Seven Weeks

Tonight my class ended. I still have work to do, of course, but it was our last meeting. These summer classes are brutal! Seven weeks is just not enough time to squeeze in fifteen weeks' worth of information. I can get in most of the class stuff, but I think so much of the material is cumulative. Students need time between learning the first thing before they're ready for the next thing. Unfortunately, even with the online part of the hybrid course, time is lacking.

Saying goodbye, on the other hand, is usually easier with the short classes. I guess that makes sense; I don't have as much time to develop connections with the students. Last summer I had a phenomenal class, also a seven-week session but for whatever reason we all -- the students with each other and with me -- meshed in a way that doesn't usually happen with those short classes. (Even during the regular school year, I often teach half-semester classes. Those last for eight weeks.) I liked the group who met for the last time tonight, but not in any amazingly special way. I was happy last week when one mentioned during peer revisions that it was fun. What? Did I hear that correctly? You're having fun -- and saying so -- doing revisions of rough drafts? I made a big deal of it in class, and they all laughed and agreed it was fun and, more importantly (to me, maybe not to them), helpful.

I found out today that my Thursday class for the next seven weeks was canceled and my Wednesday class was moved to Tuesday. I don't care too much one way or the other. One fewer class just means more online scoring, or whatever other job I focus on. I may try to do more with my writing, or I might do something entirely different. I've given up stressing about work. I'll get what I get, and sometimes it will be more, sometimes less. I'll finish my grading for the current course tomorrow and set up for next week. Another seven weeks, another class over. The cycle of life.