Frantic, frantic, frantic. We’re getting ready to make (at least part of) the move from Spackle Manor to the new place (sobriquet TBD) this Saturday. Meanwhile, I’ve been plowing through freshman and lit survey papers for several days, with another crop to take care of tomorrow afternoon/evening. Also, the college is installing a new core curriculum, and the English program is revamping its offerings accordingly, which means that we’re drawing up rough drafts of the new courses we’ll be offering. Yesterday featured a meeting on assessment procedures (the continuing effort to scientistically quantify the art of teaching, an effort that has already befouled the lower grades) — it was scheduled for three hours(!), but blessedly ran out of gas after two. And I observed a couple of my colleagues as part of my Tenure/Promotion committee duties, with writeups I need to do in short order. Speaking of teaching, last week’s winter weather left me a week behind schedule in two classes, and most of week behind in another, so there’s catching up to do. And did I mention we’re moving?
It’s at times like this that I find myself reminded of how grateful I am for Mrs. M. When it comes to practical matters, I’m about as useful as teats on a boar, and moving is rife with practical matters. Add the work-related avalanche I discussed in the above paragraph, and you can understand that I’m even less competent than usual. I’ll steal a few minutes here and there — I edited and submitted a short story to a magazine last night — but frazzled seems to be the word for my current situation. Fortunately, Mrs. M remains her usual terrifyingly efficient self. If Eisenhower had my wife on his general staff, D-Day would have succeeded by October 1943 and come in under budget.
But my point is that I’m still around, and hope to get back into the blogging groove before too long. Thanks for checking in — it’s good to know someone’s reading. Now I have to get back to… well, to something. With luck, Mrs. M will let me know what.