All Teaching, All the Time

I’m not complaining, honestly (well, maybe a little bit); I have a great job, no doubt about it (what could be better than getting paid to read and talk about philosophy with rooms full of young minds, some of whom have actually done the reading!).

But, at times, it wears slightly thin, (as I’m sure all jobs do—except that one I read about on the internet a week or so ago that involved nothing more than living on a south Pacific island, snorkeling, and occasionally blogging about it.)

This week has sometimes felt like one of those times. It all began last Friday, when I spent pretty much all day grading papers; Saturday was much of the same. Sunday, I did more grading, but only just enough to appease the football gods and ensure the Steelers’ win. Then, Monday was all about finishing up another electronic stack of papers and preparing my classes for this week.

On Tuesdays and Thursdays, I teach two 2-hour classes back-to-back, which means I’ve got to have everything all laid out for both of them before I go in. (Granted, one of the habits I’ve adopted over my years in the classroom is not to overprepare, but still, it’s not as if I go in there with no ideas whatsoever.) And sometimes, especially at the beginnings of quarters, it feels like I’m the only one doing any work, as if students are just sitting there, waiting for me to info-tain them.

Wednesdays, I teach from 8:30 to 10:30 at the UW, then hightail it up to Cascadia for a 1:15 class. And while, I’m sure this is nothing compared to the life of so-called “freeway flyers,” who sometimes teach at three or more institutions, it remains a shock to my essentially lazy nature.

What all this means, basically, is that all I’m ever doing is being a teacher—not that I’m complaining; after all, it's not as if I have the time to.