Monday, January 24, 2005

My drive into work today was incredible. Have I ever mentioned how beautiful my commute is? I drive thirty minutes to work every morning at about six in the morning. This morning the temperature was fourteen degrees. This meant that I drove down a mostly deserted highway surrounded by frozen fields and big, icy trees. Also this morning I was graced by the presence of a huge orange-yellow moon hanging behind these shimmery clouds—is it full today? There are also all these old, rickety farmhouses with giant silos poking into the sky. I listened to Dar Williams and peaced out.

Whoa. Hippie moment. But really, it was pretty. I know that this drive will be one of the things I miss about North Carolina when I leave here.

I’m excited to get back to my students. No, really, I am. I’m trying to get through this dang novel and it is taking forever. Novels are hard to assess. I am struggling with that, right now. I don’t want to focus so much on comprehension, but I feel like they need so much help with that. So many decisions.
¶ 4:35 AM

Monday, January 24, 2005
Why is it that starting a class is so exciting but actually doing work for a class sucks so much?

I couldn't wait to get the textbook for my new online class about reading. I waited for UPS to come for days. When it finally came, I cracked it open with relish and smelled the inside (do you do this too or am I a freak?) and dreamed of all the learnin' I was going to get from it. I took it into the bath-- where I do all my serious reading-- and read about learning styles and phonics v. whole language. I highlighted to my heart's content.

Then I got my syllabus! Oh, the excitement! I carefully went through it, made sure to write down each due date in my Palm Pilot, and then wrote all those due dates again on my magnetic dry-erase calendar on my fridge. Then I took out a fresh notebook and new pen and set them neatly on my dining room table, ready for work.

Now I have my first paper due tomorrow. And I am sitting here in front of the computer knowing quite certainly that I am going to pop in a dvd of the Soprano's and watch about five hours of it. Actually doing work for this class strikes me as an impossibility right now. I just can't do it. And I don't want to.

Why do I so love to prepare for things but not do them? I love the idea of classes but I despise taking classes. I love fresh paper and books with uncracked spines...but once the spine is cracked, I don't want anything to do with them.

This is all going to leave me with two hours tomorrow in which this paper has to be written (posthipchick, bring back any memories?). I will do it. I know I can. But it will be a crappy paper and I will have to panic while I do it.

Why, oh, why?
¶ 3:53 PM