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I have just read the _sixth_ rather banal poem one of my poetry students has written about her abortion. I'm tempted to send her to Anne Sexton or Gwendolyn Brooks but that would be cruel... But it is so difficult not to tell a student "you want to write about your abortion? then WRITE about it. About the pain and the shame and the guilt and the mess and the tears and the gut wrenching loss and..." instead of "my little baby bee, / I will always love you / even if we were not to be " blah blah blah.
Tomorrow our intrepid department chair has arranged that our jolly group of always cooperative department members should get together for a retreat. On a farm. With muffins. And a group photograph. This will be six or seven hours that I'll never get back. If it is successful, chair ought to get the community college equivalent of the Nobel Peace Prize, and I can't help thinking this is what she is hoping for: to Heal us and Make Us Happy Little Workers. One of the exercises we were supposed to do beforehand was a work-style quiz, not unlike the Facebook ones of "what Hogwarts house are you" or "what character in the Lord of the Rings" We are supposed to go and tell the group and think about how this affects our group interactions. I'm tempted to say "I'm a Slytherin, and I'm Saruman, and that's why I want to smite our chair about the head and try and take over the department and rule you all!!"
I have so much marking to do it isn't even funny. And it seems that every time I turn around I have to go to another meeting. Apart from this benighted retreat tomorrow, I've had or will have some other obligation that is taking up several hours of every day this week.
Bleah.
Things could be worse, I know. And I see evidence of it. I could have a flooded basement or a medical emergency to cope with. But chronic low level grumpiness can be very wearing too. Just hope for me that I don't lose my temper tomorrow.
Tomorrow our intrepid department chair has arranged that our jolly group of always cooperative department members should get together for a retreat. On a farm. With muffins. And a group photograph. This will be six or seven hours that I'll never get back. If it is successful, chair ought to get the community college equivalent of the Nobel Peace Prize, and I can't help thinking this is what she is hoping for: to Heal us and Make Us Happy Little Workers. One of the exercises we were supposed to do beforehand was a work-style quiz, not unlike the Facebook ones of "what Hogwarts house are you" or "what character in the Lord of the Rings" We are supposed to go and tell the group and think about how this affects our group interactions. I'm tempted to say "I'm a Slytherin, and I'm Saruman, and that's why I want to smite our chair about the head and try and take over the department and rule you all!!"
I have so much marking to do it isn't even funny. And it seems that every time I turn around I have to go to another meeting. Apart from this benighted retreat tomorrow, I've had or will have some other obligation that is taking up several hours of every day this week.
Bleah.
Things could be worse, I know. And I see evidence of it. I could have a flooded basement or a medical emergency to cope with. But chronic low level grumpiness can be very wearing too. Just hope for me that I don't lose my temper tomorrow.
