i-confess. I am addicted to Facebook. At 1:00 a.m., unable to sleep, I turn on the computer--not a good idea in the realm of insomnia--and feed (devour) my news feed. It's gotten so that anything other than political dialogue holds zero appeal. I know this isn't a good thing, and yet...I'm at the mercy of my untamed mind. I've begun to call my FB friends, Comrade. But enough of that.
Lots going on in my teaching life. As the semester draws to a close, I'm filled with anxiety. Final grades for two schools--nabbing students missing work, questioning legitimacy (i.e. plagiarism) of last minute papers, upholding academic rigor and standards, while getting it all done so that I can get it all done and breathe.
In that realm, I took some bold steps. I cut back for the spring from three schools to one. I put all my proverbial eggs in one basket and hope for the best. I chose to stay with the school whose agenda is most organic to me. That means essays, essays and more essays. They are the most gratifying to teach and tap my strength. Strength is a good thing when facing down upwards of 50 freshman. If you've never done it, trust me on this. (on right, favorite diner at the now-former school).
But with that comes sadness, looking over my shoulder, questioning. For I'm leaving a school (for now) where I've had my longest tenure and have a group of colleagues turned friends. Will we still see each other? We've managed to do so after hours for the past few years...I hope we make the effort. At my school where I'll be teaching, it's a come and go world with an enormous student body and even more enormous staff. (on left, futuristic view, with all students gone for break).
On the upside, I have time to look for other work, to get back to writing, to pursue my newfound interest in fundraising, to use my letter-writing skills for more than sending Letters to Editors that don't get published (at least not most of them).
Ah...sleep. Tomorrow (or is today?) we're watching The Joy Luck Club at 8:30 a.m. in school #3. The movie rattles me; its emotional manipulation in the realm of mother/daughter relationships, wipes me out. Sometimes there is nothing like a good cry. These days and times seem to call for it.