Yesterday, I woke up extraordinarily early to complete readings for my race and ethnicity seminar. I had worked out an hourly schedule that would also allow me to get a run in too before my first class of the day at 11:30. Fortunately, I did not sleep in, even though Monday morning and this morning I did because I am definitely getting a cold. I have been pining for sleep lately because I haven't been so restful. I think a fun weekend takes one toll, which is the semi-casualty of routine -- which is also why fun weekends are such a necessity for time- and task-oriented people! Anyway, I got up really early. I plowed through most of the readings and was able even to take a nap from 10-11:00, which trust me, I sorely needed, the sunshine streaming into my bedroom aside.
At 11:00, my cell phone rings. It's a local number. I decide to let it go. I listen to the voicemail, and it's the professor I work for asking me to cover class, more or less, while she goes to get her daughter who's sick at school. I don't panic; I don't even squirm. I call her right back and say, "Sure, I am comfortable with that" (can you say competency cloak? This moment reminds me of a reading we did in R's class last spring on the life, behaviors, and survival of grad students!). I get my sleepy self together, throwing on a white-and gold-striped loose short-sleeved sweater my mom gave me, and black pants that were hand-me-downs from P. I look teacher-y enough. I feel cooler-looking than my Jack-town teaching days, that's for sure!
I ride my bike onto campus, stop by the professor's office, get the materials, request the paper copy of any article she has. At first she was going to come at the end of class, but since I said I was comfortable, looks like I'll be running the whole duration of the class. She gives me a bullet list of what to do during class. I can do this, I convince myself, as I play it cool and take the materials from her. I was just thinking this morning as I showered how fortunate I was to be assigned to her for my TA/RA assignment this semester-- her focus areas are mine, plus I really admire her as a mentor for the way she balances her life (married with a child, and also very accomplished in the field). Again, I am not stressed, really. That's unusual for me. This is an opportunity to show her my appreciation and be helpful to her.
Class starts at 11:30. It's about 11:20 now as I head over, crossing the bridge outside and making my way to the bottom floor of the library where the classroom is. Have I mentioned, I have not read the three articles to be discussed today?
I get to class. And this vestige of the past comes out! I'm talking loud and clear, asking lots of questions, circulating the room. Students are engaging, responding to me and each other. I send a girl to the board to write our outlines for each article out on the board. The first time I check the time, it's already been 20 minutes into class! It doesn't feel awkward. I don't feel like I am their peer. I don't feel like they are disinterested. These are two things I was concerned I would never adapt to after teaching high schoolers and loving it.
What's my fuel that's making time pass and words come out of my mouth? I rely on my general knowledge of the authors' work and am able to speak about it and point out the most important terms in each. I also have the professor's annotated copies of one of the articles, which includes markings for major points. And, it is no coincidence either that one of these students emailed me Sunday night asking me if we could get together to discuss her essay, which covered the three readings for today. In the course of that meeting, she basically taught me the readings, insisting that we go through point by point in her handwritten notes to make sure she covered each article thoroughly. That's God working right there.
I let class out about 10 minutes early. I feel competent, happy, and re-fueled, really. I don't even notice my getting-sick feeling. I don't feel drowsy. I don't feel stressed. I feel really happy and thankful for this last-minute opportunity, which I would not have chosen for myself if given the option, and which I would have worked up into a ball of anxiety had I known in advance of 30 minutes before class. I am reminded about the part of education I love most: teaching. That is why I am here at Emory. I got a glimpse into my future, and I really like it!
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