I don't want to be in the Zoom where it happens

After a blissful month away from campus, it took only a few hours in the office to remind me of so many things I'd forgotten--and I'm not just talking about the need to regularly water potted plants. My dragon tree survived a month of neglect but it's not particularly happy about it.

I had forgotten how much I appreciate my colleagues, how delightful it can be to bounce ideas off interesting folks in the hallway or on Zoom, but I had also forgotten how much I hate Zoom meetings. Yesterday's meeting was great--a lively discussion among articulate colleagues--but being on Zoom strains my eyes and brain and makes me want to go hide in a dark closet. Others in the meeting shared their frustrations with pandemic pedagogy and started counting up the years until they can retire, at which point it became clear that I was the oldest person in the meeting by a good ten years. It's nice that I can still be on the Zoom where it happens but I had forgotten how much I miss being in a room with people, face-to-face, and I also miss not being the oldest person in the room. I'm not ready to be an eminence grise! (Although my hair is certainly equipped for the task.)

I had forgotten also how lonely it is to eat lunch in my office and how much I miss going to the gym, especially with persistent horrible weather making outdoor exercise very difficult. I had forgotten that I needed to vacuum my office, and it's a good thing our administrative assistant was in the building because who else would have unlocked the door to the supply closet so I could get the vacuum? I can't work when I'm mired in squalor. I had forgotten how much I rely on our administrative assistant, but I'd better appreciate her quickly because she's soon moving to a better job elsewhere. 

And then the emails started up. I had forgotten how annoying it can be as a committee chair to try to get the right people to do the right things at the right time, and I had forgotten how challenging it can be to write diplomatic responses to those who simply can't follow directions. Everyone needs to just put down the eggnog and get the brain back in gear.

I had forgotten some of the small but satisfying tasks that signify a shift to a new semester--emptying out old folders, stashing away last semester's textbooks, clearing space on the credenza for this semester's books, which look so sparkly-new and promising. And then I had forgotten the thousand clicks required to update syllabi, add new required language, post assignments on the course management system and set up the gradebook. After just two days in the office, I feel as if I've fulfilled an entire month's quota of clicking but I'm nowhere near ready for classes to start.

I had forgotten how the academic calendar plays tricks with time, making two days in the office feel weightier than the entire month I spent painting, baking, and celebrating with family. But the good news is that winter break isn't quite over. I don't have to be on campus again until next Monday, so I intend to go back to Jackson and enjoy a few more days of unstructured time before I get swallowed whole by the long, slow slog through the spring semester.