The Observer and The Observed

First thing today was my observation of one of our "newbies," Matt. All new hires have to be observed in their first year of appointment by a member of P&B and by the chair--and I think by the dean as well. I also have to observe a colleague who is going up for full professor (I need to check my calendar to remember when the blazes we scheduled that--and to be sure I'm not forgetting someone). Matt's class was great: he's wicked smart, and I am already ripping off some of his language and approach to the thorny problem of thesis statements. I was, somewhat unfortunately, observing a section of retiring and hesitant students; clearly there were a few sharp cookies in the bunch, but Matt had to let some of the silences hang for quite some time before a student would even make eye contact long enough for Matt to encourage a response. Yet he did a great job pulling those teeth (as it were). I like that he didn't pounce on anyone who seemed dazed and confused. (I don't think trapping students in their unpreparedness is helpful; I think it merely scares everyone into silence. I know some believe it keeps students on their toes, but I feel that is more a "fight or flight" reaction than genuine attentiveness.) The funny thing is, I was enjoying the fact that Matt was completely comfortable and confident during the observation--until near the end of the lesson I suddenly thought, "I wonder if he's nervous." I have no idea why the idea popped into my head, but it turns out he was nervous. Yet despite that random thought, seriously, I'd never have known if he hadn't fessed up. He seemed every millimeter the confident, relaxed master of his subject and his classroom.

I must say I find it fascinating to watch other professors do their thing. Some pedagogical approaches resonate more strongly with me than others, but even when I am uncomfortable with a colleague's tactics, I am fascinated.

Oddly, I was not in the least nervous about Bruce observing my class, even though the students were desperately struggling not only with the reading but also with my study questions--which, in retrospect, I can see were phrased as if the kids were grad students, not the sophomores they are. I am simply unbearably awful at a) being concise (no shit) and 2) translating from my language into theirs. But the students were terrific: they started talking to me about their concerns the instant I walked in. I engaged in the conversation with them, but I also asked them to hang on to their questions until we could officially begin, as I didn't want those yet to arrive to miss out. Ultimately they made smart connections and demonstrated that they had gotten more out of the critical material than they thought. Some still do not get the difference between critical material and literature (and I know, no matter what I do, I'm going to get papers that get it wrong), but I think we're getting closer. I went into class meaning to postpone the papers to Wednesday (since I won't be marking them next week anyway) but as we got caught up in the conversation, I thought, "Oh, hell, let's just leave it alone." They'd have loved me for the postponement, but honestly, it felt like just one more thing to keep track of.

Making a segue from keeping track to removing some of my self-imposed pressure, somewhere between last night and this morning I suddenly thought, "Why do I have to have all the papers for Monday conferences on my door on Thursday morning? I never have before." So I announced to today's 101 the change in policy: Monday conferencees who have early appointments will find their papers on my door tomorrow a.m. as initially promised. Those with later appointments will find them Monday a.m. Of course, students in my T/Th sections still expect to find papers for Monday appointments on my door first thing tomorrow, and at least one of those students will probably anxiously look for hers the second they're supposed to appear. Instead, she--and any other T/Th student looking for a paper tomorrow--will see a note that grading is in progress. But they'll survive. They'll have the entire weekend to look over comments, and the revision isn't due until yet another weekend has gone by. But that one woman is wildly nervous about her work: she's an adult and has some ESL problems, and she desperately wants to do well, so I feel a little guilty that she may be left hanging for a while.

Anyway, it is nice to see one of the stacks of papers already whittled down significantly (and I'm refusing to focus on the other enormous stacks right now. I'm taking my triumphs where and how I can.) I also feel good about today's 101 lesson on revision and works cited pages. That probably means I'll feel less happy tomorrow (every class I do the lesson slightly differently, and I almost always think either, "Shit, I did that so much better in the other section" or "Shit, I wish I'd done that in the other section; this way was much better." Or both.) Still, I think this is the first semester that I've so carefully gone over works cited pages prior to their revisions. WC pages are not required on first versions of first papers but become a requirement with the revisions--and yet in the past I have pretty much tossed them into the deep end and then tried to rescue them after the fact. My logic has always been that it's easier to understand the wretched things when one is working with something concrete, not in the abstract, but we made it concrete enough today that I think it worked. Or worked for those who care enough to pay attention, take notes, and do what I recommended (i.e., use the fucking style guide). I'll know more when I get the revisions.

I almost forgot: during class there was suddenly a little flurry among the students and when I looked over, one of the young women said, "Professor, there's a weirdo out in the hall. He's standing in the corner and he keeps showing his tushie." Took me a minute to sort out that this weirdo was literally mooning the class and by the time I got to the door to see what was going on, I was just in time to see the top of his head as he ran down the stairs. It took us a while to get settled down again (and I asked them all to contact public safety if they saw him again or could give a description of him)--and the student who had explained the problem then started to tease herself about having said "tushie." Well, in the shock of the moment, who knows what vocabulary will come to mind? Anyway, that's a new one for me. It's always an adventure....

Oh, AND, shifting gears yet again (I'm going to wear out the metaphoric clutch at this rate), Bruce wanted to talk to me after he observed my class, but I was besieged by students, so instead I dropped by his office when I was done. We talked a little about the observation but then we got into a fascinating conversation about linguistics (Bruce is a linguist), arising from the fact that one of the students in 229 is interested in exploring language use: what it means in terms of their identity for Native Americans to use English (and occasional words from their native tongues). We talked like actual scholars for a little bit. It was a blast. More more more, please! Jeez, it's nice to feel those brain muscles get a teeny stretch from time to time.

And what the hell am I still doing in the office? I have to be back here in 12 hours (oh GAWD). How many ends can any one candle have? I'm burning both ends plus a couple of spots in the middle it seems.

Yes, I'm talking about you...

Fun moment in RB section of 101 today. Students were working on peer review of papers and signing up for conferences, always a little chaotic to multitask, and one student realized he didn't know where my office was. However, since his brain was obviously in too many places at once, he called out to me, "Where's the thing, Miss Thing?" (Yes, if you're reading this, you know who you are--or if you're his classmate, you know who I'm talking about. Ahem, about whom I am talking. Gack.) I'd already corrected him about calling me "Mrs. Payne" (Mrs??). He had quickly corrected that to Professor, and damned good thing too (she says teasingly), but, I beg your pardon, Miss Thing?? This became a comedy routine of me teasing him pretty relentlessly. Bless his heart, he was a sport about it, and the other students were pretty amused. Levity: it's a wonderful pedagogical tool. One student also asked about whether a phrase he had used was too close to the original, so I did my little "When in doubt, in terms of quotation, paraphrase, documentation, CYA." I always ask if anyone knows what CYA means--occasionally I have a student who was in the military who knows--and when I say, "It means cover your ass" they are tickled. "Omigod, Professor said ass!!" The student who is reading this blog knows I say a lot worse than that.

And I was delighted to find that a student is reading this blog. When I was teasing Mr. Thing, I said I'd have to put the event in the blog. (I do love it when we have fun together; these are moments I live for as a teacher.) Anyway, that's how I found out this young woman is reading it. I have the link posted on my faculty home page, but I have always rather assumed that if students go to the home page at all, they only go to download a needed document and never look at anything else. I came to find out, not only is one young woman following the blog, another in the same class had read the little "about me" section of the home page. Very cool beans. I know they like to "get under the hood" as Paul says (i.e., figure out what makes us work--and indeed, Mr. Think asked why I blog, which I'll have to write about some other time), but I truly felt a little "aw shucks" about their interest--or like Sally Field accepting her Oscar. (Reference the students surely don't know.)

So that was fun--and even better, the class was well attended; only one student showed up without a paper (and was asked to leave once he'd signed up for his conference; I thought he'd begun to turn around, too, so that was disappointing). One e-mailed to say her paper would be late. So that only leaves I think two completely unaccounted for. In KC, however, there were 14 students in the room with papers--and 11 no shows. Not only no-shows for class, I haven't heard boo from them about getting their papers to me. I think they willfully forget that the late penalty for papers is per day, not per class, so they think handing the paper in on Thursday won't be a problem. It will. Two full letter grades off: ouch.

And I've told them that I am so draconian in my late paper policy because I was (and am) the world's worst procrastinator. As an undergrad, I'd only turn a paper in on time if I was faced with a similar horrifying penalty. Ah well. They'll learn. Maybe not in my class, this semester, but in time, they'll learn.

In any event, now I have 12 papers to grade by 10 a.m. Thursday. (I graded one, just to feel I'd done something.) I observe a colleague tomorrow at 9:30, am observed myself at 11, have a one-class break, teach a class--and then have to grind through as many of those 12 as I can. It can take me up to half an hour per paper: try as I might, I just can't seem to get it down much below that, not and feel like I'm giving the students the feedback they need. Many colleagues tell me I mark too much, that students will be overwhelmed, won't read 99% of the comments, won't know what to focus on. But when I ask the students (granted, usually the ones who've made it to the end of the semester), almost across the board they say they like the extensive comments. They may not be able to respond to all of them, but they like getting them. And now that I have them write a little report on my comments--which ones seem the most important and how they will address them in revision--I just can't make myself do less, despite what it does to my nerves, my sleep, even my eating habits.

I got one piece of P&B business done today (read and responded to a first draft of a sabbatical application). I also have a promo application to review, but the draft deadline for those is later (for my promo app, too, thank God), so I'll have to tell that colleague that I'll give her feedback as soon as I can. I'm not sure how this weekend will go. (No ride, that's for sure.) I may have to use my promo folder and my colleague's as my brain breaks from grading (instead of reading more of Barnaby Rudge, or taking a monster nap, which I would infinitely prefer).

I spent a tiny bit of time today talking with Paul about ideas for my own scholarship. I can't do more than dream about that now (I think of what I have to do in the next few weeks and I have panic attacks), but at least ideas are percolating. It proves that my own academic chops have not completely--well, done whatever chops do when they don't work any more. Atrophied?

And now, once again, I'm heading home late enough that I'm going to have a hard time winding down enough to get to sleep early enough to get up early enough.... Ye gods, I don't know what kind of carnival ride this is, but I will be very happy when it stops (December 22, while I'm winging off to Montana, doing final grading and grade crunching on the plane). I'm getting dizzy (sometimes literally: ah, stress, ain't it grand)--but the up side of tempus fugit is that it fugits on all levels: things come up unbelievably quickly but they also will be over before one knows it.

Still, imagine having a 3-2 load instead of 4-4.... I yearn.

Trudging

In the ridiculous movie A Knight's Tale (starring Heath Ledger and Paul Bettany, among others), Geoffrey Chaucer appears, stark naked, walking down the road. When the people he has just passed him ask what he is doing, he says, "Trudging." He then goes on to say something about "trudging" being a slow, dispirited and persevering movement.... I don't remember the exact bit (I should get it right: it's amusing--or at least it is as delivered by Bettany). Anyway, that's what I feel like I'm doing. Not quite dispirited (and fully clothed, though I don't think nudity is a requirement of the activity), but yes, trudging. Metaphorically of course. I chip away at the huge, steaming piles of student assignments, knowing more are poised to fall about my ears like snow off a heavily laden branch--and with a similarly chilling and uncomfortable effect. But on I trudge.

Class-wise it was a relatively easy day today. The kids in 229 did a great job--those of them who actually had their books and reading journals (six received a "no books" absence, including Mr. Gun, who stewed about it for a while and then left in a snit [a small Yugoslavian car...]). I should have been enforcing that policy all along, but I've gotten to the point that it truly bugs the shit out of me, so now, no wiggle room. No excuse for anyone not to have the book or at least photocopied pages. (I'm doing the same in my 101s). But that's beside the point. The discussion, about two contemporary Native American stories, was terrific. I wish Bruce had been there to observe today. They did great work in groups, and were enthusiastic and quite smart in the whole-class discussion. I'm not sure they'll be so expressive on Wednesday (when I actually will be observed): they'll be responding to another critical reading, which I know will be a struggle. But it's cool when they do the heavy lifting, and all I have to do is sort of direct traffic.

The 101 today was also easy, as it was peer review of drafts day. Oops, I beg your pardon: not drafts, versions. I insist that I do not want a work in progress or anything rough: I want something they think is perfect. Then we'll take that apart and make their best work better. I think that is important: they need to understand that what they bring into class is not the best they can be. But I think there is also value in showing them how to get from really rough ideas to something polished, so I may at some point have to reconsider how I structure teaching revision--and how to do it in a way that does not create exponentially more work for me. Hmmm. Still kicking that one around.

I also observed a colleague today, very cool class. She'd given the students a provocative reading and asked them to consider very interesting questions about the author's bias, how we can detect it, how he works to "manipulate" us into seeing the issue his way. Her approach and questions led to genuine critical thinking: the students were quite wonderful in their responses, as well as making good use of evidence from the text. Maybe I should ask her to come teach all my classes?

Tomorrow I'm expecting a slightly rougher day. For one thing, the T/Th sections haven't signed up for their conferences yet (I do mandatory conferencing in the week between first version and revision of their first papers), so I have to take class time getting that set up, and it will distract them from their focus on each others' papers. The T/Th sections also seem to be a little more, um, lively (especially RB; I'm always hauling them out of the chandeliers), so I'm not sure how well they'll focus even without that distraction. But I'm getting better--i.e. more succinct--in explaining the process. I used to give a two-page handout about what to do. I now write four bullet points on the board (maybe it's five; I don't want to think long enough to count).

And I'll have to get up at 0-dark-30 (as Daddy used to say) to plow through as much as I can before that first class. The P&B folder review I meant to do this afternoon got put aside in favor of student work I needed to have out of my hair so it doesn't get lost in the shuffle--and (following a motif here) I was also shuffling papers, making sure I have handouts at least for the rest of this week and next. I have this horrible feeling I'm going to forget a crucial handout at just the wrong moment. Bonnie described working with a particular director as being like standing next to someone whose strand of pearls had just broken: that idea of precious things bouncing around and falling through cracks and hiding in corners.... OK, so maybe that's me. Or I'm trudging and my strand of pearls has just broken?

Oh, and one more good note: the last student to leave 101 today is a young man who always writes terrific stuff in his reading journals and never says a word in class. I asked him why he doesn't speak up, and although he admitted he never raised his hand, he didn't have an answer why not. I said, "I can't force you to participate, but I want to encourage you to. You have really great ideas, and it would do wonderful things for the class if you would share them." He gave me a dazzling smile and said he'd try. I hope he does. That's a light that should definitely not be under a bushel or any other stifling object.

But I'm about to stifle myself--or am already stifled, or am the stifling object, or something. The wall and I have met once again in a less than loving embrace.

Saturday p.m.

Almost 7, it'll be after by the time I'm done blogging. I got a little more than half-way through the silted up assignments for 229--and am discouraged, not because I'm not getting them marked fast enough (well, that too, but not primarily), but because the study questions approach to critical material doesn't seem to be working. I think I mentioned in a previous post that since students always struggle with the difference between primary and secondary material--and don't know what to do with the secondary stuff--instead of having them use the same reading journal form for both kinds of writing, I decided to have them answer study questions on the secondary. The study questions always include prompts along the lines of "how would you use this to help you analyze the literature?" And still, many students just paraphrase the critical material, or interpret it (sometimes they even interpret it pretty well), but they leave out the step of using it as support.

I grant you, there are some who interpret the secondary material beautifully and make intelligent connections to the literature. A few even show improvement from the first set of study questions to the latest, so either their group discussions have helped or something I've said in class has made a difference. But I'm at a loss for the rest of them. This may be one of those unfortunate things I just have to let go: the ones who don't get it may just not get it, and there may be nothing I can do to bring them along. That's always a difficult acknowledgment for me, however. I always think I'll find that magic bullet, so even if they can't do it well, at least they understand what they're supposed to be doing.

Poor Mr. "I'll bring my gun" is, as I predicted, struggling. He doesn't seem able to understand even the simplest of the readings--or at least he isn't able to express anything that indicates understanding in his journals. Mr. "I've missed the first week of classes but I'll get caught up" is, in fact, pretty well caught up on his assignments--but I am not so sure about what he's gotten out of them. So far, I'm distinctly underwhelmed by his work. Another student already has five absences (six = failure or withdrawal, no other options; at five he suffers a final grade penalty. He's turned in virtually nothing, and what he has turned in demonstrates pretty much complete incomprehension.) Two others have four absences (also a grade penalty), one because he has serious health problems, the other for reasons unknown. I'm trying to work with the young man with the health problems, but I'm just not sure what I can do past a certain point. The other student is one of the apparently very smart ones: he may think that his intelligence will get him by, but he's only turned in one assignment in addition to all the absences, so he may have to think again.

I also suddenly remembered that I'm doing two observations this week (tempus fugit): one on Monday and one on Wednesday (the class period before I am, in turn, observed by Bruce). So I need to read at least the materials to prep for the Monday observation, though I may let the stuff for Wednesday pickle for a little while longer. Monday afternoon is already set aside for looking at the folders for the folks I'm mentoring for sabbatical/promotion. And it's gotten to that time: I have to check my syllabi for a few days soon when I can cancel class to work on my own folder. I'm at least carrying home the documents for my folder that I have collected here in the office, plus the minutes of all the committees I've been on, so I can see when I attended (when I was even a member on some) and what, if anything, I did.

Oh argh. blatherblatherblather. If this semester doesn't turn me into a gibbering lunatic, I'll be eligible for some kind of hall of fame just for survival. Colleague Duane once described another colleague as running around like his ass was on fire. That succinctly describes my current method of propulsion.

Funny to be in the office after dark. Pretty soon, this will be a very common occurance (as the days get shorter and we finally stop saving daylight). It's actually kinda cozy. And I don't mind being all alone here in Bradley. I play my music without fear of bugging anyone, and when my music stops, I enjoy the silence. I am, however, going to turn on a hall light before I turn off the office lights: I don't relish the idea of walking down that long hall in just the glow of the exit sign.

And at the moment, the burning question is, what shall I have for dinner??

Radical change in approach

OK, so remember Mr. Monkey Skulls? I utterly changed my decision about how to handle him--and feel much better about what I did. The shift in approach began because I couldn't figure out how to stop him at the door, give him his "you're out" letter, and then avoid a confrontation/explanation. If I were a different kind of person I might have been able to feel I didn't need to explain anything but could say, "No, you can't come in. No, I won't explain why. It's in the letter. Go away and read that." Being the kind of person I am, I was envisioning an escalating conflict and (being the chickenshit that I am about confrontation), I decided I'd let him in but I'd give him his assignments and the letter at the end of class when I returned assignments to everyone else.

So he came in, and they all began with a freewrite. After I collected the freewrites, as some other handouts were slowly going around the room, under the guise of checking to be sure they all had remembered to put their names on the freewrites (in fact two had not), I took a glance at his--and from what I saw, it seemed sincere, even lovely. That was a quick glance, mind you: when I read it, I may see the same snarky, contemptuous stuff, but the apparent tone today gave me pause. I also had Paul's voice in the back of my head, asking, "Have you already talked to him about this?" I was so pissed off I didn't want to--until today. Today, I thought, "Let me talk to him and see what happens."

So, end of class, as I was returning everyone's assignments, I told him I wanted to see him briefly after class. There were still a few students in the room, but I took him way off to the side and very quietly said, "I read your assignments, but I didn't mark them. After reading them, I seriously considered ejecting you from the class permanently." He looked surprised and asked why, so I explained about the lack of respect, the contempt, the tone inappropriate for college work--but, I said, it occurred to me that he might not know what was OK and what wasn't. So I figured I'd rather give him an opportunity to learn that than just to kick him out without that chance. He listened respectfully; he nodded in agreement; he looked serious or smiled at the appropriate moments. I then said, "You do know what I'm talking about in these assignments, right?" He said, yes, he knew. So I said that I'd give him some kind of mark for those assignments but that from now on, I expected the kind of language suitable for college. He said he would comply and left on a positive note. No confrontation, no anger, no resistance or any of the responses I had been braced for when I thought I was going to just toss him.

And now, if he does it again, I have talked to him about it and can toss him without guilt.

But somehow I don't think he will. I'm not sure what was going on, but it feels sorted out at the moment. In the past, I have had students do outrageous things and I come to find out they are bipolar, or struggling to manage medications for some psychosocial problem, or are going through withdrawal, or living in some other kind of hell that causes them to act up. He may have been testing me to see where the limits are and whether I am tough enough to make him keep to them. (Uh, yeah. "Though she be but little, she is fierce.") And he genuinely may have thought that there are no rules in college; that one can do/say whatever one wants. (I've run into that before, too.) In any event, I anticipate some resistance from him about what I require of his writing (and especially about how rigorously I grade), but I believe generally he'll stay in line now.

It was a nice end to the day and the week. Despite waking up at 4:20 a.m. and getting up at 4:40 (alarm was set for 5), I still didn't get all of the silted-up ancient assignments marked and back to my last class. Close, but there are a few lingering bits. And now, of course, I have all of this week's homework to go through. This may mean I'll be at the office on Saturday, maybe on Sunday too--or I may need to crash on Saturday (it's supposed to be chilly and rainy: perfect for Dickens, tea, and serious napping, which my body may insist upon) and do life maintenance on Sunday.... It's just going to be like this until December. The nice bit, though, is that in my 101s on Monday and Tuesday, I don't have to do any of the heavy lifting at all: they do peer review of each other's papers and I'm just on call if they have questions. I may sneak in a little marking of stuff while they do that, too. Ah, whatever. Somehow it all gets done. How does it? It's a mystery.

I can't resist

I just finished one class worth of assignments and only have one more to go. Of course, since I've been accepting assignments for about 2 weeks and have returned almost nothing, that still means enough work to do that I'll have to get up at 5 to have it ready for tomorrow's class. And I really do have to return this wodge to everyone tomorrow, not just because I said I would but because a) I got more assignments today and will get more tomorrow from my 101s, b) I am now behind on 229, and c) next week I get first actual essays, which I know I put way the hell too much time into but the insanity is about to rachet up significantly.

And let's not even mention that as yet untouched promo folder, or the fact that I now have other people's sabbatical folders that I have to review....

So, you may ask, what in the blue-eyed world am I doing blogging? My excuse of course is that I need a brain break (and indeed that is true; I can only go so long before I have to wash out the accumulated sludge), but also, honestly, I just really am enjoying blogging and, well, I just want to.

As I mentioned yesterday (I think), we had the first meeting of the conviviality committee tonight. Very sparse but enthusiastic attendance. Only one of the newbies was there, but he's great and clearly is right in the spirit (and spirits) of things. I ended up having a very interesting conversation with a colleague who I think was new last year (I lose track) and whom I have not had a chance to talk with at any length prior to tonight. Overall, among us all, lots of telling of "war stories" and assignment strategies and classroom discussions. We always get into the "what do you have them read" conversations, and those are always fascinating, as we hear about stories/essays/articles/books we don't know. (Not like my "jeez, I'd love to read that someday" list isn't already insanely long--and that's just talking about the books I already own.)

It's also very affirming to know that we are all on the same wavelength when it comes to what education is, especially as in, it's not a business and it's not a service. The corporate and retail models do not apply, much as many administrators would like them to. I liked what Randall said about how it used to be that the professor was a gauge against which students would measure themselves and their work to see where they stood: we were valued for having a store of knowledge and experience that students were striving to match. Now we get the "I ordered a B+, not a C-; take this back and give me what I paid for" attitude. (It always strikes me as peculiar when at semester's end a student tells me that a grade is "unacceptable." Um, ok. Don't accept it and see what ends up on your transcript.) And in our culture at this point, professors are absolutely, categorically not what our students want to emulate. I think for many students, their worst nightmare would be to discover they had become like us (musty, stodgy, hung-up weirdos that we are).

At some point I want to try to remember and blog about the stuff we were delighting over because it completely blows our students' minds, pries the backs of their heads off and scrambles their brains. Another time. We also got into a conversation about assessment, about which I have many apparently contradictory thoughts. But if I open that can of worms right now, there will be worms running amok for ages, and I really do have to turn my mind back to squeezing out just a few more assignments tonight. I'm not sure how well I can actually see (even with my reading glasses, which I tend to forget about; I'm still not used to the idea that I actually need glasses for some things), and I'm really not sure how well I can process, but even if my evaluations are dodgy, done is beautiful. (Quotation from a guy who helped me with props one time when I thought maybe I could have a career in theater as a props mistress, since acting and stage managing were washouts.) I can't think too much about the fact that once I get all this done, I just am facing more of the same: I have to be willing to celebrate getting this batch out from under my feet. By 4:00 tomorrow, it'll all be over but the shouting (metaphorically speaking of course. At least I hope it's metaphoric. I see the asshole student I posted about on Monday at 4 tomorrow... We'll see how that goes.)

I needed that

I got up early, got to the office early, and still managed to accomplish significantly less than I wanted/needed to. I worked at the office yesterday (the "holiday") to similar end. On the up side, I was ready for today's class and am ready for tomorrow's, but Thursday? Still in trouble. Still not enough hours left that aren't already dedicated to something else. I didn't go to my writers' group tonight: was at the office until 7 (when I would have had to be in Manhattan), and was by that time seriously hitting the wall. But then--happy sigh--I corrupted Paul and persuaded him to go out for steak with me. Ruth's Chris Steak House, huge, guilt-producing slab of meat (guilt on many levels, not least of which my conflicted feelings about eating meat at all, especially the feed-lot, corn-fed variety): I managed to shove down the guilt and enjoy the steak, along with the side dishes and the nearly requisite scotch that went with it. And I felt all sorts of stress knots untie as Paul and I did our usual mix of talking about students, scholarship, lives, relationships, whatever. And laughing, of course. Rather a lot. I reiterate: I am blessed that my among my colleagues are such terrific friends.

And then I got home and have been revising and re-revising an e-mail to an old friend with whom I have recently re-established communication, and now it's almost 11:30, and I wanted to get up at 6 but I'm not sure I'll be able to make myself do that. Not sure what I'll do to create out of nothing the time I need to get those fucking assignments ready to return on Thursday, but I'm getting myself into the kind of situation I warn my students about: once one gets too far behind, catching up becomes more and more impossible. So they have to be back on Thursday, no matter how utterly wrung out that leaves me by the end of that day.

And now I really must just stop, dammit, and go to bed. This may be my shortest post yet. Probably a relief to you dear and generous souls who actually read this bilge.