Back to the Land of Mind-Boggling Excuses

Tangent:  Before I begin, I'd just like to point out that from my second-story home office I can see the firefighters a block away practicing their golf swings prior to 8 a.m.  It's the little things that get me.

Today is the first day of school for the community college where I teach English Composition I on Tuesday nights.  This will be my third semester teaching there.  I currently have 20 students.  On average, I lose about six per semester.  I usually like to go in, guns blazing, and smother them with paper on the first day. This effectively weeds out about two people.   Then I explain the grading rubric.  The use of the word "rubric" weeds out another two.  You can see it in their eyes:

Student 1:  "Dude, she said 'rubric.'"

Student 2:  "What the hell does that mean?'

Student 1:  "I have NO idea, but it sounds hard."

Student 2:  "I thought we were just going to journal.  I have so many thoughts to share."

Student 1:  "If we leave now, we can still catch the Fear Factor rerun."

Student 2:  "Meet you outside at the break."

Student 1:  "You mean, at the RUBRIC."

Student 2:  "Ha, yeah."

Last semester, if you recall, my favorite excuse for why someone couldn't be there for a test was their fiance's surprise, extended hospital visit for which there was no paper trail.  Inevitably, every single semester I have also seen a dead grandmother or aunt, usually one who lives far, far away.  There is never any mention of attending the funeral, just the need to mourn, at home, far from class. And maybe with an extension on Essay 4. 

Tonight, I will look out on my twenty shining young faces and try to guess which ones will leave, which ones will lose grandmothers and which ones will turn in an essay good enough to surprise me.  I don't know why I am still drawn to school after attending it myself through high school, college, then some more college.  There's something about the cyclical nature of it, the chance to renew yourself every four months, the release of being done for a month at the end of the semester.  It might have something to do with my fascination with paper products, especially NEW paper products. I love writing utensils.  I ADORE white boards.  And now, on the opposite side of the lecturn, I have the opportunity to spout off on my favorite subject while fourteen or fifteen young (and sometimes older than me) people have to sit and listen for three hours.  I admit, this is a total ego boost.  It's also entertaining on the scale of the Surreal Life when they start fighting amongst themselves about grammar rules or the point of "The Tell-Tale Heart."

Ah, yes.  Adjunct teaching:  the pay is bad, the benefits are non-existant, the hours are weird, but there's a whole underground of us who just keep on coming back for more every fall and spring.

I think the firefighter just hit a birdy.  A real one.