First Day

Well I don't know what all the fuss is about. The first day of school is usually relatively stress-free, at least, as far as the classes I've been teaching my career thus far. It's too early to tell, but meeting my classes and running through the usual shebang of rules, regs and policies went over pretty well. Half the battle was having the next six weeks more or less planned out, which puts a spring in my step like you wouldn't believe. I only made one slip--Gentle Reader can judge for herself whether it was Freudian or not:

Me: And your name is?
Student: (xxxxx). (I don't want to embarass her, if you can dig that.)
Me: Great. Now tell me something about yourself so I can remember you better.
Student: Well, I'm kinda shy...
Me: Why? Were you abused as a child or something?

The words were right out of my mouth before I realized I said them, and I felt a slow, sinking feeling in my gut. Oh shit, I think, I just blew it on the first day. Thankfully enough, the girl wasn't embarassed, the class got to see me put my foot in my mouth for the first time (whew, that's over with), and within a matter of thirty seconds, it was business as usual.

The news reporting class is pretty full, and two kids were set to drop it before I explained what it was all about. Then they were interested, and wanted to stay. Cool. A full load in there, which is nice.

And I'm going to abstain about the new prep for now. I will point out that, when I'm not a hundred percent sure about the assignments, you can guarantee some fun times are ahead for me and the class overall.

One big hurdle (I said it before, but damn it, I'll say it again) is keeping myself organized. I'm using my plan book this year. I happen to be gifted with an incredible memory for the mundane: movie lines, release dates for Led Zepplin albums, you name it, it all stays upstairs and will stay up there until I'm old and grey, unable to remember to wipe my own ass after a healthy bowel movement. No matter--I'll be able to give the nurse giving me my sponge bath a play-by-play of the Dennis Hopper/Christopher Walken scene in True Romance while she's working. Part of this memory ability has always been strong in the short term department. If I have an appointment, or something is due, odds are I usually remember it without having to write it down. But freeing up that part of my mind by writing it all down (and I mean everything, from remembering to send out a staff e-mail regarding news stories for the year to coordinating my paper load with my dentist visits) allows me to concentrate on a few other things.

I also think it's meet to point out that this is probably the least stressed I've been at the beginning of school. Whether it holds or not is another matter. Were I a religious man, I'd be praying for it round the clock. But a different, far more wiser part of me points out that half the battle is attitude, and if I remember that I'm working for a living, it makes me enjoy some semblance of a life that much better.

So what's that life tonight?

It was going to be reading Davies and taking some practice GRE tests. It may still be so. Or I may read the rest of that Ellison book I've had lying around. I read a couple more stories last night, and they were well worth the time. The future of America's youths can wait a few hours, after all.