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Be afraid, work that lies before me. Gaze upon the mighty heap of tasks that I’ve accomplished
this morning and tremble.
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It’s all over but the tears and shouting from students — in one section, the Ds and Fs far outnumbered the rest of the grades, but students earn what they earn and I can’t turn a piss-poor effort into an adequate performance on the basis of whether your parents think you are the most brilliant kid ever. (I think my kid is the bee’s knees, but that’s a different issue than whether she can analyze primary documents and write a cogent argument based on that analysis.)
Anyhow, my grades are submitted, my students (including Jimmy Fallon) are commenced, my books are ordered, the honors ceremonies and retirement ceremonies and end-of-the year recitals are over, and I am no longer department chair.
Hello summer.
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The Lanyard (by Billy Collins)
The other day I was ricocheting slowly
off the blue walls of this room,
moving as if underwater from typewriter to piano,
from bookshelf to an envelope lying on the floor,
when I found myself in the L section of the dictionary
where my eyes fell upon the word lanyard.
No cookie nibbled by a French novelist
could send one into the past more suddenly—
a past where I sat at a workbench at a camp
by a deep Adirondack lake
learning how to braid long thin plastic strips
into a lanyard, a gift for my mother.
I had never seen anyone use a lanyard
or wear one, if that’s what you did with them,
but that did not keep me from crossing
strand over strand again and again
until I had made a boxy
red and white lanyard for my mother.
She gave me life and milk from her breasts,
and I gave her a lanyard.
She nursed me in many a sick room,
lifted spoons of medicine to my lips,
laid cold face-cloths on my forehead,
and then led me out into the airy light
and taught me to walk and swim,
and I, in turn, presented her with a lanyard.
Here are thousands of meals, she said,
and here is clothing and a good education.
And here is your lanyard, I replied,
which I made with a little help from a counselor.
Here is a breathing body and a beating heart,
strong legs, bones and teeth,
and two clear eyes to read the world, she whispered,
and here, I said, is the lanyard I made at camp.
And here, I wish to say to her now,
is a smaller gift—not the worn truth
that you can never repay your mother,
but the rueful admission that when she took
the two-tone lanyard from my hand,
I was as sure as a boy could be
that this useless, worthless thing I wove
out of boredom would be enough to make us even.
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Yesterday, it went to
household chores (2 hours)
grading papers and doing the math for final grades (3 hours)
returning e-mails from distraught students (1.25 hours)
attending school function with Kid (1.5 hours)
promenading in the park, enjoying the sun, and watching the tulips bloom (1 hour)
making hats for Kid’s play (1 hour)
supervising dance practice (2 hours)
watching Midsummer’s Night’s Dream and eating popcorn (2 hours)
Facebooking, posting on blogs, reading newspaper online (1 hour)
I’m having a Ben Franklin moment here where I’m feeling like I should impose a more virtuous scheme on my days for the sake of improvement, but everyone’s got to have a little meandering down time.
I am having a lot of fun with making these hats. They’re turning out great, considering that I have no pattern and no previous experience. Sometimes the “hey, what would a person who was making a hat then have access to and what types of techniques might they have used?” gets you surprisingly close to the mark. Audience ignorance of what they are really supposed to look like takes you the rest of the way. They wouldn’t pass muster at a Ren Faire, but as costume pieces they look nice and they are durable enough to last through the performances.
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Just really caught up in the end of the year dance — so much grading, so much test design, so many recommendations to write, so many events to attend. But soon (May 5th), I’ll be launched into my summer and not a moment too soon for my equipoise and my overall health.
So, better luck next week.
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My blog-buddy Ivy and her co-blogger Heather (authors of the always fabulous and friendly Home Ec 101) are sponsoring a cash card and cookbook giveaway. Enter to win!
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– intentionally giving my daughter bad hairdos to speed her towards grooming independence, no matter what she thinks.
– stressed out by my ordinary workload. I am stressed out by unrealistic overpromising predicated on my belief that I “owe” for my good fortune.
– surprised that NC won. Disappointed, but not surprised.
– interested in being a program chair any more, so I’ve lined up my replacement and will be making a graceful exit so that I can concentrate on my writing and teaching.
– happy that it’s snowing. Again. In April.
– going to get to meet the Dalai Lama next week after all.
– taking it personally, but my students aren’t working very hard in my class. Need to help them figure out their motivation, because it must not be high grades. Just sayin’.
– getting enough exercise. On the up side, I’m still walking and my back pain’s a lot better. Classes are over in early May, so I’m going to plan to do what I can until then and then hit it when I have more time.
– understanding why everyone thinks John Rich went over so big at the ACMs. Going over big is what Montgomery Gentry did. (Wearing a ridiculous dress is what Carrie Underwood did, but I digress…she looked like a blowzy American Beauty rose.)
– keeping up with reading the books that come into the house. It’s the only savings plan (besides the one for Kid) that I routinely contribute to.
There. Ten quick hits. Turn it into a meme if you want to.
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It turns out that Albany does have a botanica and occult store. I drove past it today (obviously haven’t been exerting myself too hard to find it, as it’s only about two miles from my house). Looks like their window display is emphasizing Orisha/Yoruba voudun stuff — I’m not enough of an expert to know whether the santos are from Santeria or Umbanda or whatall. Anyhow, looked like an interesting place. I used to know someone who was an Iyanifa (or claimed to be…she was also somewhat unreliable and overburdened with the cares of reality, so she sometimes came a little unanchored, which is a valuable quality to have in someone who travels back and forth between her gods’ place and ours). She had talked about this store, but was always vague on its location.
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Spring magic is happening in my backyard, finally.
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Ever have a day where you’re just down all day long for no reason? Sunshine is no help. Food is no help. Warm drinks after a long walk in the cold is not a remedy.
I swear, I think I’m going to take to my bed and hope that sleep hits the reset button for me.
