While standing in front of my 8:00 composition class this morning, I had an evil thought: four more classes and we're through.
Only four more class periods in which to look at your faces and watch as you try to keep your eyelids from falling shut.
Only four more chances to watch in wonder as you stand up and walk out of the room in the middle of class and then wander back in 20 minutes later without explanation.
Only four more times to drag you kicking and screaming through exercises designed to make you better writers, and only four more chances to read the uneven results.
Only four more opportunities for you to ask questions that have been asked and answered in great detail over and over since the first day of class, and only four more opportunities for me to bite my tongue and control my sarcasm.
Only four more classes and we're through. I don't know about you, but I intend to celebrate.