When I grow up
Sep. 12th, 2003 07:31 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
coffeesnob318Maybe I'll be a writer. Or a mediator. Or a fairy godmother.
This is what I was thinking when I was waiting for the bus this afternoon. It all started rather innocently, as I was gazing up at a skyscraper in downtown Dallas (because what else am I going to gaze at? The sidewalk? The riveting behavioral pattern of pigeons? No.), and reflecting on the general non-productiveness of my day. You see, we missed a day, so to make up that day and stay on the schedule written by the person I'm subbing for, I've been lecturing like a madwoman. And we finished all six chapters of lecture earlier this week. And college students are at least bright enough to catch on when you're just making crap up to kill time, particularly when you are too tired to give a damn if they notice that you're just making crap up to kill time. So, to avoid that whole ugly scene, I let them have a free day today. But I still had to go in to sign my contract so that I can get paid for all this extra work I'm doing (it's not much, but I have grown accustomed to being paid occasionally). So I'm sitting at the bus stop after being at school a few hours and hanging out online, because I'm one of those annoying people who is always ahead of schedule, so I had no real work to do, and generally being in the way in the tiny workspace that all the adjuncts share, so I left early, but felt sufficiently remorseful about it (you know, since they're paying me and all). And suddenly, the skyscraper, particularly the one hidden by the fog, becomes a metaphor for my whole useless day.
My students were probably using their time off to write their papers (who am I kidding - they were sleeping) about the current controversy surrounding the dismissal of the Dallas police chief. It erupted into a media whore, I mean, war (but really, what's the difference?) over racial strife. They really did not want to write this paper. Sure, a couple were happy about it. In a group of 150 students, you're bound to have a couple of optimists who care about their community. But while the others didn't mind using it as an example in class - in fact, they were the ones who brought it up, thus sparking my genius plan to use it as an essay topic - they got really quiet when a real discussion about it developed. And they most certainly don't want their viewpoint of the issue to be the topic of their first paper. Most of them claim apathy as the reason they don't want to write about it, but that reason is a little hard to defend when the class average so far is 6 pages per student. Funny - I could have sworn my assignment only asked for 3-4 pages. So, they willfully took the initiative to double their workload because they...don't...care... Right.
Not wanting to talk about it to avoid conflict - sure, I can buy that. It's not a very interesting reason, but at least it's a believable one. Sick to death of talking about it, especially since such talk has yet to produce a workable resolution - I can even more readily accept that. But writing 2 pages past the maximum requirement does not communicate apathy, even if their apathy is the subject.
So now I have taken a nap, but I still have a headache and I'm not even enjoying my cup of tea. See what breathing too many bus fumes can do to you, kids?
On second thought, I don't want to be a writer. Not if I can't just gaze up at the sky, sip my cup of tea, and enjoy the moment and the extra hours instead of having the Urge That Will Not Be Denied to jot it down before I forget my snooty, obvious, shallow train of thought. There's so much more, but it's all drivel and should stay where it came from - my smog-bogged brain (and don't get me started on the rhetorical significance of smog).
Besides, becoming a writer (or a mediator...or perhaps even a fairy godmother) would mean that I'd have to admit that I've grown up. And I'm just not sure I'm ready to do that yet.
This is what I was thinking when I was waiting for the bus this afternoon. It all started rather innocently, as I was gazing up at a skyscraper in downtown Dallas (because what else am I going to gaze at? The sidewalk? The riveting behavioral pattern of pigeons? No.), and reflecting on the general non-productiveness of my day. You see, we missed a day, so to make up that day and stay on the schedule written by the person I'm subbing for, I've been lecturing like a madwoman. And we finished all six chapters of lecture earlier this week. And college students are at least bright enough to catch on when you're just making crap up to kill time, particularly when you are too tired to give a damn if they notice that you're just making crap up to kill time. So, to avoid that whole ugly scene, I let them have a free day today. But I still had to go in to sign my contract so that I can get paid for all this extra work I'm doing (it's not much, but I have grown accustomed to being paid occasionally). So I'm sitting at the bus stop after being at school a few hours and hanging out online, because I'm one of those annoying people who is always ahead of schedule, so I had no real work to do, and generally being in the way in the tiny workspace that all the adjuncts share, so I left early, but felt sufficiently remorseful about it (you know, since they're paying me and all). And suddenly, the skyscraper, particularly the one hidden by the fog, becomes a metaphor for my whole useless day.
My students were probably using their time off to write their papers (who am I kidding - they were sleeping) about the current controversy surrounding the dismissal of the Dallas police chief. It erupted into a media whore, I mean, war (but really, what's the difference?) over racial strife. They really did not want to write this paper. Sure, a couple were happy about it. In a group of 150 students, you're bound to have a couple of optimists who care about their community. But while the others didn't mind using it as an example in class - in fact, they were the ones who brought it up, thus sparking my genius plan to use it as an essay topic - they got really quiet when a real discussion about it developed. And they most certainly don't want their viewpoint of the issue to be the topic of their first paper. Most of them claim apathy as the reason they don't want to write about it, but that reason is a little hard to defend when the class average so far is 6 pages per student. Funny - I could have sworn my assignment only asked for 3-4 pages. So, they willfully took the initiative to double their workload because they...don't...care... Right.
Not wanting to talk about it to avoid conflict - sure, I can buy that. It's not a very interesting reason, but at least it's a believable one. Sick to death of talking about it, especially since such talk has yet to produce a workable resolution - I can even more readily accept that. But writing 2 pages past the maximum requirement does not communicate apathy, even if their apathy is the subject.
So now I have taken a nap, but I still have a headache and I'm not even enjoying my cup of tea. See what breathing too many bus fumes can do to you, kids?
On second thought, I don't want to be a writer. Not if I can't just gaze up at the sky, sip my cup of tea, and enjoy the moment and the extra hours instead of having the Urge That Will Not Be Denied to jot it down before I forget my snooty, obvious, shallow train of thought. There's so much more, but it's all drivel and should stay where it came from - my smog-bogged brain (and don't get me started on the rhetorical significance of smog).
Besides, becoming a writer (or a mediator...or perhaps even a fairy godmother) would mean that I'd have to admit that I've grown up. And I'm just not sure I'm ready to do that yet.
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no subject
Date: 2003-09-14 12:46 pm (UTC)Well does that mean I can be a princess - fangirl? I'm all ready to give you a reference based upon the contents of the big-ass box I got in the mail!!
Hee!! It was just like Christmas morning, cept it was really 6:00pm on September 13!!
g
no subject
Date: 2003-09-15 04:52 am (UTC)Hmmm. Guess it's not so magical after the fact.