like the vast majority of my readers--I tend to forget that this thing even exists.

I will say, also, that I truly was under quite the deluge there. I think I said that I managed to get the class up and running by last Monday (though that was quite the sprint), and I believe I mentioned that I also had some freelance editing work landing in my lap at the same time. That wasn't much, just enough to make me feel those pearls dropping and clattering around the floor. And on top of that, I volunteered to do what I thought would be a very simple job for my mother--a job that actually ended up being a snorting pain in the ass that devoured two and a half days of my time. I mean, I was really nailed to the computer, could barely allow myself time to get up to take care of necessary bodily functions (ahem). William kept reminding me that I mustn't take time to sneeze. ("Achoo! Dammit, I don't have time for this!!")

But there's now a lull. I'll be getting more on the larger of the freelance gigs soon--we hope by end of this week, but that's quite the "yeeks!" deadline, as the whole boiling has to go to press at the end of next week. I see another frantic weekend in my future. Of course, I could say to the NYPL, "Sorry: a crisis on your part doesn't necessitate panic on my part. I cannot do this in the time allotted; you'll have to figure out something else." But this is my first job for them, and I do want more jobs from them, so I figure it behooves me to just be superlatively fast and efficient and wait until I'm deeply entrenched there before I start dropping the football, as it were.

I also have evaluated the first batch of assignments from my class, and of course many seem to be adhering to the philosophy of "let me see what the minimum is that I can manage to do." I was about to take them all to task for that, but then I thought, no: let me see if they actually read my comments (and the handouts that explain my expectations) and at least try to improve next week. If not, then perhaps I will get fierce with them. Of course, as I told Paul, whether I send a course announcement or an email, any screed of mine will reach the students who don't need it and not the ones who do.

At present, seven of twenty-four are utterly AWOL. One who registered on Saturday asked for an extension, which I granted; she said she'd have the work to me by 4 p.m. today--and even Rocky Mountain Time, it's after 4, with nary a peep from the student. Another student was disenrolled for financial reasons. I said he could certainly re-enroll, as far as I was concerned, and at that time there were seats available--but Cathy said she'd take care of it today, and in the interim, the class filled to the brim again. She has two options: overload my class (a precedent she has driven herself nuts not to set: the department policy has been a firm "no" on overloads and "we" want to keep it that way) or see if someone else will take him into another section, though there he'll be two weeks behind the curve. (I don't think there are any seats in the other "late start" section or sections.) Well, that's her mess to clean up, not mine. If I could have taken care of it without her getting involved, I would have, but she needed to sign off on the reinstatement of the student and ... well, there we are. I'll be curious to see what she decides.

Today I realized I've been slipping into a pattern I do not want to foster, of holing up inside the house and, when not being prodded down the chute of work, doing things that are utterly mindless. I tried to do some reading of substance during my "office hour" (which I'm regretting even setting up, as it nails me to the computer for those hours each week when chances of anyone taking advantage of the time are vanishingly slim). But I realized I was A) perpetually checking to see whether a student was lingering in the hall, figuratively speaking and B) worrying about how it actually works when a student does want to participate. I mean, do I get some kind of little "ding" or "beep" from the computer, or is the student just suddenly, silently there? I'm going to ask for test subjects: anyone who wants to visit me online during an office hour just so I can see how it works. I thought briefly about offering a few extra points for that, but no: they get enough extra credit as is. I'll just offer the Brownie points. (Maybe I should offer a badge...? I used to love getting those when I was a Brownie and a Girl Scout.)

As for my own writing, qu'est que c'est? Maybe one of these years I'll get back to playing around with that whole notion. Actually, maybe the combination of a recent sense that work is done on the computer with a lull in the monetized work will get me sitting here at the keyboard but doing something more productive than playing online jigsaw puzzles. (Really. I love them. A total brain-rot activity, but oh, let's rot that brain.)

And let us all now intone: "we'll see."