So Long...

So, it's finals week in my world, which means high stress, long hours, and incredible pressure. I tend to be over-wrought on all counts, overly-emotional, altogether unpleasant to be around. (This is unfortunate for my daughter, for her birthday falls at the end of finals week.)

I can get through the grading. Every year I write myself notes on how horrible this feels, how very much I should knuckle down earlier in the term to prevent such anxiety and overload...of course, most of this is the nature of the beast, teaching a double load of nearly all college freshman writing classes. I always shake my head in sorrow, lament how it sucks to be me...but then, there are much worse jobs.

The worst part of this: severing ties. Here's where too much disclosure can be downright unmanly, uncomely, uncouth...so I forge ahead. The truth is, I am a sappy guy. I have emotions. I build bridges and bonds and relationships with students that lead me to make too much of an investment in them. "How can a teacher do too much of this?" one might ask, for it would seem good teaching, like good parenting, would be an all-out venture. You cannot love too much, can you?

When I reason through from this angle, I do agree, it's a good thing to throw deep, to "care."

I have had some amazing ends to semesters, too. I've had students bearing gifts. I've had classes applaud. I've had a steady stream of referrals to my classes. Once, back when it was in the collective conscious of the public, a class spontaneously stood up on their chairs and did the "Captain, my captain" thing from Dead Poet's Society. (Really!) I've had people name their children after me. (Not really!) It's been a good ride, overall, even in the home stretch.

It's just that every semester is like a new relationship, or in my case 100's of them. Of the 100's per semester, 99% of them "die." Thus, finals week is like seeing all these people on the morgue table one last time. If ever I see them again, it will likely be years from now. When I see them again, it will be a head bob hello, a grunt, a vague recollection.

Worse yet, the Eddie Haskell's of this world, the kid who seems to be bonding, seems to care, and yet behind my back or the day after grades are due--cold-hearted villain. There's nothing to be done about bad apples and insincerity, but those folk are hurtful, make one want to choke back on the bat and be more an automaton and less a caring individual.

All that said, I feel no better, and I have many, many goodbye's left this week.