POST IN WHICH I SHOUT AT THE READER IN ALL-CAPS
The semester is finally over. I've collected all of the last assignments, and now I must grade them. This is what my weekend will look like:
|Portfolios, Final Papers, Accepted Late Work|
I suppose it's not so bad. I mean, at least I can't accept anything else at this point. I'VE LEFT THE OFFICE. I'M NOT GOING BACK UNTIL AFTER THE NEW YEAR.
I'm so tired!
But yesterday was actually kind of fun, in that I was able to say goodbye to a couple of students who I'm particularly fond of, and wish them well. One had the spectacular news that he's being scouted by Villanova FOR AN ACADEMIC SCHOLARSHIP (Who knew they scouted for academics? I didn't. But knowing it now makes me feel better about the world, somehow.)
And I received a lovely thank you card from a student for whom I wrote a letter of recommendation back in November, and a couple of students said in a non-ass-kissy way that they enjoyed their class. Another student hand-wrote a little note thanking me for accepting late work, and caring about his grade in the course. I'm sharing this stuff not to brag, but to record -- so I can remember, in the months after this when my brain begins to melt from postpartum hormones and general craziness, and in the months when I return to teaching and feel depressed and generally overwhelmed -- that while teaching at a community college can be really frustrating sometimes, because you often teach students who are unprepared, and unmotivated, and unwilling to do real, rigorous, intellectual work (and worse yet -- unwilling to do work period, let alone intellectual work), there are semesters like this one, where you realize that there are a handful of students out there who care, who were paying attention, who were actually learning, who appreciated what you taught them, and who came away from their experience in your class with a greater appreciation for writing, or literature, or ideas, or maybe (maybe!) all three.
Damn. That was a long sentence. Did I mention that I teach writing?
Today A.P. and I shall celebrate the end of the semester with a poetry exchange & conversation at the diner, and then I'll head to the stores to do some last minute gift shopping while the kids are still in school. I weighed the two evils of this weekend against one another, "shopping with the kids on the last Saturday before Christmas" v.s. "attempting to grade with the kids running around the house two days before final grades are due," and the latter seemed the lesser of two evils. So I'm going to use my last few precious hours of alone time for securing last-minute gifts, and tomorrow I shall play referee to the kids' bickering and squalling as we all stay home-bound, and I attempt to grade approximately 70 student papers, 25 final portfolios, and a smattering of accepted late assignments.
|Mr. He's-So-Bad-He's-Lucky-He's-Cute. And The Boy's Right Foot.|
So that's where I'll leave you for now -- I'll stop shouting at my blog readers in all caps, and concentrate my efforts on yelling at Sir New Guy, WHO KEEPS JUMPING UP ON KITCHEN COUNTERS AND EATING WHAT HE FINDS, LIKE THE BISCUITS I MADE LAST NIGHT.