20140828.0728

It is the second week of the new term and I think that one of the common teacherly events is already happening to me. For with the exposure to hundreds if not thousands of new people comes exposure to their germs, and I think some of them are trying to take hold of me.

It is not a pleasant sensation. I spent much of yesterday with a fever--in near-hundred-degree heat--and although I was able to be much indoors, the ventilation was not so good as it could be, and "much indoors" still means "outside some."

Too, there was the headache. I fought it all day, and although I held my own, I could not defeat the foe, eventually retiring. That it was joined by a neckache did not help matters; ganging up may not be honorable, but it is effective, and victory means more in a fight than most things.

Sinuses also had their say. I was phlegmy and still am, draining a bit in the back to form viscous sputum that I cast from me in disgust and to disgust when others see it. I am reminded of Sandra Cisneros, and I cannot say that I am pleased by the reminder.

Even so, I did my day's work. I was at my office just before eight, held formal hours at ten, taught my four classes beginning at eleven-thirty, worked with a student after, graded and did some scholarly reading, and then walked through the heat to tutor another student.

I worked with the last for an hour. His project is one carried over from the spring, and it is really coming along. The abstract for his paper looks good (and reminds me that I need to write one of my own), and the paper is shaping up well.

I am also prepared for classes on Friday. The lesson planning that needed to happen has happened, and while I will review my materials again then, I need not worry overmuch about doing so. It is a good position in which to be, and I hope to use it to move ahead and plan for further future lessons.

The result is that I am able to take today to rest. Not that I will be wholly idle: my Mrs. works, and so I must care for Ms. 8. There is more reading for me to do and more writing. But I need not be frantic about them. I have the day, and I can take the day instead of taking care of other things.

I am free to play a little with my writing. Different styles and different framings matter, as I have discussed and others have argued at great length. (I am minded of McLuhan and McGann.) Exploring them is of benefit to me; finding what works when helps.

I am more importantly free to enjoy the day. Not all are, I know, and I am not pleased that it is so. But I am, and so I will.