Done #1

Completely done with the Short Story class, except for entering the grades in Banner, which I'll do on Thursday. I'm available for students to drop by tomorrow--not that I'd change a grade because of a student complaint about it, but if someone shows up and demonstrates that I left something out (which happened with students today) or that my math was in error (I did catch one howling mistake in the short story class), I want to have the opportunity to make the change before it's up on the computer.

I did get everything marked before today's class, with plenty of time to spare, so I also spent time working on adjunct schedules. Of course, I am second guessing every choice I'm making, as I'm doing it solo for the first time, but worst case scenario, Bruce will fix what I've done--or he and I will fix it together. He actually is comfortable with doing a lot of the work on his own before we embark on it together; as he explained it, it gives him something to do. (And I'm thinking, Christ, on a break, you need work-work to give you something to do? I can always think of a zillion more things than I can possibly find time for, no matter how long the break.) In any event, I'm glad I'm getting a good start on it, just to give him that leg up, and I hope I find good opportunities to chip away at it a little more over the next few days.

Class today was the usual chaos. I didn't even try to rein a lot of it in. The Gang of Four were talking about schedules and whether any of them could take Nature in Lit, joining BYM, who is in the class and as nervous as I am about whether it will run. There was a lot of cross-the-room conversation, having nothing whatever to do with the class. I didn't talk to them about the ideas I have about reconfiguring journals, but they did have some suggestions about how I might rework the final paper project, so they have a chance to write more than just what is required for the proposal and get revision feedback from me before turning in the done deal.

Based on their feedback, I may reconfigure the proposal so that it is an in-progress draft--but the problem is, anything I don't point out as a problem still tends to slip past the students, so whatever they'd complete on their own would still evidence the problems I'm seeing in final papers. By the end of semester, they are better able to fix what I point out, but they still can't see their work objectively. Part of what I'm trying to teach them is how to see their own problems clearly, but I know I can't do that fully (or even very significantly) in one semester. It takes lots and lots of practice, lots and lots of feedback, and by the end of the term, we simply run out of time. I have colleagues who have made an earlier assignment into the big one that requires research--which would give students time to dig into revision and which would alleviate pressure on the end of the term, but on the other hand, I don't think it's fair to ask them to do an "all the marbles" assignment half-way through the game.

Well, it's something else to mull over.

One of my favorite comments from the students today was from a woman who said she has learned more respect for English as a subject. She used to feel she could write a paper and it would be fine; now she's starting to understand the kind of intellectual commitment it takes to really do well in English. And she also said that, even though the class rocked her back on her heels quite a bit, she still loves the subject. (Contrast the student I had several semesters ago who said that, thanks to me, she now hates English.) The same woman who said she now respected the discipline also said she gained confidence this semester. Ah, that's lovely to hear.

But despite (or maybe because of?) the positive feedback I'm getting, I find that I'm going through a strange emotional reaction to the impending end of the semester. I'm not quite sure how to identify it. Parts of it are certainly a kind of narcotic withdrawal/post-partum feeling, parts stem from that faint whiff of worry that I'm not more frantic and harried (surely I must be dropping the ball somewhere?), parts are I don't know what. I can tell I'm emotionally unbalanced because my sleep and eating habits are all gone wonky, because I'm fighting with myself about doing what I know will make me feel virtuous and healthy and in control, rather than indulging in behaviors that will make me dislike myself in the morning. I was joking with Paul about it, saying the choice is between eating my brought-from-home soup for dinner and going to dance class--or buying several pounds of chocolate and heading home to lie on the sofa and stuff my face while I read something trashy and useless (or watch back-to-back-to-back episodes of TV fluff on DVD). Clearly other options exist, but I wouldn't be feeling the pull toward hedonistic vices if I weren't trying to do an end run around some emotional foo-raw. Perhaps I need to join a Workaholics Anonymous group? I'm sure there's a way to 12-step my way out of whatever it is I'm in. But this mild disturbance as I face, as the semester draws to a close, makes me realize, again, still, that I truly do love this career. I love teaching. I love the impact I can make on students' lives. And I do go through a kind of empty nest syndrome when they fly off to their next semester and leave me--until it's time for me to greet the next batch of hatchlings.

But this semester isn't finished yet. Each day seems to be taking forever (in part because I'm not running around like my hair is on fire), but each day does pass, and the work of the day gets done, and I am then that much closer to the real letting go.