Mothball mania; or, why I'd rather stay inside the classroom

Who knows what mothballs smell like, I asked my class, and only one student came up with an answer: They smell like old ladies.

It's hard to imagine that the smell of mothballs would be relevant to a class discussion but even harder to comprehend that 90 percent of my students do not recognize the concept of mothballs. A character in John Henry Days discovers a mothball in the pocket of his suit at a social event and then fears that he's walking around as a marked man, carrying a foul scent into every strained interaction. It's a lovely image, but effective only insofar as readers are familiar with mothballs.

I came out of my classroom yesterday feeling energized and excited: my students had done the reading and had interesting things to say, and I was able to answer their mothball-related questions along with many others. This is why I love my job, I told myself as I walked back to my office, but then I opened up my email inbox and felt the love draining away.

I'm trying to master the new purchasing procedures--honestly, I'm doing my best, but dealing with spreadsheets and online forms is outside my skillset. If you need someone to guide students toward understanding why the ability to create narrative out of chaos, trauma, and debris is compelling evidence of the continuity of human culture, I'm your person--but that doesn't necessarily mean I'll excel at Excel. I'm a word person, not a numbers person. All those little spreadsheet cells feel like prisons for my creativity.

And this week I've also been required to be the bearer of bad news about topics I can't share here. Receiving bad news is difficult enough; I've never enjoyed being told that my hard work will not be rewarded nor my projects supported. But serving as the conduit of bad news is like carrying a mothball in the pocket of your best suit--everything you do starts to stink.

I'm trying not to carry that stink of despair into the classroom. My students deserve better; they're putting in the time and effort to understand difficult readings, and they're doing their best to contribute to a lively learning environment. When I'm with them, I love what I'm doing; I just wish I didn't have to leave the room.