Not so much overwhelmed as just plain whelmed

Overheard in the hallway: "I just found out I'm failing the first-year seminar. I didn't know the class had assignments."

I feel for the dude, I really do. Three weeks into the semester and somehow he's been so overwhelmed that he read right past the due dates on the syllabus, never noticed that other students seemed to have stuff to turn in when he'd come empty-handed. Good thing it's early enough in the semester to allow him to catch up.

I've been a little overwhelmed myself, though now I wonder whether I'm really just whelmed, from an Old English root meaning overturned or upside-down. Covid knocked me for a loop, but on Wednesday I was able to return to teaching unhampered by the need to Zoom, the first time since the first day of class that I haven't had at least one student per class in quarantine. Today, though, I've just received a notice about a quarantining student, and I know of at least six students in my 2:00 class who will be missing because of sports-related travel. That's one-third of the class. The rest of us will just have to carry on without them.

I keep telling people that I've fully recovered from Covid, but ragweed pollen is still harassing my sinuses and I have to fight sleep every evening starting around 7 p.m. Tonight I'm supposed to go see Much Ado about Nothing down by the river starting at 8 p.m., right in the middle of peak head-drooping time. I fear falling asleep in the middle of the show and tumbling to the ground tangled in my folding lawn chair.

That kind of spectacle might be entertaining for the rest of the audience, but for me, the experience would be truly whelming.