Every August, I print out my class lists, copy my class expectations, and throw paper into my binders. I post information online and clean out my bag. Make sure I have room keys and Scantron forms and pencils and dry erase markers. Every August, I find myself a teeny bit excited to be back in the classroom. Sometimes, that excitement carries me through the entire semester.
This year, the excitement lasted until yesterday morning at 10:07 a.m. Which, as many of you know, was the SECOND day of classes.
I can’t pinpoint why that moment my house of cards came crashing down, but considering all of my courses (five total this semester) haven’t even met for the first time yet, I’m worried. Yesterday afternoon, I actually caught myself counting down the days until December. (As an aside, do you want to know how many more “classes” I have to teach? I’ll tell you. That number stands right now at 93. Yes, I have to dispense information 93 more times before the end of the year. Yikes.)
But since I tend to dwell on the positive (or at least I try to), I’m looking at this semester as a means to an end: I have 93 more chances to gather the most effective and amusing anecdotes for future Dear Student letters.