vocation

I'm exhausted.

Here's what's happened in the last two weeks: I flew from Washington to Austin to drive to Waco for Ann Miller's funeral, then drove back to Austin, flew back to DC, stayed one night in Bethesda, then moved back into the city, then got back to work, then got a new teaching job in Austin, changed my flight and plans, packed in two hours, flew to Nashville, stayed with my parents for three days, drove to Austin, slept on the Ex-roommate's floor, found a place to live, moved to the Librarian's guestroom, arranged for electricity and a cable modem and movers, filled out the application for my new teaching job, went to the doctor, taught GA's, and learned how to drive when the passenger side of my car is completely full of all the stuff I own that isn't in storage.

On top of that, I've been working 10-11 hour days, because it turns out that it takes a really long time to prepare for your own lectures in a subject you haven't covered since 1996.

But last night I stood up in front of a classroom that was entirely mine for the first time in my life. I hadn't thought too much about it, because I was nervous enough about the class and the students and whether I'd be able to help them understand the tensions in American political life. But when a student asked me a question about grading policies and I could answer - without having to refer to what Professor-such-and-such says - it hit me. This is for real.

It felt so good to be in that reality again. I love teaching. When I don't get to teach, something in me starts to die. I start thinking about leaving my program and finding something else to do. The research is fun, but it's not what keeps me here. So what does? Last night, after three straight hours of teaching (the only advantage of which is that I learned all of their names in one evening), several kids stayed behind to ask questions. The very last student is one who'd made it clear that the course requirement for graduation was the only reason to be there. The student waited until I was ready to leave the classroom and then said, "I heard that Government is the worst class at this school, but I don't think it's going to be that way."

I walked off smiling, even though it was dark and I was alone. The hectic journey across America, the lack of a home, the long days in my dark basement cubicle - it was worth it. I can't wait for next week.