Something Up With Which I Will Not Put

It's the middle of the semester ~ it feels like it's been mid-term for weeks. I'm pooped. I'm in that seemingly endless correcting cycle. I dream of essays, and not in a good, "Hi Miss, I'm your student Ben Affleck and I wanted to talk to you about my essay" way.

I'm keeping my fingers crossed that all the extra work will (a) pay off in the foreseeable future and (b) not be repeated next fall. As I did last fall, I am teaching a full daytime course load plus one. That may not sound like a lot - one extra course - but consider that a full load is only three courses to begin with. Imagine taking your current workload and adding a third. If you work a 37.5 hour workweek, that means adding an extra 12.5 hours. No wonder I'm so tired.

To make matters worse, the World's Greatest Mother-in-Law (TM) went home yesterday, which means we're on our own. No more home-cooked meals, no more Grandma-assisted homework, no more rum & Coke appearing magically at exactly the right time (OK, the timing part isn't hard).

But the bright side is multi-faceted. It is the middle of the term, after all, which means one more pile of essays and I'm over the hump. The pile in question is from my Montreal Writers group, which is probably the most fun group I've ever taught (I'm trying not to dwell on the 'it's all downhill from here' side of that particular coin). So far, despite the perpetual corrections, I have not suffered any (major) paper cuts. The extra work is not, perhaps, paying off as instantaneously as I might have hoped, but it is paying off, in that I'll only have to teach one summer course, rather than two, to complete my year.

And my boys continue to be wonderful.

Photo courtesy of Dina

Robert turned seven on Monday, and once again we were fortunate to celebrate with friends and family and an awesome cake.

Ah, well, back to the essays.