This time tomorrow will be the first day of the semester. It will be the first day of the getting the kids out on time. It will be the first time for meeting the people I will share my life with for the next couple of months. It will be where I have to show up and grow up.
In no particular order:
I found out I had a paper accepted at the Boston conference of the American Literature Association (not bad). I will be presenting on “Writing, Surveillance, and Resistance in the works of William Wells Brown.” This means I’ll be going home for the first time in 15+ years. I grew up in Boston, and I hope to show my kids what’s left of the place I was raised. I hope that I can let go of the racist nonsense I grew up with in Boston in the 1970s.
I’ve got a ton to do to make this a successful year for my students and myself. As usual I am getting a late start on a lot of my (extra-curricular) preparations, but I am excited. Teaching a new version of one class and my first lit class are both exciting propositions. I am, in my way, psyched.
I was particularly sensitive to the personalities in my family yesterday. I hope I can get over this particular bout of “the hypos.” As we all sat on the stoop airing the guinea pigs and talking with our neighbors I was stung by the comments that the people I love had made about me over the course of the last 24 hours. You know you’re depressed when you enter into a battle of wills with three kids whom you love madly. Kids are so much better suited to battles of wills, it is all they have. Alas, mine is eroded (washed away) by experience.
Yesterday was the first good run I’ve had in a month and I am going to end here to go for another one.