I’m halfway through my first semester of teaching “Intro to Fiction” to undergraduate students at Emerson College. I love it. And, it’s a lot of work. My classes meet five days a week, and then there are office hours and, of course, prep time. Lots of prep time.
Last week when our mid-term break arrived, I spent the first few days cleaning house, doing laundry, gathering paperwork to file my taxes and, yes, prepping for my next round of classes. And then the annual conference of the Association of Writers and Writing Programs (AWP) rolled into town. For the last three days I’ve lived in a carnival with approximately 11,000 other writers, attending panels on craft, teaching and literature; on-site and off-site readings; a giant book fair; nightly receptions; and drinking far too many glasses of wine. I loved it.
When I woke up this morning, my back was sore and the grey matter inside my skull felt like a wrung-out sponge. So today, on the very last day of break, I took a day trip with my partner (also a writer and professor) to look at the late winter ocean, eat steamers at the Barnacle restaurant and wander about the historic town of Marblehead, Massachusetts.
We just arrived back home and I thought about doing some reading for tomorrow’s class. My partner is snoring on the couch. He’s been at this teaching thing a lot longer than me. I think he’s sending me a message: even teachers deserve a day of rest.