overload

Does someone sitting late at night in her office, wanting desparately to finish an overload of to-do tasks for the day, but taking a minute out to photograph her fantastic teeny bird collection and reflection of self in large window -- does that person appear to be the type that would write a nice and thoughtful post for her blog?

No she does not.




I do want to reflect on one thing. I teach a seminar. Most of what I talk about is pulled and synthesized by me. It does not exist in written form. So I tell them, come to class. You must come to class. It is imperative that you come to class.

And then, because I want some teeth to these statements, I add: you will lose grade points if you miss more than one class.

So of course that invites disease and illness of close relatives and moot court competition conflicts and every other reason invented and realized that leads to that occasional skip.

I tell them -- be grateful! I present materials never before read by man woman or child. You will learn. Come, come students! Listen attentively. Play computer games if you must, but come and listen! You are so fortunate! At a university visited by me last week-end, professors who did not have published materials to work with put together packets that looked like this:


overload

And they come. And they listen. And they play computer games. And I really don't care that they do. As long as they come. Am I a professorial wimp?