Well, the theory is that I've internetically caught the cold that Dr. Crazy received telephonically from her mother. Or that one of my many sick students has slipped me some of his or her germs. Or that my allergies are just especially bad today (too much goddamn lawn-mowing around here!), compounded by the fact that I've been getting up too early. Seriously. Way too early.
Luckily the teaching today was light. We did peer-workshopping in both sections of comp, which meant that I didn't have to perform. (Of course, I do need to read and comment on 32 papers by Friday, so I'm paying for my comfort.) In the survey we wrapped up SGGK. I love teaching my survey; I really do. My energy level always seems to be at its best in that class.
Anyway, I came home after class, changed into pajama pants--one thing graduate school taught me was to spend as little time as possible in things like bras, belts, and socks--and took an allergy pill just to see whether that would do anything. It's too soon to tell, but I'm hoping that some sleep tonight will clear things up. It has to! I fly to the Metropole on Friday evening.
In other news, one of the things about this small college in this small town is that I essentially have to be a Professor at all times (unless I'm ensconced in my apartment. With the blinds shut. And even then, there's a student in the apartment underneath mine--not one of my students, luckily). The students, they are everywhere.
Zum beispiel:
-I have been swimming three times in the last week, and ran into students on two occasions: I am therefore buying a new swim suit. The old one is a disgrace and it's bad enough that my students are seeing me almost-naked without my worrying about the weak elastic causing me to flash them at every flip-turn.
-I attended a yoga class last night, and the teacher is the mother of one of my students.
It's crazy! I don't really mind all this, but it is taking some adjusting, and I'm not used to paying so much attention to my dress and appearance. On Saturday, for example, I ran into one of my students on my way home from the liquor store; luckily the six-pack and bottle of wine were safely concealed in a canvas bag, but that didn't stop my bra strap from exposing itself.
Yeah. So that's Field Town, and me in it.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Monday, September 10, 2007
Memity meme
Hilaire has tagged me for the quadromeme--so here goes!
4 first names of crushes:
1. Andy (I was 5. I have no real memory of this, but my mom swears I was in love with him.)
2. Jesse (First big post-attainment-of-the-age-of-reason crush! And oh! The pining!)
3. Mike (Early high school. We finally went out, in a rather chaste and embarrassed way, for a couple of weeks. Then I saw him in shorts and his hairy legs freaked me out.)
4. Ryan (I never actually talked to him. I think I knew all along that if I talked to him, the illusion of his coolness would be utterly destroyed.)
4 Pieces of Clothing I wish I still owned (and/or that still fit):
1. The jeans that wore out last year. They were really comfortable and I currently lack truly comfortable jeans.
2. A one-piece polyurethane number comprising ultra-short shorts, a big belt, a flashy sleeveless upper bit and a zipper that goes all the way down. It's shiny and blue and insane. I still have it, actually, only the zipper broke one time when I was trying it on, alone, in my room (I swear!). I only wore it once and never even got the chance to take off my coat--that's a long and embarrassing story....
3. A flannel shirt that I bought sometime between college and grad school and donated in a misguided fit of professionalizing my wardrobe. It was soft and I liked the colors.
4. A pair of combat boots that a girl in my high school history class gave me for some reason. They were brutally uncomfortable but super cool--the big steel-toed kind that laced almost up to my knees. I wore them with cut-off jeans and a Pixies tee-shirt and was bad.ass.
4 names I've been called at one time or another:
1. Binky. This was in the seventh grade. It irritated me to no end, and my friends never told me where it came from.
2. Fingo
3. Ja
4. Bean Brains (thanks, Mom)
4 professions I secretly want to try:
1. Ornithologist
2. Engineer
3. Bookbinder
4. Novelist (like, a real novelist)
4 musicians I'd most want to go on a date with:
1. Uh, Morrissey? Like you even need to ask.
2. David Byrne
3. David Bowie (I love me my David B's)
4. the woman from El Perro del Mar--she seems odd enough to warrant an evening out
4 foods I'd rather throw than eat:
(This is a difficult category. I'll try to keep it vegetarian, since to do otherwise would be a cop-out.)
1. peas (I like peas OK, but they seem like they'd be fun to throw--you could chuck a really good handful all at once, and they would just go everywhere, wouldn't they?)
2. durian!--although it would be a little dangerous. (Remind me to tell you sometime about durian, the fruit that offends all five senses!)
3. licorice
4. figs, maybe? I don't know. I guess I like most foods.
4 things I like to sniff:
1. late roses
2. really ripe grapes on the vine
3. beech trees (or whatever those trees are with the peeling bark that smell like autumn all year long)
4. church air
4 people I tag:
1. sisyphus
2. fretful porpentine
3. tiruncula
4. you!
4 first names of crushes:
1. Andy (I was 5. I have no real memory of this, but my mom swears I was in love with him.)
2. Jesse (First big post-attainment-of-the-age-of-reason crush! And oh! The pining!)
3. Mike (Early high school. We finally went out, in a rather chaste and embarrassed way, for a couple of weeks. Then I saw him in shorts and his hairy legs freaked me out.)
4. Ryan (I never actually talked to him. I think I knew all along that if I talked to him, the illusion of his coolness would be utterly destroyed.)
4 Pieces of Clothing I wish I still owned (and/or that still fit):
1. The jeans that wore out last year. They were really comfortable and I currently lack truly comfortable jeans.
2. A one-piece polyurethane number comprising ultra-short shorts, a big belt, a flashy sleeveless upper bit and a zipper that goes all the way down. It's shiny and blue and insane. I still have it, actually, only the zipper broke one time when I was trying it on, alone, in my room (I swear!). I only wore it once and never even got the chance to take off my coat--that's a long and embarrassing story....
3. A flannel shirt that I bought sometime between college and grad school and donated in a misguided fit of professionalizing my wardrobe. It was soft and I liked the colors.
4. A pair of combat boots that a girl in my high school history class gave me for some reason. They were brutally uncomfortable but super cool--the big steel-toed kind that laced almost up to my knees. I wore them with cut-off jeans and a Pixies tee-shirt and was bad.ass.
4 names I've been called at one time or another:
1. Binky. This was in the seventh grade. It irritated me to no end, and my friends never told me where it came from.
2. Fingo
3. Ja
4. Bean Brains (thanks, Mom)
4 professions I secretly want to try:
1. Ornithologist
2. Engineer
3. Bookbinder
4. Novelist (like, a real novelist)
4 musicians I'd most want to go on a date with:
1. Uh, Morrissey? Like you even need to ask.
2. David Byrne
3. David Bowie (I love me my David B's)
4. the woman from El Perro del Mar--she seems odd enough to warrant an evening out
4 foods I'd rather throw than eat:
(This is a difficult category. I'll try to keep it vegetarian, since to do otherwise would be a cop-out.)
1. peas (I like peas OK, but they seem like they'd be fun to throw--you could chuck a really good handful all at once, and they would just go everywhere, wouldn't they?)
2. durian!--although it would be a little dangerous. (Remind me to tell you sometime about durian, the fruit that offends all five senses!)
3. licorice
4. figs, maybe? I don't know. I guess I like most foods.
4 things I like to sniff:
1. late roses
2. really ripe grapes on the vine
3. beech trees (or whatever those trees are with the peeling bark that smell like autumn all year long)
4. church air
4 people I tag:
1. sisyphus
2. fretful porpentine
3. tiruncula
4. you!
Friday, September 7, 2007
Adjusting to the Professorial Life: A Call for Posts, Of Sorts
Tonight I was thinking about how I'm settling into this new full-time teaching thing (we've just finished up Week 3). It's been a real series of highs and lows--a pretty regular cycle of them, in fact. One day things are great, and I love love love teaching; the next, it just, well, isn't, and I'm not sure that I do. At those points I question how I'm ever going to get used to this lifestyle, and how on earth people manage to prep a huge batch of courses, accomplish any research on their own, and still eat lunch. (As it happens, my schedule is such that I do effectively miss lunch at least three days a week. That might have to change, some day.)
And then I thought: Hey! Remember when you were in the midst of job-market agony last spring? Remember how helpful it was to read about other people's experiences, and to know that you weren't the only one to ever go through this stuff?
So it occurred to me that maybe I could get some similar help now.
Thus, I ask you, blogfriends: What do you remember about your first weeks, months, semester, or year as a full-timer? How did you feel about your courses, students, self? What kind of advice would you give to someone just starting out in her first job? Or did everyone else launch into their teaching careers brimming with confidence and a series of fabulously successful lecture notes?
I actually had very little teaching experience coming into this job (four semesters as a TA and one semester adjuncting a single course), so it's entirely possible that I have more to adjust to than most people in my position. Nonetheless, I would thoroughly enjoy--and, I expect, be greatly heartened by--your own stories. So, if you're inspired, please share! (Either in the comments or on your own blogs, if you prefer.)
And then I thought: Hey! Remember when you were in the midst of job-market agony last spring? Remember how helpful it was to read about other people's experiences, and to know that you weren't the only one to ever go through this stuff?
So it occurred to me that maybe I could get some similar help now.
Thus, I ask you, blogfriends: What do you remember about your first weeks, months, semester, or year as a full-timer? How did you feel about your courses, students, self? What kind of advice would you give to someone just starting out in her first job? Or did everyone else launch into their teaching careers brimming with confidence and a series of fabulously successful lecture notes?
I actually had very little teaching experience coming into this job (four semesters as a TA and one semester adjuncting a single course), so it's entirely possible that I have more to adjust to than most people in my position. Nonetheless, I would thoroughly enjoy--and, I expect, be greatly heartened by--your own stories. So, if you're inspired, please share! (Either in the comments or on your own blogs, if you prefer.)
Thursday, September 6, 2007
Grading
That's right, I'm grading. And you know what else? This is the second batch of papers I've graded this semester. I sure do get things going early, no?
It's good, though, to get an early gauge on how I'm pitching my lectures/discussions, especially since this is a whole new batch of students and I don't quite know what to expect. So far, it seems that I'm going too fast for some and too slow for others--in other words, doing about as well as I can reasonably do.
But for some reason (crazy, I know, to be fantasizing about doing other things while grading) what I really want to do these days is go back and reread Malory's Morte. Odd, I know, since it's not the most page-turning of novels or whatever. Perhaps I'm nostalgic for my first reading of it? Although the time in my life when I read it was not an especially happy time, so I'm not sure that that explains it. I do like some bits an awful lot, but the persistence of this craving is a little puzzling. And since I can't conceivably fit it into any current or upcoming research projects, and I have plenty of other work on my plate, it doesn't look like I'm going to be able to indulge.
Anyone else have obscure reading urges? Is this a common feeling--the desire to read a very specific book, even one that's not necessarily a favorite?
It's good, though, to get an early gauge on how I'm pitching my lectures/discussions, especially since this is a whole new batch of students and I don't quite know what to expect. So far, it seems that I'm going too fast for some and too slow for others--in other words, doing about as well as I can reasonably do.
But for some reason (crazy, I know, to be fantasizing about doing other things while grading) what I really want to do these days is go back and reread Malory's Morte. Odd, I know, since it's not the most page-turning of novels or whatever. Perhaps I'm nostalgic for my first reading of it? Although the time in my life when I read it was not an especially happy time, so I'm not sure that that explains it. I do like some bits an awful lot, but the persistence of this craving is a little puzzling. And since I can't conceivably fit it into any current or upcoming research projects, and I have plenty of other work on my plate, it doesn't look like I'm going to be able to indulge.
Anyone else have obscure reading urges? Is this a common feeling--the desire to read a very specific book, even one that's not necessarily a favorite?
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
A Day in the Life of a New Professor
7:20 am. Alarm goes off. Actually, this is the third of three alarms; a whole battalion is set nightly to avoid over-sleeping.
8:00 am. Get up. Shower, coffee, etc.
9:00 am. Decide to postpone work and go to the post office to mail rent, which is four days late. Delay was caused by long weekend and an income-free summer. Luckily, however, there are now a few hundred dollars in the bank account--but not as much as anticipated, because of course income is taxed and employee must contribute to health insurance and various pension funds. Anyway, rent is now in mail, thank goodness.
9:30 am. Get home. Engage in some preliminary "organizing" activities.
10:00 am. Start working, more or less, by reviewing prep for 12:30 class.
11:00 am. Realize that no real work is being accomplished; stave off fear that there's no possible way to fill 75 minutes with the material at hand. Rummage through file cabinet and miscellaneous paper piles for twenty minutes seeking the copy of the book prospectus that had advisor's comments on it. After some panic, locate said prospectus in a file folder labeled "Cambodia."
11:20 am. Decide to eat lunch.
11:30 am. Eat lunch. While eating, read over the annotated prospectus. Consider possible revisions. Wonder in bafflement at when those revisions will get done. Concoct ambitious working program, which is then noted in day planner. Observe that all courses and course prep are absent from day planner, providing a false sense of freedom and possibility. Indulge in said sense of freedom and possibility regardless.
12:00 pm. Go to campus. Putter about office for a bit, attempting to come up with some last-minute discussion ideas for class.
12:30 pm. Teach class. It's fine. Worry was unnecessary. Notice, however, that it's quite warm in the room, and keep arms firmly clasped to sides to avoid embarrassing sweat exposure.
2:00 pm. Two hours of "office hours," during which exactly two students stop by for a total of maybe seven minutes. Use the first half-hour to install file cabinet components that require actually breaking metal against desk. Feel satisfied with own strength, and contemplate telling any passing students not to "mess with the doctor." No students pass, so witticism goes unused. Figure that that's probably for the best. Use the next half-hour or so to prep for tomorrow morning's class. Tomorrow's afternoon class is already prepared, thanks to the long weekend. Feel all self-congratulatory about this.
3:30 pm. Realize that readings for tomorrow morning's class haven't been photocopied. Interrupt own office hours to rush to photocopy center. Be reassured by cheery employee that copies will be in mail box by 9:30 am. Experience relief.
3:40 pm. Return to office. Decide to read ahead, because many many papers are about to come in over the next two weeks.
4:45 pm. Decide that it's far too late to be at the office. Go home.
4:55 pm. Perform complicated military maneuvers against the fruit flies colonizing the kitchen trash. Take out the trash.
5:00 pm. Strip down to undershirt and put on pajama pants. Reapply deodorant (it was hot, after all). Commence blogging. Contemplate drinking beer. Try to ignore the fact that the ambitious proposal-revising plan is already out of step with actual (non-) accomplishments. Mentally list things that need to be done for job market. Feel momentary panic, but stifle said panic with further beer-drinking contemplations.
Hm. Beer?
8:00 am. Get up. Shower, coffee, etc.
9:00 am. Decide to postpone work and go to the post office to mail rent, which is four days late. Delay was caused by long weekend and an income-free summer. Luckily, however, there are now a few hundred dollars in the bank account--but not as much as anticipated, because of course income is taxed and employee must contribute to health insurance and various pension funds. Anyway, rent is now in mail, thank goodness.
9:30 am. Get home. Engage in some preliminary "organizing" activities.
10:00 am. Start working, more or less, by reviewing prep for 12:30 class.
11:00 am. Realize that no real work is being accomplished; stave off fear that there's no possible way to fill 75 minutes with the material at hand. Rummage through file cabinet and miscellaneous paper piles for twenty minutes seeking the copy of the book prospectus that had advisor's comments on it. After some panic, locate said prospectus in a file folder labeled "Cambodia."
11:20 am. Decide to eat lunch.
11:30 am. Eat lunch. While eating, read over the annotated prospectus. Consider possible revisions. Wonder in bafflement at when those revisions will get done. Concoct ambitious working program, which is then noted in day planner. Observe that all courses and course prep are absent from day planner, providing a false sense of freedom and possibility. Indulge in said sense of freedom and possibility regardless.
12:00 pm. Go to campus. Putter about office for a bit, attempting to come up with some last-minute discussion ideas for class.
12:30 pm. Teach class. It's fine. Worry was unnecessary. Notice, however, that it's quite warm in the room, and keep arms firmly clasped to sides to avoid embarrassing sweat exposure.
2:00 pm. Two hours of "office hours," during which exactly two students stop by for a total of maybe seven minutes. Use the first half-hour to install file cabinet components that require actually breaking metal against desk. Feel satisfied with own strength, and contemplate telling any passing students not to "mess with the doctor." No students pass, so witticism goes unused. Figure that that's probably for the best. Use the next half-hour or so to prep for tomorrow morning's class. Tomorrow's afternoon class is already prepared, thanks to the long weekend. Feel all self-congratulatory about this.
3:30 pm. Realize that readings for tomorrow morning's class haven't been photocopied. Interrupt own office hours to rush to photocopy center. Be reassured by cheery employee that copies will be in mail box by 9:30 am. Experience relief.
3:40 pm. Return to office. Decide to read ahead, because many many papers are about to come in over the next two weeks.
4:45 pm. Decide that it's far too late to be at the office. Go home.
4:55 pm. Perform complicated military maneuvers against the fruit flies colonizing the kitchen trash. Take out the trash.
5:00 pm. Strip down to undershirt and put on pajama pants. Reapply deodorant (it was hot, after all). Commence blogging. Contemplate drinking beer. Try to ignore the fact that the ambitious proposal-revising plan is already out of step with actual (non-) accomplishments. Mentally list things that need to be done for job market. Feel momentary panic, but stifle said panic with further beer-drinking contemplations.
Hm. Beer?
??
There's a man in my yard scanning the lawn with a metal detector.
I can't imagine what he hopes to find out there. Have I unwittingly rented an apartment that rests atop a pirate's treasure?
I can't imagine what he hopes to find out there. Have I unwittingly rented an apartment that rests atop a pirate's treasure?
Monday, September 3, 2007
So! What's been going on over here?
Hm. Perhaps bullets will make me feel more efficient.
- The Boyfriend was in town from Thursday night until this afternoon. It was really wonderful to have him here; it made me realize how much farther apart we are now, and how much I miss being able to hop on down to the Metropole every two weeks (I even fleetingly missed the Bad Movie Bus). But I'll be flying out there in less than a fortnight--for a very short visit, admittedly, but I'm looking forward to it already.
- We had a good time, TB and I did, driving around in a rented car and attempting to enjoy the sights. Unfortunately nothing in the Fields is open on Sunday, it seems--a fact that we failed to take into consideration (or even anticipate) yesterday, resulting in a rather rambling cruise around a nearby town, an ice cream at the DQ, and a stop in a scruffy sports bar while we waited for a movie to start. The movie, by the way, was Superbad, which was about what you expect--and before you wonder at my cinematic choices, let me just say that I love the kid who used to play George Michael in Arrested Development, and it's totally worth it (well, maybe only a little bit worth it) to sit through the puerility of the first half-hour of the movie in order to enjoy his George-Michael-worthy anxieties later in the film. And that's all I'm going to say about that.
- We watched several other movies, too (a truly relaxing weekend!), including Apocalypto. I have some very strongly--well, "mixed" is hardly the right word for my feelings about M. Gibson. I have a problem or two with him. But one thing I will say is that he does not hold back in any way in his directorial decision. At least not in this one (I haven't seen the Jesus movie, although as a medievalist I half feel that I should): The man commits to his scenes. Good fucking god.
- I am currently about 70% prepared for class tomorrow. This is the class that could almost run itself--but my superstitious side believes that it'll only almost run itself if I spend at least two hours looking over the readings and making copious notes, with lots of things in ALL CAPS and/or heavily underlined.
- Being with TB this weekend made me think a lot about what I want for the future. Well, that's misleading. What I mean is that it confirmed what I want for the future, namely for us not to be long-distance forever, my lord, of course, and has roused in me that old impatience. A bunch of jobs appeared on the Chronicle site today--only a couple in my field, alas--but looking over them brought back the familiar feelings of eagerness and anxiety.
- It would be awfully nice to have a car, I confess.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)