Life in Boxes: Grading still to do

I've finally done it. I've had the busy grad school semester so many of my friends have bemoaned. During my first grad program, I faithfully took two courses a semester for two years. Even though I worked full time then, too, the workload never got to me; I finished without breaking a sweat. The degree was no cakewalk, but I was only truly time-stretched during the thesis completion semester, but that, too, was manageable.

As I did last semester, I took three classes this term. I continued to work 40 hours a week. And I taught one section of composition that met twice a week. That was the tipping point. Teaching is arguably the most fulfilling thing I've ever done, but in the context of my life as a student and office wonk, I felt filleted. Not to put too fine a point on it, but I have almost no short-term memory. At least I've gotten past my 10-day, lowgrade stomach ache. No nausea or suppression of appetite. Just an ambient pain.

It doesn't help that I'm moving--that by this time next week--I will have already moved. The packing is fairly far along. It's something of a miracle that I can say that; two weeks ago I wasn't quite sure I could see my way to assembling and filling a single box.

You have to understand. Usually when I move, there's a spreadsheet called the Moving Schematic that details by week and date when certain milestone activities should occur (e.g., call magazine subscription services to have address formally changed).

It's been a bit willy nilly this time around, but somehow I'm crossing items off the list of To Dos that exists only in my mind.

How wonderful would it be if by this time next week, I had also fully wrapped up all my grading and my own homework? Not to be. Grades aren't due until the 21st, and one of my own homework assignments isn't due until May 17th. That means I'll be taking grading and writing into my first two weeks at the new place. No clean slates till later in the month.

But. . . but. . . my students. I am always going to remember these 19. I am always going to remember how much they grew as writers, how brilliant they all were, how hard they tried, and how much they made me laugh. What I wished most of all is that I had had more time to give them.