Whenever I miss a class as a teacher, some things go wrong. When I miss a class this close to the end of the semester, my students look positively betrayed. I maintain a pretty well-oiled web presence simultaneously with every class, and I left probably a thousand words of instructions, but to no avail. My students still came in today in a state of confusion. I suppose they’ll recover and make it happen on these portfolios–they’ve only got eight days to do so.
Micah has been great the last couple days. Devoid of the steroid and developing a sense of other people that comes when one is one one’s way out of the terrible twos, Micah is being helpful, considerate, and sometimes even polite. (He gets that last bit from his mother.) It’s a pity that I couldn’t have enjoyed that Micah over Thanksgiving break, but I figure I’ll have two weeks with him come Christmas, and the summer of 08 should be wonderful, comps and terrible twos out of the way.
Now I’ve got to hunker down for two weeks and pound out thirty more graded papers, eighty graded portfolios, and about twenty pages of my own prose for a final written project in religion class. About this time every semester this blog becomes a checklist of things that I’ve done and not done, and this semester shouldn’t be an exception. It keeps me sane, ultimately, to keep my eye on that sort of progress. If I didn’t, I’d likely give up entirely.