Another adventure

Six months ago, I was invited on a new adventure. A dozen friends in my writers’ group wanted to publish an anthology and needed an editor. At the time the idea was made of talk and hope and dreams. Someone had to swirl those thoughts into book form. When the publisher asked me to be the Editor-in-Chief, I gave it careful consideration as I always do when I add a major time commitment to my full schedule. My first thought, as an engineer, is that I’d need a big spreadsheet. My second thought was more wispy: how to heard so many cats.

I have no fear of a challenge and I already very carefully organize my time to maximize my use of every minute I’m lucky to live. And I love new adventures, even as an old woman (well, not that old). I recently learned to play piano, ran a half marathon, baked twenty pies in a year, overcame my fear to cannonball into the lake (I do plug my nose). I’m Grammy to five new humans. I even read the news every day. That’s exciting.

The timeline was short: publication in just six months and our writers were just beginning to write fresh (or revise old) stories. Some had never been published, had never undergone the often gut-wrenching editing process, or faced the feeling of “oh, no, I have to work on this again? I thought we were done.” And some did not even know what Track Changes are. The learning curve would be steep. So, I asked the publisher for clarification of my authority and responsibility, along with the goal of publication. Did they just want a published collection of whatever each writer wanted to submit, or would I have authority to decide what was included and push the editing until each piece met that standard? I was assured I’d have that authority. Knowing the deep and complex writing skills of this group, the beautiful variety of their writing voices, and how much I enjoy working with them in our meetings, I agreed to edit, with the goal of producing a polished diamond of an anthology.

The Heartbeat of Quiet Streets is just that gem I envisioned, but even more beautiful. The pieces produced by our writing team of ten are all so different. There are a few poems sprinkled in among long and short stories of fiction and nonfiction. Our stories can shake your heart in fear and provide the relief of humor. I am so proud of our writers and their unique stories and hope you will give our book a look. It is FREE for five days on Kindle right now until April 25. Free is the best way to taste something new. Share the link and help us get the word out to the world about our collection. And if you love it like I do, the paperback will be available on Amazon in about a week.

goodbye summer, hello semester

Goodbye to time to think, laugh, and read.

Hello to traffic, stress, and email.

Goodbye to piano, walks, and family.

Hello to exams, stairs, and strangers.

Goodbye to quiet.

Hello to rushing, planning, teaching, pending illness, eating at my desk, grading.

Hello to new students excited about learning what I can teach them.

Hello to unlocking curiosity, gently nudging more practice, glorying in students reaching beyond what they expected but what I knew they could do.

Hello to a learning community that helps each other succeed, a place where minds are changed, the place I chose to work before the pandemic shook up all of life.

Hello to potential greatness. If I survive two semesters, I’ll see you next year, summer, where you can bandage all my bruises and get me ready to do it all again.

Life as a backup plan

One thing I’ve learned from decades of teaching is perspectives that emerge from my students will never stop surprising me. At 20 years old, all older adults occupy the audience of the student on the stage, and we all ask the same questions. What are you going to do? This week a student told me of their plans.

When the student finished their story, they added, “But I’ve thought about your job, you know? Teaching something you love…Just, sort of, as a backup plan if I don’t get in to […].”

I nodded, surprised but trying hard to hide it, while an undergrad diagnosed my life as a backup plan.

But it got me thinking about paths unexplored, chances missed, other parallel universes where my life is different, rowdier, exciting, perhaps unequivocally not a backup plan by any measure.

Now, I’m pretty old and I’ve done a lot of things. Many of them I could not have predicted while still in college. I did not know I would run half marathons. Or earn a PhD. Or write novels and children’s books. Or learn to play piano at my half-life. Or bake two dozen pies in a year. Or blog for 80 consecutive Tuesdays about a pandemic that would not end. Or meet with my sisters and mom for an hour online every Saturday. Or coach Odyssey of the Mind. Or drive a boat for water skiers. Or swear like a sailor. Or leave my engineering job to teach impossible organic chemistry to thousands of students. I could not have foreseen any of these backup plans when I was very young.

And I have no idea what backup plans await.

Most students are laser-focused on one single goal. They have stated that goal so often, so loudly, with so much conviction to so many people they feel devastated when they change their minds, either by failing a course or admitting to an alternative passion. We must let them change their minds and expand their futures without feeling guilty or otherwise badly about themselves. The whole point of college is to change one’s mind.

TWL: Finally February to Already April to Mad May

I wake up an hour before my alarm almost every day. Before I even open my eyes to check the clock, I think, “What will happen today?” My brain clicks on and spills ideas like marbles: coffee, shower, it’s raining, gas tank is empty, out of fruit–wait, what? I get to teach today. That’s why I woke up early. I have the most fun job in the world. I teach smart students my favorite subject. I ask them to think and they do. They listen. They come to lecture. Some even put their phones away when I ask. They discuss hard problems. They try and try and try. I am so impressed by them.

Now on the tails side of the teaching coin we have the hidden tiring parts of the job: writing assessments, grading, meeting, proofreading, coordinating, never ever ever resting. (Well, actually the summers are lovely and restful.)

Like my students, I don’t have a five-day work week. Saturdays are work days. Evenings are for working, too. Lately in the evenings I’ve gotten outside to walk for an hour. And lately, on Saturday mornings, I’ve been stealing hours to bake. But every Sunday evening I preview the week, look over lectures, check the labs, answer emails, check the quiz, and get all the ducks lined up to march. The meetings. And grading. And office hours. And deadlines. And planning. And And And. Cramming twelve months of work into nine makes academic life grueling.

Last week I spent every second writing exams. This week I’ll grade them. It’s final exam time. Already. We climbed the mountain of April only to fall off the cliff. This slower-than-cold-maple-syrup semester blew by. It’s an impossible paradox how the days can feel so long while the weeks seem so short. I hope my students are ready. I hope they don’t feel too stressed. I know they can do it. I also know college is hard. And at this point, my biggest contribution is only hope. Like so much of life in a pandemic, it’s out of my hands.

___________________________

Good news: weekly US COVID-19 new infections lowest in seven months.

Bad news: India’s new cases at almost 400,000 per day. They will likely catch the US soon.

This is a GLOBAL pandemic.

TWL: 55 weeks

I added the 55th weekly data point to my spreadsheet today. COVID has controlled us for over a year. This is the first week since November 10 when the US had less than a million new cases of COVID. The number is still huge, but the numbers are coming down. We had about half as many new cases as we had the week ending January 12. We are approaching half a million dead Americans due to COVID as the world has lost 2.25 million. How can I be optimistic in the middle of such a mess?

Vaccinations are happening. My friend complained of a headache after her second dose. For a headache, she found a safe spot. The world still turns and whips around the sun. Students still learn and help each other. We still worry, but let’s hope too. Masks on. Two arms’ lengths apart. Reach out your hand, your friend reaches out her hand, don’t let the fingertips touch and stay that far apart. No hugging or handshakes. Smile those eyes. Nod those heads. Encourage a discouraged student. Keep the coffee coming. We can do this.