For me, who also labored, yesterday was a day of professional development. Today, though, I must commit myself to pacing the semester. There's a lot on the plate and if I don't get my syllabi totally solid, I will suffer throughout the next 15 weeks. The syllabi becomes the play-by-play that rules my life and, with several conferences in varying locations this Fall, I need to be organized.
My poet friend, Carol Ann, who writes poetry prolifically, said that the week before a new semester begins she turns to writing narratively.
I just write what's on my mind and that distracts me from poetry, but helps for me to clear the head for the labor that's about to come. It helps me to plan.And so that is what today's post is about. I am breathing, heavily, with the community of teachers, K - doctoral programs, that need to chisel time to plan. With high school teaching, it was usually six-week unit by six-week unit. There was not a day to day, solidified goal like there is in higher education. In higher education I have less time to be flexible. I need t's crossed and i's dotted. Not surprisingly, it takes a lot of concentration and, I admit it, Big Brother messed me up last night. I had grande plans for my night, but Amanda has me hating humanity. I couldn't concentrate on my career any more and I used her for an excuse. I needed to go for a walk, but already had. I also already ran. So, I sat in my chair and stewed. I didn't accomplish my evening goals. I am behind.
If this year is like every other year I've taught, then Labor Day weekend will be spent laboring; this, of course, will come without the gratification Meggie and her fiancee are experiencing right now. I hope that lil' Greyson never has to meet an individual like Amanda. She plagues my brain because I can't imagine anyone so bullish can really exist. Scratch that. Evil is everywhere.
Note: In rereading this, the guilt set in. Carol Ann is right. Now I know I have to work.
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