A Teacher's Weekend
There are days when I just want to be a normal human being. I quickly remember that I don't know what that means.
It might possibly involve anticipating the arrival of the anniversity of my birth on Tuesday, but since it will be my 59th one of those, it's hard for me to get excited about it.
But it's not happening. At least next weekend is a 4-day weekend, one of the minor benefits of working at a theoretically religious (Presbyterian) college. We shall try to savor it.
I'm swamped. Hell, I'm way beyond that. I'm drowned. Drowned in a sea of those hats of which most teachers wear all too many.
Huge, huge, huge thing is almost done. March against Modern Day Slavery is almost over. [Save effort. Cut and paste.]
I attended the New Jersey ALANA Conference today [yesterday...ed.]. Notes were taken. When I get time and my eyes are better, my impressions of the events of the past month will be turned into a diary series about human trafficking. I know I promised that a long time ago, but stuff happens. Slavery happens, too.
The eye thing. Oh, yeah. Presently at the periphery of my every action and interaction. Vision consumes. More properly, lack of vision consumes. I finally have a physical exam scheduled, with Dr. Not-my-doctor for Friday. I can't tell you how stressful this can be for this transperson. But I will be able to have surgery on April 16, presuming that I pass the physical and am not in fact at Death's Door, to determine if I will return to the land of the sighted, remain here in limbo, or go blind. I'm assured that the first outcome is most likely. That's what the eye surgeon who fucked up my other eye also told me.
Oh, God. I have to actually write an analysis of the assessment of the Division of Accounting, Business, Computer Information Systems, Economics, and Supply Chain Management. Middle States midterm review. I'm thinking I'll do it tomorrow. Manana. It's been going to be done tomorrow for a month or so now. I'm running out of tomorrows.
Gees, and there are the Gay/Non-Gay Alliance's spring Pride Week festivities...second week of April. Guess who is in charge of those? Moi. Fortunately, I'm not the only person to let this flop around on the ground, so it's not totally my fault. It's fortunate also that a staff person with a bouyant personality and positive work ethic has stepped forward to take up the slack.
Oh, yeah. Did I mention I was a teacher? I have nearly 30 two-page newsletters to read for content. That is, they have been mostly graded for technical skill and the actual writing is now to be graded. I become the Writing Professor at this point every semester. I love the General Education concept. I'm not particular enamored of the way it is implemented. Especially when I have to grade writing. Especially when some of the students in the Computer Literacy classes are still being remediated.
Fortunately(?), most of the students in Visual Basic are stuck on their current programming assignment (using a for/next loop to obtain the scores from the ice-skating judges, number of which is variable, and compute and display the total, average, and number of judges...oh, and control the scores to be integers from 0 to 10), so I can probably procrastinate grading the programs that have been submitted.
The scary thing lurking in the very darkest recesses is that there are probably things I have forgotten I agreed to do. They'll make themselves apparent, I'm sure. Damn...just writing that reminds me that the Technology Think Tank meets Monday to discuss the implementation of our new collaboration between Creative Arts and Technology, Computer Information Systems, and Internetworking Technology, the excelerated program in e-Commerce. Who is it who has mistaken me for someone who has any skills whatsoever in administration?
Gees, Louise. Now I remember. I have until Monday to select which faculty governance committees/positions I shall accept the nomination to be on. I have that sheet somewhere. I have been nominated for Faculty Council (We are all members of the congress here. Council would be like our Senate), Faculty Welfare, Faculty Secretary (not until my eye thing is resolved, if ever again. Why does someone think I deserve this punishment?), and the Board of Trustees Committee on Academic Affairs (again, who thinks I have these the skills necessary for this?).
Shitty weekend. I can tell. Then I remember that they are all like this.
I don't ever want to hear someone belittling teachers about how little they work. Not ever again.
What seems to be missing in all this is a personal life.
--Robyn Elaine Serven --Bloomfield College, NJ |