First day of classes here at IU. My alarm went off crisply at half six, long before anyone else was awake. It was pitch-black outside still, the full moon setting in the west and shining through Lindsay's window (her bedroom door was open since she's still gone).
I managed to fit in breakfast, scanning over lesson plans, replying to a smattering of e-mails, and quiet time before leaving the house at twenty past eight. This semester I teach at five past nine on the third floor in Ballantine, in a room much less sleek and glossy than the room I had last term. When I opened the door, twenty-two blank, dazed faces glanced furtively at me. I tried to smile at them, but my hello-you're-strangers-don't-eat-me smile isn't very convincing. Need to keep working on that.
Class went well on the whole. Picking up on Dr. E's unorthodox methods, I decided to ask my students to go by last names this term. Everyone is "Ms" or "Mr." We'll see how that's received. I'm hoping that it will make the classroom feel slightly more professional. Since Mary and I are teaching the same syllabus, centered on the theme of monsters, I used an opening exercise with a Zombie Uncle Sam image, which actually generated some interesting discussion about nationalism vs. individualism and the connotations of black-and-white as opposed to colored photography.
Highly relieved to be done, I swung out of the classroom ten minutes early (first day never takes full time) and walked to Scott's house. The morning was pristine: a sky almost autumnal with the depth of its blue, air perfectly clear, almost warm, and birds beginning to sing again everywhere. Cardinals, mourning doves, sparrows, chickadees, birds that have been silent for the past couple of months. At Scott's house he met me on the front step, and we walked around looking for daffodils. They're beginning to shove their way through the damp earth already.
At home again I spent the rest of the morning working on lesson plans and writing e-mails, tidying up loose ends. By the time I ate lunch, I'd finished everything on my task list for today, so I spent the afternoon luxuriating in
Anathem by Neal Stephenson. The book ate me alive. So dense, though, that I couldn't take it all in at once, so I dozed some, worked on wedding plans some, and then practiced my flute for the first time in months. Bach sonatas. Gorgeous. The book left me sitting in the dark in my room, head in my hands, thinking hard about the possibilities of parallel universes, Christianity, and C.S. Lewis's
Space Trilogy.
In the midst of this, Laura shouted upstairs that tea was ready. She, Lisa, Lindsay, and I ate tea together for the first time in months. Delightful. Laura had made corn chowder, and we sat around and narrated our Christmas holidays to each other. Afterward we curled up on the sofas and had our "family" Christmas. Wee fun presents--scarves, jewelry, stationery, wacky or weird things that make each other laugh. We sat around, giggling over our presents for awhile.
At about nine Scott came over. He and I chatted with Laura for a bit, then went upstairs. Told each other about our days. Wedding-planned. The usual.
