I'm gonna miss these little guys...
One of the things I've come to really enjoy about this here blog thingy is that it is a place where I come to sit and ponder for a bit about the strange, happy things that wander across my path here in The Haven. Predictable things like my yearly bout in mid-March of deep skepticism that sunshine and flip flop weather will ever come again. Spontaneous and totally unpredictable things like the post-Easter trail of marshmellow Peeps along College Street that guided the scientists of the Medical School towards their work like little sugary trail markers. I spend most of my time rushing, overscheduling, cramming and hurrying to the next thing and I am glad that I Little e's Big Adventure puts the brakes on every few days for some proverbial rose smelling.
Which brings me to my students. I love my students. Today I taught my next to last section in WGSS355b: The Biology of Gender and Sexuality. Next week will be it and I'm already starting to miss Max and Brandon E. and Sydney and Abby. Earlier this morning when I realized how close I getting to the end of the semester, I felt the completely opposite but totally equal sensations of relief and panic washing over me. Relief, because as I have complained to many, my outlay of time and energy for this class has taken a toll on me this semester I never could have imagined. I jokingly said that rather than burning the candle at both ends, I'd just have to chuck the whole thing right into the fire and go. I don't anyone thought my joke was that funny then, and I certainly don't think it's funny now. Just want sleep... so... tired.
But the sense of panic is greater. I love my Yalie undergrads. Every one of those 45 point-grubbing, greek-quoting, way smart or way out there little weasels. I won't miss the stress of Thursdays from Hell, but I will miss the crazy energy these kids have even late in the afternoon in cramped classrooms in the basement. I don't want them to fade back into the anonymous masses that choke the sidewalks between classes, forcing me to walk in the street if I'm unlikey enough to be heading to lab during passing period.
In my panicked, nostalgic state, I took my classes outside yesterday. (I admit, I do want them to remember me as The Cool TA who let them have class in Sterling Quad during nice whether.) I told them that in return for the scenic classroom, they had to let me take a picture of them for my blog. One of them asked if they should make it an action shot - to pose and frown as if they were learning a lot. As I was about to take the picture, I told them to look as if they were participating the most genius, thought-provoking section of their Yale careers, thanks to the brilliant guidance and planning of their TA. The class broke out laughing just as I took the picture.
And now to relief and panic, I add the sensation of nervousness. I am nervous because I don't know why they were laughing. Because of my lame, self-flattering joke? Because they think my sections are the farthest thing from genius and scintillating and they were laughing at the irony of it all?
Ugh. Maybe it'll be good to go back to the bugs full time. They don't laugh and they certainly don't point-grub...
Which brings me to my students. I love my students. Today I taught my next to last section in WGSS355b: The Biology of Gender and Sexuality. Next week will be it and I'm already starting to miss Max and Brandon E. and Sydney and Abby. Earlier this morning when I realized how close I getting to the end of the semester, I felt the completely opposite but totally equal sensations of relief and panic washing over me. Relief, because as I have complained to many, my outlay of time and energy for this class has taken a toll on me this semester I never could have imagined. I jokingly said that rather than burning the candle at both ends, I'd just have to chuck the whole thing right into the fire and go. I don't anyone thought my joke was that funny then, and I certainly don't think it's funny now. Just want sleep... so... tired.
But the sense of panic is greater. I love my Yalie undergrads. Every one of those 45 point-grubbing, greek-quoting, way smart or way out there little weasels. I won't miss the stress of Thursdays from Hell, but I will miss the crazy energy these kids have even late in the afternoon in cramped classrooms in the basement. I don't want them to fade back into the anonymous masses that choke the sidewalks between classes, forcing me to walk in the street if I'm unlikey enough to be heading to lab during passing period.
In my panicked, nostalgic state, I took my classes outside yesterday. (I admit, I do want them to remember me as The Cool TA who let them have class in Sterling Quad during nice whether.) I told them that in return for the scenic classroom, they had to let me take a picture of them for my blog. One of them asked if they should make it an action shot - to pose and frown as if they were learning a lot. As I was about to take the picture, I told them to look as if they were participating the most genius, thought-provoking section of their Yale careers, thanks to the brilliant guidance and planning of their TA. The class broke out laughing just as I took the picture.
And now to relief and panic, I add the sensation of nervousness. I am nervous because I don't know why they were laughing. Because of my lame, self-flattering joke? Because they think my sections are the farthest thing from genius and scintillating and they were laughing at the irony of it all?
Ugh. Maybe it'll be good to go back to the bugs full time. They don't laugh and they certainly don't point-grub...
posted by Eva Marie at 4:06 PM
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