My dear spouse had to arise early this morning, summoned for jury duty. He's been called numerous times (as have I), but always before, he wasn't needed and didn't have to serve. Today it appears that he will be staying there awhile. I suspect that, like me, he halfway wanted to serve so that he could understand what it was like. How can we write murder mystery novels together if we have no clue about the judicial process? If indeed he does have to serve, I hope whatever case comes before him is at least interesting.
Of course, we do have Number One Son in his last semester of law school. I dreamed last night that he was throwing a celebration of finishing by blasting into the air (cannon-style) tons of confetti made from his law-school notes. Then I somehow discovered (dream logic being what it is) that he had three DUI's! I was furious and horrified, telling him he was jeopardizing a career as a lawyer by driving drunk, but even worse, he was risking his own and others' lives! What's funny is that he isn't much of a drinker.
To return to the topic of driving to work (see previous post), I did indeed drive in yesterday, with no problems even though there were obvious ice patches on the road. I left early in case of delays, but all was well. However, in class, I have a student who is totally deaf in one ear and has about 50 percent hearing in the other--and her hearing aid battery had died. Normally I have notes up on FerrisConnect, but I'd decided to simply refer to the textbook that day. Bad choice. And of course, to add to the problem, it's a classroom with a white board, and the only white-board marker in the room had died and even been flattened to the point of no return. I had to roam the halls looking for another marker. Even with writing a lot on the board, I found myself positioned right in front of her and speaking more loudly and more precisely than usual so she could follow along. As a result, I ran out of voice with about 30 minutes left of class, so I dismissed them.
Then in the night class (where only 7 or 8 people showed up), I was already a bit hoarse, so I dismissed them early, too. As soon as I reached home, I made myself a cup of hot peppermint tea. Blessed relief!
But now I have even more work to do because I have to put up fuller notes on FerrisConnect. That's okay. Once I write them, they will serve me for more than one semester, with amendments and additions. (Gone are the days of professors lecturing from yellowed notes. Now we have old notes that always look great, thanks to the computer enhancement!)
This semester I have some truly fascinating students. I always do. It surprises me when other faculty complain about their students because I love mine so much. Yes, it would be lovely if they already knew what I had to teach them (which seems to be the main complaint I've heard over the last 20 years), but if that were the case, what would they need me for? Why do faculty bitch and moan about their unprepared students? Why don't they see that every generation of teachers makes the same complaint? I have total confidence that people who have taught me have at times complained that I was not prepared for the level of work. (Certainly in several of my doctoral-level classes, I know I was not prepared well enough.) But to me, what I enjoy is the challenge of getting students excited about writing.
I love to write. I sit down to write this blog and the words start to pour out. Sometimes they don't make sense to anyone but me, but then, I'm the one I'm writing for. I want to make sense of my world, and writing about it can help me do that. And it's a place where I can think about teaching and students and what it is that I'm doing. Stuck in my little cubicle as I am at work, I don't get to talk about teaching the way I used to talk with Mike. Hey, Mike, I really miss those long conversations over lunches at the Heidelberg. Before I started the doctorate, I had long lunches with Ellie at Snooky's, and Ellie, I miss those, too. Two people whose minds are enough like mine that we can talk and talk and talk about whatever concerns us--and here I am in Michigan, at one end of the country, while Ellie is in Georgia and Mike is in Texas. Thank goodness for email. But--face it--it is not the same. I miss my friends. On that sad and self-pitying note, I'll close. Dr. S.
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