My Other Life

Multi-tasking and a day of activities that (now) requires the guidance of a written list heralds the new semester. I did my weekly service act, by taking bread to the food pantry in Taylor. At home, there was laundry and freezing the garden riches and dog-walking and counter-wiping. Tonight, I assume my SuperHeroine cloak and attempt to lead the next generation into an appreciation of the rich diversity of life here on earth. There are thirty on the roster; what is a reasonable expectation of my success in turning the lights on in their heads: 10%, 50%, 90%? I have such hopes! The first day -- like so many "firsts" -- sets the tone for the whole semester. I want to find the balance between relaxed fun and serious rubrics. I want to be some sort of mix of wise old lady and cool old-er woman. I want to be inspiring -- I'll settle for lots of A's, and count it a good day if I leave the lecture hall feeling energized myself.

I do this for me. Really. It's a job that I love. It feels important -- but perhaps no more important than taking bread to Taylor. I can contribute here, with abilities and life-experience and smarts and strong training. I focus my efforts on the students and choose what will make the 3-hour session, for them, enlightening. I work hard to keep up my end of the deal: grades posted in a timely fashion, accessibility between class periods, candy & jokes & breaks. It's a service-type job. Really. And I do it for my own gratification. My wish for them: have a life that feels good.