I am in the comp office. I love the comp office. I actually also love comp. Part of the problem is that I love comp.
My nonfiction workshop got canceled due to low enrollment, so now I’m staring down a brand-new course prep, along with helping out on Comp Camp, getting my reading lists together, and staying on top of Dr. Michaels’s expectations. I suddenly feel overwhelmed.
Because I love comp, I want to not suck at teaching it, and my 160 syllabus from 555 is unteachable. What I need is my colleague Kevin’s syllabus, and then I need to wrangle that to suit my own style and theme, but I cannot and will not teach a syllabus that I thought was flawed TWO YEARS ago. But a 160 syllabus is hours of labor, and I do not have enough time to prep given that I don’t even get back from Clarion until Sunday. Kill me.
Oh well. This is probably good for me; I’ve actually been wanting to build a multigenre project-based 160 syllabus for awhile now, and this will force me to do it sooner rather than later. I wish I didn’t feel so under the gun what with exams and all (and losing 6 weeks to Clarion helped nothing), but…yeah. It’ll all get done. It’ll all get done. <-mantra
But these poor, sad, beautiful Clarion stories are going to be languishing until seven months from now before I get to return to them, which breaks me. They deserve a better author. And so much for Rhin and my novel. I am bereft.