Back to School, Back to Hiroshima

Yesterday was a delightful day.  Today will be delightful too, although it's a full day on campus, so it will be a different kind of delightful.  And I've been awake since 2, so I do worry about how tired I'll be by late afternoon.

My brain started churning at 2, churning with all sorts of worries and plans.  I need to sit down with a calendar and old syllabi and make some loose plans--or maybe weekly plans--at least that's what my brain was telling me when I couldn't go back to sleep.  My brain also jumped ahead to spring, and how I might teach the Intro to Lit class, and it's much too early to be plotting those classes.

Have I done the syllabus planning for this semester, since I was awake?  No, of course not.  I did some reading and ate some cranberry orange bread.  I did some fretting about muscle loss:  not my own, but my friend who had the catastrophic stroke a few years ago, and has lost so much muscle mass that she can't sit in the wheelchair very long.  I've wondered about other people in my life who aren't getting much exercise--but certainly more than my mostly bed-bound friend.

I am remembering 2 years ago, heading down to campus for a day that would have been even fuller, with a dinner for new faculty at the end.  I remember going to orientation sessions for new faculty and wondering how much would apply to me as a person with a one year position.  And I remember feeling so jealous of people who had the luxury of more permanence.

And now I am one of those people.

Of course, today is one of those days in history that reminds me that permanence is an illusion. Today is the day when the first atomic bomb used in warfare was detonated at Hiroshima, thus launching us into this brave new world where we find ourselves.  I think of those people headed to work when the bomb detonated, those burned into the concrete, and those further away, who would spend the rest of their lives being a walking specimen of what overexposure to radiation does to a human body before they died early.

The bombs used to destroy Hiroshima and Nagasaki were small by today's standards--but what damage they did! The effects of that bomb obliterated much of Hiroshima--and vaporized some of it. There were reports of people fused into pavement and glass--or just vanished, with a trace remaining at the pavement. The reports of the survivors who walked miles in search of help or water are grim. And many of those survivors would die of the effects of radiation in the coming years.

Through the years, I've seen many a documentary about the rush to build nuclear weapons, about the uncertainty of what would happen with those first tests and explosions--would the very atmosphere around the planet dissolve? I have yet to see any footage of scientists who wondered what might happen to civilians on the ground when these bombs exploded.

I've lived long enough to see history being made to know that the choices can be fairly ghastly. In this case, far better to develop the weapons before the Germans. I know many people who believe that the use of these bombs helped avoid more years of grueling battles in the Pacific that would have left us with even more dead--one could argue that the sacrifice of the populations at Hiroshima and Nagasaki were worth the avoidance of more years of war and that loss of life.

I've also done enough reading and thinking about pacifist approaches to wonder if there might not have been another way if we had acted much earlier.

I remember during our grad school years we went to a beautiful anti-nuclear vigil on August 6 in a city park.  I remember paper cranes and seeing some of our grad school professors there.  That would have been in 1988 or 1989.  I wonder if any groups mount anti-nuclear vigils in August anymore?

It's not that the world is any more of a peaceful place these days.  In fact, in recent years, it feels like we're sliding back to a world that's much more dangerous.  Sadly, the world still needs the blessings of the origami cranes.  They're not as easy to fold as they look--that, too, makes them an appropriate metaphor.  But they are worth the effort--and peace is worth the effort too.

Delights Planned for the Last Day of Summer and an A for Paul Class

In many ways, today is my last day of summer 2026.  A year ago, I'd have been going to CPE early and then driving to Williamsburg to help my parents recover from my mom's near death pneumonia hospitalization--I am so grateful that this summer's end is more mundane.

Our transition to the school year is a gentle one.  Tomorrow we have a very full day of teacher training and meetings.  On Friday and Monday, we have one meeting per day.  I'd prefer to have both on one day and the other day free for syllabus prep, but I'm fine with the schedule.  Having more time off is a game changer--in my younger days at community colleges, I'd have been irritable at being expected to do any of this at all.  

Of course, in my younger days, I spent much more time being irked.  Now I am older and wiser and more laid back and a better shepherd of my energy, meaning I ask more questions about situations and whether or not my irritability/anger is worth the energy and time.

On this last day of summer, I'll fill my day with delights:  a morning visit with a neighborhood friend doing creative work together in her studio and an afternoon with the LWR quilting group at the local Lutheran church.  I'll do some reading and some writing.  For one day, today I won't do any teaching work:  I turned in final grades for my online classes last night, and I still have time to create syllabi before classes start on Tuesday.

But I'm just remembering that I need to put an announcement in my onground class course shells that gives a welcome and says that more information is coming soon.  Since the shells open tomorrow, I'll do that cut and paste work today.

I'm happy that my work-for-pay still leaves me with time to see friends and do creative work of all types, along with writing and reading.  I'm grateful that my teaching life doesn't consume all my free time.  I know I say this a lot, but it's worth remembering and retreating.

It seems fitting that on one of the last evenings of summer, last night I got my grades for my summer TEEM class on Paul:  an A on each of the two papers, and an A for the class.  My teacher gave thoughtful commentary that made me feel seen and heard and understood.

I mention my reaction because last night I also got my supervisor feedback for the summer online class that I taught for SMC.  Overall, it was positive, although there is room for improvement:  more personalized feedback and more depth of feedback.  My first thought was that using names of students in grading feedback (a suggestion) would take too much time.  But it really won't take that much more time and maybe it would help students stay engaged.

I'm grateful for my return to school in late middle life for many reasons, but it's been revelatory to remember what it's like to be a student.  I used to think that A level papers don't really need much instructor feedback, but as an A student, I would feel cheated if my papers got the kinds of A level feedback that I give as a teacher.  Maybe that's too strong; I'm remembering all the times I got minimal feedback on A level papers and didn't feel cheated.  But every time I get more involved feedback, I'm grateful.  And A level students are more likely to have the time and mental space to care in a way that isn't possible for students who can't care as much because their lives are falling apart.

Late Summer in One Picture

This picture captures certain elements of the last half of summer:

I'm thrilled that so many people are so engaged with The Odyssey.  I won't go to the movie, probably, for many reasons, but I'm glad people are going.  Maybe in a future year, we can get the story of Penelope or maybe Mary Magdalene, women left behind.

We haven't had that many days of low humidity and lower heat, so this picture captures a perfect summer day, which I decided to make a drinking day, also not a regular event for me this summer.

It's been such a good tomato summer that I wanted fresh basil.  It was easier to buy a drooping basil plant than to trust the produce section.  My spouse pointed out that the pot contained 3 plants, and we repotted them.  Seeing them perk up has made me inordinately happy.

Today I am taking advantage of the last days of summer to go see grad school friends in Columbia, SC.  Hard to believe it's been almost 40 years since I was starting grad school there, back in August of 1987.

No Sealey Challenge for Me--But a Different Daily Poetry Challenge?

For one brief moment yesterday morning, I thought about doing the Sealey Challenge:  reading 1 volume of poetry each day in August.  I've only done it once in the past, so yesterday morning, I went back and read the blog posts that I wrote in 2020; this post talks about the overall experience, and this one talks about photos I used when making my Facebook posts.  Some people have posted their daily experiences on Instagram, but I'm not on Instagram.  Did I post on Twitter in 2020?  I was on Twitter, so probably.

I even went so far as to gather all the single volumes of poetry that I have on my bookshelves here at the house (I have even more in boxes and a few volumes at my office on campus).  But by afternoon, I decided not to do it.

I was able to do it in 2020 because my work life was so different.  I was in an office every day for 8-ish hours a day, but I had long patches of time during the day when I didn't have tasks to do.  At that point, we thought it was likely that the campus would close at some point in the next year, so my main work job was to keep it going, in a hospice kind of way, keeping everyone comfortable, but not starting new initiatives.

It was 2020, early-ish in the Covid time, no vaccines, and trying to stay distanced.  So I had fewer people coming to my office to complain or to strategize or to fight off boredom by gossiping or rage baiting.  In short, I had a lot of free time, even though I had to spend it in an office.

During those no-task times in 2020, I was able to read a book straight through.  My work life is about to get a lot more complicated, with commuting and going to class and one set of online classes coming to an end and another set beginning.

But yesterday's thinking about the Sealey Challenge did remind me that I want to start reading more poetry again.  I want to carry a volume of poetry with me throughout my teaching day.  I want to model the behavior of reading in the moments of down time that come with every class.

And that has made me think of something else--maybe I want to project a poem onto the board at the start of each class--a different type of daily poetry challenge!  Maybe I want poems each day that encourage students.  Hmmm.  Let me think about this. 

The Hinge Festival of Lammas

 Early August is a hinge point in the calendar. In some ways, it's not as obvious a hinge as the autumnal equinox or the summer solstice; in fact, it's the time directly between those two hinges--we're as far away from the start of summer as we are from the start of autumn. But in some ways, it's just as significant a point of seasonal shift.

If we lived in medieval England, we would be celebrating the festival of Lammas, a festival that celebrates first harvests with loaves of bread standing in for that first harvest.  There might be processions to bakeries, to bless them and to bless the bakers.  

It would be a festival that celebrates abundance, the abundance that comes later in a cooler climate.  Of course, we here in Appalachia are celebrating that abundance too; the summer vegetables are still going strong with beautiful tomatoes at the farmer's market.  Yet across the region, apple orchards are opening today.

We may have slogged through summer long enough that we may feel that nothing will ever change--it will be hot and humid forever. The light hasn't changed significantly, the way it will in a month or two. But we are losing more daylight each day as we hurtle towards a different season. Students aren't in school yet, but the time draws closer. Most of us aren't agricultural people anymore, but if we were, we'd be seeing crops in their final ripening. Harvest would be coming soon.

Now is a good time to take an accounting. Have we been planning some summer festivities that we haven't gotten to do yet? Now is the time. Do we need to adjust our trajectories for the rest of the year? Let us make some plans.

Moving to the Tenure Track

A week from now, I'll be beginning the next chapter of my teaching life.  In some ways, it won't be that different from what I've already done.  It's not the drastic change that I experienced going from teaching to administration.  A week from now, I'm back on campus as an Associate Professor on the tenure track, not as an adjunct, not as a year-to-year lecturer.

My teaching load will be lighter:  4 classes instead of 5.  My service load will be heavier, as I didn't have to do committee work in my previous incarnations at Spartanburg Methodist College.  I will keep an eye on tenure requirements which are not onerous.

When I was in grad school, I wanted a job like the kind I have now, as a faculty member at a small, liberal arts college, the type of undergraduate school where I earned my BA degree.  Almost all of my fellow grad students who weren't on the Creative Writing track wanted that.  One of our Victorian Lit professors sneered at us for wanting "a unicorn" of a job.

I assumed I wouldn't be able to get tenure at a state university.  I worried about my ability to get my academic writing published.  I wanted to teach at a place where my creative writing would be a way to tenure, and now I am.  Service to the school and community will also count towards tenure.  I've been impressed with the way that SMU allows faculty to be their whole selves.

And yes, I would expect that at a liberal arts college, but I know it's not always that way.

In fact, I am a bit worried about what happens if leadership leaves.  I've worked with enough presidents of schools to know that the leadership at the top does make a difference.

But those are worries for a different day, a day which might not arrive at all.  SMC's president is my age, and he says he's planning to retire when he leaves, so he may be here at least another 5 years or more.  I suspect that our provost is in a similar position, and my dean, too, seems unlikely to leave.

I am coming onto the tenure track as an Associate Professor, a job title that I've never had.  I am happy that my years of experience are being recognized in this way.  I remember years ago showing a job posting to a friend who is 13 years older than I am, and she said, "I'm a little old to be starting as an Assistant Professor on a tenure track."  She likely would have felt the same if it was an Associate Professor position.

When we had that conversation, she was younger than I am now.  I'm happy to be an Associate Professor, but I'd have accepted the job if it had been an Assistant Professor tenure track.  I'm relieved to have the certainty of a job with a salary and benefits that I can count on for more than a year.

Adventures in Reading Outside of the House

I began the day, the outside of the house part of the day, at the dentist's office yesterday morning for an 8 a.m. appointment.  I brought a book, Francine Prose's Five Weeks in the Country.  By the end of the visit, after 29 pages, I decided that I was already dreading having to finish the book--the grown up characters in the book are SO odious.  I reminded myself--you don't have to read any further.  And so, back to the library it goes!

I ended the day, the outside of the house part of the day, at the dermatologist's office to get a basal cell skin cancer removed.  I arrived late in the afternoon, and it wasn't a surprise that they were running a bit late.  Happily, I had a book, Margaret Atwood's The Penelopiad.  

What a delightful book!  How did I miss its publication back in 2005?

Well, a lot was going on in my life in 2005, much of it difficult (hurricanes, house damage, mother-in-law's broken hip and death by medical industrial complex). 

I was glad to have that book with me, because the appointment took longer than it might have earlier in the day.  Even more, I was glad it was a compelling book, a book I would have enjoyed, even if I hadn't been stuck with it, in the unique way that one is stuck in a doctor's office.  It's a short book, and I read about half of it during the time of waiting.

For the past several years, I've tried to get back in the habit of carrying a book with me everywhere, especially to health care appointments, where I know there will be some waiting time--far better to read a book than to read my phone.