Sayonara, Spring Semester

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Yesterday morning, I taught my last positive psychology class of the semester. While the end of the semester is always bittersweet, closing out this class definitely inspired some pangs of loss. An upper level elective where everyone chose the class because they wanted to be there, it had a different feel than the requirement-fulfilling classes I'm used to teaching. In addition, this was the first class I created from scratch, and it was a small class that included activities and assessments as part of the curriculum, so there was a personal element built in, allowing us to make connections, much as I had when I worked as a counselor.

On positive psych class days, I never failed to leave campus smiling. But yesterday, I was a little sad.

What a difference a day makes.

Today, I taught my last two classes for the semester. I enjoy these students, too, and will especially miss the discussions we had in my afternoon class, which just clicked. But today it was 90 degrees and I taught two classes back-to-back in a third floor classroom with no evidence of air conditioning. We got a cross breeze going, but it didn't really cool the room down and by the time I was finished, I was wilting and so were my students.

In a way, I'm grateful because now, I'm ready.  I've been barreling toward the end of the semester so quickly and with my blinders so securely in place that I came close to losing track of the reality of this day. It was only this morning that I realized that, although I have plenty to do tomorrow -- papers to grade, writing projects to tackle, a house to put back into shape -- I don't have to set an alarm.

Unlike most summers, I have only a few weeks off before I teach again. Since I've agreed to teach a summer session course, my summer break is shorter by a month. I'll be off while my daughter is home and I'll have time for a vacation, and so this plan, which allows me to do all the things I love, is a good one.

Tonight, I have papers to grade and projects to work on, mail to sort through, things to put away. But I am taking a break. Tomorrow, I will dig in again, moving into finals' week at a more leisurely pace, refreshed by a night off and a break in the routine, inspired by a semester whose end is bittersweet.

Hi Ho, Hi Ho, It's Back to Work I Go

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Today, I met my first group of new students for a class that's also brand new to me this semester. It's been a busy month -- almost exactly a month, as a matter of fact, since I gave my last final -- and it hardly seems time for a new semester to start. But, I spent yesterday putting the final perfectionistic touches on my first day plan: pursuing a just-right syllabus, a clear online interface and an engaging kick-off of the plan for the semester.

Today started with snow as icing on the cake of nerves that always accompanies the first day back to class. My husband had trouble getting to work in his all-wheel drive vehicle, leaving me to fret over what my trip to school would be like. Although most of the county's schools, along with some businesses, were either closed or opening late, my school maintained its start time for the first day of the new semester. Luckily, as the morning wore on, the snow stopped and the plow made passes up and down the street, assuring that my drive would be on wet roads rather than snow-covered ones.

Before I left, I ran through my brief slide show one last time. Sure, I could riff on the syllabus without slides, but I thought my students deserved a visual.

Yeah, so much for that.

I arrived early, but the class before mine still occupied the classroom. Not entirely bad, as I got to catch up with a student who, much to my delight, was on my roster for the third time (three different classes -- she's an excellent student).

Once inside, I took out my laptop and set it on the podium, where there was no HTMI cable to be found.

No problem. I logged on to the desktop computer and prepared to download my slides.

Problem.

Long story short (too late, I know), I ditched the slides, riffed on my syllabus and delayed the TED Talk I'd planned on showing -- all responses that would have freaked me out a few semesters ago. After class, a new group of students filtered in behind their professor, ruling out the tech trouble-shooting I'd hoped to do after class. From my car, I composed an e-mail to IT on my phone and summoned my optimism for better technological cooperation on Friday.

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Bad first day? Not at all.

My students were a treat. Awake, alert (it's an 11:00 class, after all) and there by choice rather than because they had a requirement to fulfill, they spoke, they smiled, they shared. The class might not have gone as planned, but the main ingredient was just right, and I think we're all excited to explore what comes next.

And so a new semester begins. Nothing like a little flexibility to get the ball rolling.

Writing New Rules

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New semester, new schedule.

One of the most interesting aspects of this new life I took on five years ago is that no two days are ever the same. Oddly enough, I used to say that about my old job; clearly, this is a selling point for me.

When I worked as a school counselor, the working hours were pretty consistent. Some days I'd have meetings before and/or after school, but Monday-Friday, my working hours were basically the same. Sure, there were breaks, the longest of which came in the summer and required an actual, but welcome, time adjustment, but, for most of the year, my Monday-Friday schedule matched that of much of the rest of the working world.

When I first retired, I felt as though I were playing hooky every day. Then, when I started teaching at the college, a structure began to emerge. My teaching days were structured by a single class and one office hour, while my "off" days were spent creating materials for my teaching days. I got up when my daughter did and structured my days around hers.

As one class blossomed into two, then three, new textbooks and new courses created a steady stream of work to complete, but the when and how was all up to me. Early on, work began to bleed into leisure, and work hours began to move beyond the traditional nine-to-five and into evenings and weekends. I didn't mind. I loved what I was teaching and the preparation was a challenge I enjoyed. I still got up when my daughter did and, after a while, it was easy to feel as though I "should" be doing something during all of my waking hours.

Now, my daughter's high school days are behind her, and my days of rising before 8 AM are largely behind me as well. Not having to "get up for work in the morning" gives me an illusory sense of freedom. I can stay up as late as I'd like -- which is appealing to a night owl like me -- knowing it's up to me to decide when the alarm goes off, and how I fit writing, planning and grading into the hours when I'm not teaching.

But, realistically, the best hours for me to work are when the world is at work, too. It's quiet, there are no interruptions and I don't look like some sort of lazybones who can't manage to get out of bed and start her day when the rest of the world does.

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That last part affects me much more than it should. Early this morning, for example (2:15 AM for those of you keeping score at home), I had a great idea. My schedule being what it is, I should have gotten up and worked on it when it was fresh in my mind and I was excited about it.

Why didn't I? I'm not sure. I don't teach today, so if I'd worked from 2:15 to 3:15AM, I could've slept an extra hour to make up for it.

The truth is, it all feels so indulgent. I find it perfectly acceptable for my nineteen-year-old to set a schedule that revolves around her classes, but she's nineteen -- that's what she's supposed to do, and that's what all of her friends do, too. Outside my work space (home), my peers are keeping a traditional nine-to-five schedule -- or something resembling it -- and when I don't do the same, instead of feeling rebellious and exuberant, I feel as though I'm not measuring up.

It's silly, really. Most days, I get at least as much done as I did when I was working on someone else's schedule, but still, swimming against the tide feels awkward at best and, at worst, as though I'm breaking some unspoken rule of maturity.

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The truth is, I've been apologizing for taking Frost's "road less traveled by" for five years now. And
this? This schedule thing? It's more of the same.

Maybe, just maybe, it's time to enjoy the path I'm on, and be content to let those who prefer the highway enjoy their ride.

Chances are, they're zipping by too quickly to care much about mine.

Friday Feature: Advice for College Freshman

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Yesterday, I taught my last class of the semester, roughly 24 hours after I received my last request (I hope) for extra credit. After class, I met with a student (a freshman), and we discussed the multitude of life lessons she's learned this year, along with a few necessary academic prep skills she learned the hard way.

Some kids leave high school ready for the adventure that is college. Others show up in the fall needing to learn much more than what's in their textbooks.

All of these kids would benefit from reading this article on things new college students should know. While expectations will vary from one professor to the next, every professor will expect personal responsibility to be on the list of things students bring to class.

Without it, freshman year feels a lot longer and more painful than it ought to.

Monday Morning Musings

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 The end of the semester is approaching, and I am excited. The break between semesters means I get to set aside my professor hat for a bit and put on my writer hat on a daily basis. I get to to take the projects that have been bumping around in my head and spend some time on them (after an appropriate period of procrastination, a.k.a. "changing gears," of course). I'm already beginning to make lists in anticipation of this changeover, hoping that prioritizing things means I'll make progress on more than one project.

I'm also a little sad, though. Teaching is about more than just making connections to the material; under the best of circumstances, it also means making connections to the students, and I will miss this semester's bunch. As an elementary school counselor, I had most of my students -- for better or for worse -- for four years. Now, I keep the young adults who populate my classes for only a semester, and though our paths may cross again on campus, I'm unlikely to see most of them once they've completed my class.

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And even though they're not little kids, some of them tug at my heart strings. This is particularly true in a small class because I feel as though I get a little peek into each of their personalities. While I scratch the surface in a class of 30, a class half that size lends itself to more discussion and more one-on-one contact. And when those students are freshmen just finding their footing, the instructor/counselor line blurs just a bit.

Three semesters in, I've found my own footing as well. Satisfied that I've got the bulk of the content delivery piece in place, I can relax into the role, secure in the feeling that I have more to offer my students than elucidation of the material in their textbooks. It's a good feeling.

And so, while I'm looking forward to settling into my writer role for a month, I know that won't be the only role I play during that time. Beyond the break, new students beckon (along with a new textbook for one of my classes) and so I'll need to set aside time to prepare. Though I struggle to find writing time when the semester is in full swing, I've also learned that one role feeds the other, though each needs its own special time in order to thrive.

As it turns out, I need both in order to thrive as as well.

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Goldilocks Creates a Schedule

I spent two days last week trying to create a schedule for a class I'm teaching this semester, only to end up totally frustrated and unsatisfied. Okay, maybe not two full days -- but too big a chunk of those days to end up without the desired (by me) version of the product I'd set out to create.

The trouble was, I wasn't the one who desired the product, and while my endeavors yielded some benefits, the whole exercise once again provided validation of something I already knew.

My brain just doesn't work that way.

Don't get me wrong. I don't think creating the schedule (imperfect though it was) was a waste of time -- precisely because not everyone's brain works the same way. My students who are planners will like this resource -- many will need this resource. And to be honest, I got something out of the process, too. Creating the schedule helped me to sketch out plans for the first two or three units of the semester.

But that's where I got stuck. I was lacking no resource. I had samples and all the information I could possibly want about the subject matter, but I haven't met my students yet and so I haven't yet answered the Goldilocks question for this group of undergraduates: too easy, too hard or just right?

And it was the just right that led me to want to throw things and pull out my hair. And spend much too much time on what should have been a simple task.

In the end, I settled for as close to just right as I could get, with the disclaimer that all dates are approximate and subject to change. If my students "get" something right away, I don't want to drag it out for another  30 minutes just because the schedule says so. And if, on the other hand, they don't "get" something, I don't want to push forward just because the schedule says so.

Fortunately, no one expects me to do that. Over the course of the semester, I need to cover the material  and approximate schedule or no approximate schedule, I'm at liberty to change the dates, the assignments, the order of topics…all of it.

So why was this so hard?

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Because without meaning to, I'd made it a matter of absolutes. For me, creating a schedule creates the illusion that certain items will be checked off at certain times. This topic will take ten minutes, that one twenty, and the one over there, well, that could take a day or two. When I hear "schedule," I think "itinerary."

Hmm. Could it possibly be that it took so long because I kept getting in my own way?

And so perhaps my first lesson for the semester was a lesson in empathy. Should I require my students to follow a path that's an uphill climb because the adults have mapped it out and determined it's the best way to go? Or should I encourage them to ignore the GPS and follow the path that makes sense to them, provided they arrive at the right destination? Isn't it only fair for them to expect that if they're going to put in the work, the eventual outcome will be of some benefit to them as well?

Yes, I know that all sounds ridiculously idealistic, but I'm not sure that's such a bad way to begin a semester. Reality will intrude for all of us soon enough as we check off the things we must accomplish, but for me, one of the things I want to teach my students is a love of learning. If I'm to do that, then I need to encourage them to create connections between themselves and the subject matter so that when an assignment requires divergent thinking, they truly believe they're not only allowed to flex that muscle but encouraged to do so. I can put the information into the semester's GPS, expecting -- and even encouraging -- a little "recalculating" along the way.

And for me the first step is unboxing the schedule.

Speaking of schedules…last week, I shifted into "semester mode" and completely forgot about Word Count Wednesday. Due to an unpredictable week which lacked sprints, stretches and pretty much all things writing-related that weren't also school-related, I not only didn't have much to report. I didn't realize until last night that I'd failed to report it.

Look for an update this Wednesday :-)

On the Cusp

There was one table left beside the cream and sugar station with a lone chair as its companion when I arrived at "my" Starbucks with my laptop slung over my shoulder around noon. The cushy chairs at the back, the ones I'd taken over when I did my book signing here, were all available, but today I was here to work.

The spring semester is drawing to a close, and I can feel the shift in my priorities. Class planning is still at the top of the list, but with only one class left before finals week, it doesn't feel as urgent. Writing is finding its way back in, and as much as I enjoy teaching, I am looking forward to readjusting the balance for a few months, putting my writing first instead of squeezing it into nooks and crannies.

Today is a social day, too. I met out-of-town friends for breakfast at Panera (rather than at my house which is suffering from end-of-semester paper clutter disorder) and am meeting another friend -- a retired teacher -- for lunch in less than an hour. I do some of my best work in these in-between time slots. I know I have a deadline and that increases my determination to accomplish something so I can check it off my list and enjoy my social engagement without that nagging feeling that I should be doing something else.

I was a little worried that the transition out of spring semester and into summer would be challenging -- that I'd decide I deserved a break before moving into summer writing mode and I would lose valuable writing time to the need for downtime. Fortunately, a succession of writing events -- Lancaster Christian Writers' Super Saturday in April, my writing retreat last weekend and the Pennwriters retreat in two weeks -- are creating a smooth transition for me, along with a delicious sense of anticipation. Coming home from the retreat to an article sale (an article I polished at the retreat), a guest blog post (also polished at the retreat) and the news that I'd won a free hour of author coaching in the drawing I'd entered on Super Saturday certainly didn't hurt my motivation.

Leaving a sure thing for the promise of something new two years ago is one of the scariest things I've ever done. I knew I could do the work-at-home thing -- I'd been doing it as a writer for years -- but there were so many unknowns, including the question of whether I'd maintain my momentum or fall prey to a leisurely pace that hindered my progress because the time pressures I was used to had been lifted.

The pace in the past year has been far from leisurely, and most days, I like it that way. I achieve balance most weeks, too: a combination of writing, teaching and seeing friends so I don't become a hermit or a workaholic. I am, however, looking forward to the longer stretches of time that summer affords, knowing they will allow me to think rather than just to do. I have a number of writing projects cooking, so to speak, and I need some quiet time to decide where to turn up the heat and what to let simmer.

And this time, I'm not in a hurry to get out of the kitchen.