The first week of classes has passed in a blur, but time seems to stop every afternoon as I wait out my office hours alone in the cavelike basement with no one stopping by. Five minutes of empty office-hour time seems to take an eternity to pass, while time in class goes by so quickly that I can't squeeze in everything we need to cover. How did time get so unreliable?
The weeks are racing quickly by
but afternoons stretch on
in twiddling thumbs and tedium,
slow-motion--then they're gone.
A thousand years are like a day,
a season like a slumber.
An hour in class just whizzes past,
but minutes like to lumber.
Its ticking sounds consistent, but
my clock is worthless--see,
it cannot show what we all know:
Time's relativity.
That's my week in a nutshell--how about yours? I'd love to see some time-related musings in the comments!
2 comments:
Oh thy time, thy precious time. I teach, I write, I sit and weep. I watch my Friday students sleep. It's precious time ne're to return. Why do the seconds seem to creep? I talk of Chaucer, Poe and Thoreau. Yet blank faces like places they'll never go. Yes, it's time, my precious time. But seems my time is just to whine. To whine, to whine, to whine, to whine forst my precious wine.
Neat! No weeping here so far, but it's early days!
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