It’s the end of another Badgerdog writing workshop. I’m relieved to be done, especially with the twice-weekly drive to Austin dodging rush-hour traffic, but sad to be saying goodbye to my wonderful students. Many of them are going on to college next fall, and I tried to send them off with as much enthusiasm and excitement about writing as I could, knowing that their relationship to the word will undoubtedly change once they get to the University. They’re some very talented and creative kids, and I hope they keep up with the art in some way. I’ve been told that my class snagged the cover of the new anthology, so I’m looking forward to seeing it at the reading at St. David’s this Saturday. Afterwards, Tina and I will go celebrate our “six-monthaversary…”
Vanessa
Laura, a returning student from last term
Carl, another returning student — good luck at UT!
The whole gang of them after the reading
Modelling their new b-dog t-shirts outside
I was just reflecting the other day on how teaching — both this class and the more conventional freshman comp at Texas State — has certainly been different than I thought it would be. Lots of unforeseen pitfalls, moments of insight, experience gathered for the next go-round. I have a lot to learn. But overall, I still find the work rewarding. I mean, look at the smiles (though I doubt my freshmen will be smiling on the last day, or they will, but for different reasons)! Here’s a survey, incidentally, that lists the most “satisfying” jobs — I’ve got two of them…
Funny (well, actually not funny) how two of those “satisfying” jobs also yield disproportionate suicide rates: Authors (or at least poets) and psychologists. Perhaps “satisfied” means “Satisfied that life has nothing offer.”
No, sorry, not parade-raining today, am I, though I feel strong levels of both satisfaction and dissatisfaction with teaching. I guess that means it’s important, though they pay us like chumps/chimps.
Also, those clergymen are lying about their satisfaction. It’s just what they’re supposed to say in order to convince themselves that the fairy tales they believe are real.
well, that’s why i put it in “”. we’ve already swapped tales about heinous jobs we’ve had — i think you “won” that one — and neither of us wants to go back to plucking chickens or whatever it was we did. so it’s just a long slow scrape up the food chain to try to get one of the better teaching gigs, although being a poet will have to be its own reward (insert smiley face committing suicide here). seriously, though, haha, how was your term? we’ll have to tip the margs at manuel’s sometime soon.
tina will love you for the last remark.
Yes; what David said. 🙂
Best job on the planet, boys and girls. For all its conflicts.
A “bit” condescending re: clergymen, but then, I guess that’s the part that’s supposed to be funny…..
Frankly, there’s a lot in common, in my mind, between poets and priests….