Catching up

redfish, thanks for your suggestion (of the end of Ephesians 4). I'm going to use that, also the famous part from Galatians ("neither Jew nor Greek, neither slave nor free..."). I've used both passages before but in slightly different contexts and it's also been a while.

I'm going to use the Galatians one as a finishing-off bit, and make the observation that there is one label we should "stick" on ourselves - not for anyone else to necessarily see, but as a reminder to ourselves. And then I'm going to write "Child of God" on a sticky note and stick it on me and encourage the kids to do likewise. (Sometimes if I'm willing to lead in doing something a little "goofy," they will follow.)

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I'm still thinking on the Churchill bio. I know the Last Lion is a very good one but I'm not sure I want just now to commit to a major series-read. I've begun buying "A Dance to the Music of Time" as Folio Press comes out with the volumes - it's a series I've always wanted to read and I'm going to start the first one very soon.

I do like the idea of one written by his friend. I tend to like things written by people "who were there" as opposed to people who interviewed people who "were there." I realize there can be just as many inaccuracies and inconsistencies and all that, but still...I like the "voice" that tends to come in "I was there" type of histories.

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Yes, I'm a member of the Folio Society. I recognize that it's a real indulgence and also a bit of an affectation on my part: I could just as well check out my uni library's editions of many books (except they have done away with the 16-week faculty check-out time; we get ten days with our books, same as the students, then we have to either return them or renew them and it gripes me a little to have to constantly be renewing a book that it's taking me a while to read). And besides, I have to admit the snobbish overeducated elite part of me LIKES the idea of Folio Society. I like nice books, with good paper and an easy-to-read typeface and pages that don't fall out (a major complaint I have with most of the cheaper paperbacks, like the mystery novels, that I read. I realize they're largely designed to be disposable but still the falling-out-pages irks me). And illustrations. And book jackets. And all that stuff. And the general Britishy tone of the thing - sort of a never-never land Sebastian Cabot or Peter Ustinov Britishiness that some Americans (like me) tend to fall for and want to believe in. (I don't want to believe in the New Britain, where there is agitiation to offer halal meals in the fish-and-chip places, or where the local school authorities police student lunches so no child gets fat from too many jam butties).

So when the nice glossy Folio catalog with words like "colour" and "centre" and "honourable" in it arrives, I'm often suckered in to buying books.

(And the half-off sales - or the buy-one-get-one sales - that they offer usually in the spring are a pretty dam' good deal. I buy a lot of gifts ahead at that time. Luckily I have a family that likes books.)

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I think I broke through the shell of sadness and unmotivation that was brought on by the end of the last semester. I, once again, have high hopes for my classes. We had bad weather this morning (part of the generalized ice storm complex that's zapped Missouri and Oklahoma and parts of Texas) but 70% of my 8 am general bio class showed up for class. And they PARTICIPATED. And they paid attention.

It wasn't unusual last fall, on even a GOOD weather day, for less than 70% of my general bio class to be present. Now, that was an 11 am class - 11 am classes are generally not so fun - everyone's either tired from their morning classes or they're trying to plot how to get out to the Fatburger at noon for lunch before the rest of the crowd (and my class was supposed to last until 12:15 so you understand the conflict in some of the students' hearts).

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And tomorrow, I'm trying a new lab - that I have high hopes for - with one of my other classes. I had to go buy supplies for it including big sheets of paper at the bookstore. And it felt good, to stride out of the bookstore into the cold afternoon air, with my packets of paper and my big big posterboards under my arm. It felt purposeful and hopeful.

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I tend to go by cycles. I have times when I'm full of hope and full of joy at what I do, and other times when I just feel beaten down by it. Part of it, I think, is the POV I take. This is going to sound odd and potentially psychologically disordered, but if I can get myself into the mode of sort of "watching" myself - like I were a character in a play or a movie - if I can kind of pan back and see the larger picture, I'm happier. Part of it is I often get the odd little sense that I'm playing a part, that it's not the deepest most personal part of ME up there in front of the classroom, and so if I look a little silly or undignified or if I mess up a little, it's not really ME that's messed up - it's the character I'm playing.

And somehow, I'm happier. I have to admit I sometimes even "narrate" in my mind:

"She signed the slip and thanked the clerk. Rewinding her scarf firmly around her neck, she gathered the packets of paper and the large pad of newsprint and tucked them under her arm. She strode to the door, drew back seeing a student entering. When she saw he was holding the door for her, she turned a radiant smile on him and thanked him, then swept out into the windy afternoon."

Yeah, okay. It sounds kind of stupid written down. And to be honest, I've not yet decided if it's a sign of some kind of serious psychological derangement or if it's merely an innocuous coping mechanism. I kind of tend to lean towards the latter, since I "function" just fine (better than just fine at times) in my daily life. And no one really knows I do it - it's not like I'm so "absent" in my narration that I'd not notice someone I knew walking up the sidewalk.

I guess I prefer to think of it as kind of a game I play, a way of belaying boredom during the ordinary everyday tasks, and perhaps, more importantly, convincing myself that the little awkwardness or mistakes that happen in the course of daily life are simply a part of the "character" I play and not some deeply-set stain on my personality.