Settling In and Setting Out

Today is my first official day in Paraguay. Yesterday, I decided, really doesn't count, because I was too exhausted to communicate in anything longer than a facebook post (so apologies if you also are my facebook friend, because some of this is gonna be review). It's early days yet, but so far I'm feeling pretty good about the whole thing.

Back and Badder than Ever - Now with More Aristotle!

My Boy Aristotle

It's been a crazy few weeks. I'm apparently now a Master of Art, which is nice. I haven't found a job, which is less nice. I have gotten plenty of sleep, spent time with some truly awesome people I hadn't seen a lot of lately, and gotten all caught up on Doctor Who. I may have mentioned, though, still no job. It's scary. No, scratch that. It's terrifying. In the meantime, I am falling back on something that never (well almost never) makes me feel incompetent and useless, the thing I have studied for most of the last two years, and the thing I will study some more should I get up the guts to go for a PhD at some point: rhetoric. So today I think I'll talk about my buddy Aristotle.

No, wait, where are you going? Come back here and sit down. 

Writer's Block...Sort Of

Avoidance FTL

I have writer's block. Sort of. I know for an absolute fact that if I were to give in to temptation and open up any one of the fiction pieces I'm working on, I would be kicking ass and chewing bubblegum in no time. It would feel great. I know this, just like I know that if I were to open up a blank Word doc and try to write an academic paper on, for instance, emotional rhetoric in political campaigns, I would sit staring blankly at the screen, wander off and have a smoke, call my friend and chat about random crap, pour myself a drink, drink it, consider making bread, and finally sit down and bang out a whiny, self-absorbed blog about how hard grad school is that I would then realize is crap and subsequently delete.

Three guesses why I know this.

An Infinite Loop of Revision...

I have three major academic projects to write and untold stacks of papers to grade, and instead of doing any of that I'm stuck on this infinite loop of revision ideas on this book-length fiction thing I'm working on. I think the internet acronym I want is FML. I have got to get focused, so I'm calling on you for help. Do me a solid and click through?

Why I Love/Hate Teaching

I love teaching. I love spending an hour of my day in a room full of undergrads, talking about sea cucumbers, the difference between satyrs and Seder, what double rainbows might mean, and occasionally English Composition, which is ostensibly the subject I teach. I love having students come into my office and ask me for advice on everything from their writing skills to their ability to talk to the ladies. I love watching their writing improve, comparing their rough drafts to their final copies and seeing my influence lurking there. Mostly, I love walking into a room full of strangers and watching them become "my class."

Which is also why I hate teaching. I hate teaching because at the end of the day (or semester, for precision), I have to evaluate these kids who I have grown fond of, and attach a number to their name that equals either success or failure. I have to not think about Student A as the sweet kid who chose me as the person they wanted to come out to for the first time ever, and start thinking of Student A as the student who didn't submit half of Portfolio Four and therefore cannot get an A. I have to stop thinking about Student B as a personable guy who is facing serious financial issues and doing his best to get fit homework in between two jobs and a family, and start thinking about Student B as the student who, in spite of numerous verbal agreements and extensions, never did get caught up and therefore cannot pass.

Throughout the semester, I am amused by that one kid who shows up every day and never turns in anything. I share stories (with names redacted for privacy) about the student who wrote 120 words for an assignment calling for 1000 and was astonished at the resulting grade, or who emailed me last week to ask if it was too late to hand in a paper that was due in September and by the way what is that paper supposed to be about? But today, as I tally grades, it's a lot harder to laugh. Every semester, the Sunday before grades are due makes me even more stressed than my own finals, because it always comes as a big damn shock that some of "my class" is going to fail. The fact that I know I can't make students write papers, that I gave them every chance to get their work in, that in all honest fact they are the masters of their grade, that doesn't make any difference today. All semester, I got to teach people. And I loved it. Today I have to fail people. And I hate it.