It's mostly a wrap

If a semester ever actually ends, this one just did, kinda sorta

On Wednesday, I gave my last lecture for the semester. It was in a communication law class, and the topic was laws around advertising, or commercial speech.

I’d like to say that when I finished, the class rose to give me a standing ovation, but that would be a lie. I missed Monday’s class with a cold, and on Wednesday my voice was iffy and I was tired and I forgot two major points I meant to cover and ended class 20 minutes early. When I finished, they all kind of looked one another and slowly gathered their books. There was a definite, “Wait, is that it?” vibe.

But as the picture above represents, at this point in the semester I’m pleased to have been upright and dressed for class. When I first started teaching full time (seven long years ago), I would sometimes leave class feeling as if I should give students their money back. That class activity flopped. The PowerPoint wasn’t as entertaining as I thought it might be. Technology failed me and the smart classroom acted stupid. Over time, though, I learned that no more than I can give myself a high-five over a good class, I can’t beat myself up over a lame one. You learn to lower your standards, is what.

Veteran teachers talk about a class gelling, where things just come together and the students are engaged and you leave the room humming. And you learn that a class can be a “good” class without every session changing young lives.

We will meet again on Monday, but that’s strictly to enjoy a class breakfast, a tradition I hope to get started. Maybe the promise of food will draw students in.

What happened today? It is hard to describe the kind of tired that wraps itself around you at the end of a semester, and I’m pretty sure the brand of tired varies from teacher to teacher and semester to semester. I have tried to save a little energy so that I am not literally leaving everything on the field. In past semesters I’ve spend the first few days after I grade my last final sleeping — which is weird. I’m not a napper.

I have never worked a physical job. Most of my jobs have been — at most — mentally taxing, some more than the others. Journalism was taxing, but I only had myself to blame for that. Teaching is taxing because of all the other people involved — students, yes, but also administrators and others (all of whom, I imagine, say the same about teachers). From my end of the equation, it can feel as if I’m juggling flaming cats and I dare not drop one. That meeting at 11:30 is on Zoom, but did I lose the link? And there’s a student who needs a recommendation letter for grad school, another who needs an override for a class she should have taken, but didn’t, but she still wants to graduate on time, and today there was a student who sheepishly admitted she is having trouble with financial aid. I’m on it, all of it.

Despite my best efforts, I limped over the finish line. I hope that soon you’re closing the book on a project your own self and if you’re limping over the finish line, well, hell. You’re finishing, and that feels pretty good.