I just printed out eleven copies of a handout for my composition class, something I've been doing all semester--even though I haven't had more than seven students in the room on any day since Spring Break. Most days just five or six show up. Why do I keep printing eleven copies when I haven't seen eleven students in the room since early March? That's the triumph of hope over experience.
This morning we met outside, where we could discuss the reading assignment without melting into a massive puddle of sweat. Cold temperatures last week followed by a very hot weekend moved the entire building into Meltdown Mode. I opened every window but we were too hot to think straight so we moved the class outdoors. I could not do that with my American Lit class because I needed to use the projector, which only made the room feel hotter.
An hour from now that same room will be crammed full of sweaty students, five of whom will be extra-sweaty because they're giving presentations. I wouldn't want to be in their shoes in a building this hot. Frankly, I don't really want to be in my shoes either. I already feel like a sweat-bomb after teaching one class in that room, and I've got two more classes to come, both of which feature student presentations that can't be done outside.
And so we will suffer together, sharing a vivid reminder that the life of the mind cannot be conducted without the cooperation of the body. (Just don't sit too close because we're all gonna stink.)
No comments:
Post a Comment