No More Playing it Off

It probably happened last year sometime, when I was forced to trade in the Hawaiian shirts and Birkenstocks for more traditional teaching garb--the switch from teaching assistant to full-time faculty, even Instructor level, can be painful--but walking around campus today, it became absolutely clear that I can no longer pass for a student. After the fifth wide-eyed freshman (freshperson?) asked me for directions to one building or another, I began to wonder if I had gained so much weight that I looked like an information kiosk. (Kidding--I have, if anything, managed to stay at about the same level of fat for the last five years. Never much more than 250, never much less than 240.)

It's a good thing, though. I never have to worry about command of the classroom, and that's a big problem for younger teachers. Of course, I've probably just jinxed myself by typing those words--I've guaranteed myself a class from hell, filled with 45 year old business majors who are mad at the world and 19 year old truancy school rejects who are in my class because it works nicely with their night job of drug trafficking and internet porn shoots.

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