It’s that strange night before the final week of the semester. The night where everything seems to be slowing down already, but it isn’t really. The night when you wonder how students will do on finals and juries, and realize that all the teaching and all the mentoring is now out of your hands. The night when you almost feel a post-semester depression glomming up behind you. The night when you realize that, one week from now, you’ll be home free for a while.
I said to several folks recently: “I can do this pace, if it’s for 16 weeks, then a three weeks of less hurry, then another 16 weeks, then summer.” But tonight, I’m wishing that 16 weeks might stretch on a bit, so in love with teaching am I.
Meanwhile, the office is clean. The desk is tidy. Music is put away. Another jury week beckons.