Last year, on August 24—two days into the new semester, mind you—I began a countdown for the end of that same semester. I don’t remember what precipitated my change in attitude, from eager to reluctant, but I do remember that the fall semester was difficult to get through (and that was before all of the political hubbub). The spring semester, which started the following January, dawned a little better, and to be quite honest, I felt a rush of enthusiasm sometime in mid-March that I was actually making a difference and changing some lives, simply by putting 100% of my effort into teaching about the body systems.
I’d hoped to lasso that same feeling as we wound our way into classes this fall, which start on Monday. But because of some career-related events that have transpired as of late (which shall, as of right now, remain unnamed), in addition to three days of mandatory all-day meetings (you read that right), I’m now going into this semester with a far more negative attitude than I had last fall.
But I have a new front door that needs to be financed, implying that this semester, too, is simply a means to an end. Or maybe it’s the means to the end. Stay tuned.