Drat. It Does It to Me Every Time. Tim Gatreaux's 1998 Short Story "Welding with Children" - the Perfect Text for Conversations About America and Writing

I should know better by now than to say, "We'll quickly read Welding with Children, then we'll move onto application of course materials and developing middle and secondary readers." The story takes over the night, and even though I set it up, there is never enough time to discuss it. There's so much right going on with this storytelling and I lose myself in the conversations about it. I should of assigned it...not read it in class.

In other words, I over planned. God Bless my graduate students. It's okay, though, because by the time you read this I'll already heading back to campus to teach the 8 a.m. (with 45 1st graders...wish me luck). 

And to all the coughing, sneezing, leaking undergraduates at Fairfield University who come into the hallways to blow snot and excrete mucus, there are people walking through those same hallways. It's not the graduate students because the halls are empty from 4 pm on (as are the classrooms). It's the undergraduates in their afternoon classes, and it is really is gross. I'm cool with the mask mandate going away, but maybe sick students should just stay home. This thing has been brutal. We don't need them blowing boogers onto the carpet and walls of Canisius Hall.

I'm living between my ears. Slight headache in the front, pain where the staples are, and post-Covid fogginess. They tested me for a concussion, and I passed, meaning I don't have one. Still, I'm not feeling like Bryan....just 1/10th of him. He's there somewhere....Maybe like Voldemort on the back of Quirinus Quirrell's head.

I need another cup of coffee before I head out the door. Sorry that every Wednesday post is likely to be this same whining, but an evening class Tuesday followed by an 8 a.m. on Wednesday is just whack. All the ducks are lined up, but the energy it takes is impossible. 

But, off I go. See ya.