I recently found out what I’m teaching next fall.
I am elated.
It is the perfect schedule.
Then I went online to select my books.
The books that I have been using for the last four years.
Only two of the three of them were there.
My reader – the collection of essays upon which I have come to rely – is now out of print, so I will have to reinvent the wheel.
Women will understand this: this is akin to how we feel when we go into the store and find out that our favorite lipstick – the one that looks perfect on us, the one we have used for years, the one that helps to create our signature look – has been discontinued. Guys, I don’t know. This must be what it is like when your sports event has been preempted for A Sex in the City marathon and both your DVR and your computer are broken. So you can never see the game. Actually, I don’t know what this is like for guys. Maybe it’s like when they stop making your favorite hot sauce.
You get my point, though, right?
Immediately after I learned that my book was out of print, I received a lovely, gentle reminder that book orders are due as soon as humanly possible.
Right now, I’m in desperation mode.
I might chew off someone’s arm.
Part of me is considering not using a reader at all and just book-marking all the amazing blogs here in the blogosphere and having my students read them and respond to them. Perhaps use them as writing prompts.
It would definitely save my students a boatload of money.
And it would eliminate those annoying beginning of the year conversations:
Me: Where is your book?
Student: My financial aid hasn’t come in so I haven’t been able to buy some of my books.
Me: How about a pen? Where is your pen?
Student: Yeah. I didn’t have the money.
This conversation generally transpires while the bookless student is gripping the newest and most uber-expensive cell phone, leaving me to think: You manage to shell out $80 a month for that, right? The smartphone you can afford? But not my book? Yeah, you are goin’ places.
But this is just my desperation talking.
Because, you know, I have to revise my entire syllabus.
Which, in truth, isn’t the worst thing.
It’s good to freshen things up and shake things around once in a while.
Because no matter what materials I end up using, there are things that always remain the same.
I may be delusional, but (I think) most of my former students will tell you that I give off the vibe that I find them endlessly fascinating. Which, by the way, is true. They will probably tell you that I give them solid feedback and that I am willing to help them. Day or night. The reality is, I am good to them as long as they do not heckle me.
Because I am the show.
Yeah, yeah, I can run a writing workshop. I can create interactive activities for them. But if students want to excel in my class, they need, first and foremost, to have a good sense of humor. After all, I’m working my butt off to provide them with culturally relevant, fresh material. But my show only runs three days a week, so they’d better not miss my routine. Once they are invested, I expect them to work their tails off to try to impress me with their thinking and writing. I want to see those synapses a-firin’. Because nobody sees my show for free.
I was not a cheerleader in high school for nothing. I was in training. I was a gymnast and a dancer and I even danced (briefly) for money on a hydraulic lift. (Don’t ask.) I performed in plays throughout my life and, in graduate school, I got up on stage to sing. Why?
Because secretly I wanted to be Stevie Nicks. Because I was honing my craft – learning how to deliver my lines, to speak with authority, with presence, with passion, with humor, with humility. I was learning to be fearless, – so my students would, one day, dare I say it, actually want to do things for me.
That sounds dirty.
I don’t mean like that, you pervs.
I mean students can tell when a teacher has prepared; they can tell which teachers genuinely care about what their students have to say, which teachers value their words, which teachers are working to give their students the skills they need to succeed in the future. And when students feel this, they generally want to please.
So my beloved book of essays is out of print.
It’ll be okay.
Things are looking good right now.
I’ve checked things out and my room for the fall does not have a pole in the middle of it, like the classroom I had last year.
Don’t get me wrong, the pole was fun. For a while.
But “obstructed view” is never the seat you would want at a kick-ass concert.
In this room, every seat’s a good seat.
Can’t wait to shake my groove thing.
So for now, I don’t rightly know exactly what I’m doing in the Fall of 2011.
I can only say with confidence, that the show will go on.
And now that I think about it, if I’m shaking things up, it’s probably time to get a new lipstick.
I’ve been wearing Malt for way too long.