I survived my first teaching semester, y'all. Barely did it, but I'm here, alive and still kicking. Just not as hard. In the days since my last class's final on Wednesday I was a hot mess trying to finish all the projects up for the courses I was taking and make appearances at all the English department holiday brouhaha I felt compelled to attend. I burned my apple crisp for the potluck, drank too much at the creative writing holiday party, and had a panic attack in the wee hours of Friday morning. Don't worry, though; I went to the doctor on campus, who referred me to a psychiatrist, and now I'm properly medicated for depression and anxiety. Like every other person in America. But I feel a lot calmer now, probably because the semester is over, and I like feeling calm.
I took the weekend really easy, only venturing out on Friday to have dinner with Eric, then a trip to the dog park for an hour on Saturday and a movie last night. Eric and I saw Milk, which I thought was phenomenally done, but I think he was a bit perturbed by the gratuitous man-on-man smooching. It's an important film, I think, because it shows the history of the gay community's fight for rights in this country, and this is an important history for gay people (and everyone else) to know about. Because chances are they don't.
I'm plowing through Twilight, and though Edward Cullen makes me tingle in all the right places, I think the book would be much better if it had been more scrupulously edited. Honestly, I'm tired of the first person narrator constantly describing her vampire-lover as "breathtakingly beautiful," "godlike," and "perfectly statuesque." Too cliche, Stephanie Meyer. Let's liven the language up, even if you are writing about the living dead.
I'm busy this week saying goodbye to friends for the few weeks of Xmas break (and I'm especially sad to see at least one of them go), gearing up for the Young Writers' Institute (which I'm co-chairing this year--Steph, Monda, I'm making you proud!), and working on the syllabus for the English 102 course I designed and will be teaching next semester: Inquiry into Friendship. I also need to clean my apartment, finish my Xmas shopping, wrap presents, and pack. Headed home for the holidays on Saturday the 20th.
I'm looking forward to being home for 10 days or so more than I thought I would. I'm going to use the time to write a poem a day, watch lots of HGTV, and avoid interacting with people for a while (except, of course, for the ones I can't live without: Mom, Dad, Eric, Virignia). I'm not mad at anyone, mind you. I love you all. I just had a tiring semester jumping through social hoops and directing the department's party life. I love the job, but I need a break, some time to be a basket case on my own terms.
And I don't intend on shaving at all over the the winter break.
So, things are looking up for me. I have plans. I have friends. I have dreams. I just thank God this semester's over.
Next post: "10 Things I Learned About What NOT To Do In The Composition Classroom."
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3 comments:
You survived! YAY!!
Uh, I may have relationship issues because what some people see as romantic behavior from Edward Cullen, I see as controlling and a little stalkerish. I didn't like him until the final book. Don't hate me...
The first year teaching, whatever level, is the worst. Next semester will be a bit easier, and it will get easier after that (but never really, easy-- especially if you, like me, are a bit OCD in continually trying to create the perfect class).
Congratulations on surviving. I hope that milestone means that you will have time to post more! (I realize that I am hardly one to talk...) I always enjoy your blog.
Ta-DA, Mister Sisk, and enjoy your down time! Tehre's nothing quite like the hour or two after your final grades are posted. Heaven.
The Young Writers' Institute sounds fab - you must let us know everything about it. With those horrible Twilight books out, I'm sure you'll see a truckload of vampire poems/stories. That's okay, though. It beats the hell out of truckloads of Lord of the Rings knock-offs.
Go home, eat casseroles, write poems. I can't wait to hear your list of ten.
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