Skip to main content

Speed

The week has gone by swiftly. I don't believe there were many ad hoc things on my calendar, but it does feel a bit like a blur.

This is part of my job and my lifestyle, at least during the academic year. I put a lot of thought and effort into my classes and so my time at work is pretty nonstop. I believe that I am better about being present with my family (mostly my wife now that we are empty-nesters) than I have been in past years, which means that overall I have less time for introspection, for contemplation.

I have the summers to balance the rhythm out, and to a certain extent when I don't teach during our January term also a long mid-year break as well. There are more strenuous jobs and I have no complaints.

I am someone who is an introvert and does value having time to hear my thoughts. I've made my bargains with the world around me that those moments of reflection are sporadic. Time stands still in them, almost perversely given the speed of the rest of my life.

I miss the speed when I am too long without it, though. I am a triage junkie. I remember hearing someone say once that any idiot can be noble in a crisis, it's getting through the day-to-day minutia that would try a saint. So I seek out crises or at least moments of pressure and pat myself on the back for navigating them.

I contain multitudes, as do we all. I realize this more with each passing day.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Betrayal

I caught a student cheating on a final exam this morning. I had a line of sight on them and watched for ten minutes as they took their cellphone out of their pocket, kept it below their table, typed into it, read it, put it away, then wrote on the exam, repeating this cycle over and over again.  I was a bit surprised as the exam was open notes but this student had not attended many of our classes, just stopping by for exams, and I conjecture that they had no notes to open. I confronted the student who admitted that they had done wrong in an inarticulate non-confessional way. By the afternoon they had signed off on the honor code violation report to avoid further investigation and possible sanctions beyond failing the exam.  Is anger the right emotion to feel now? I had a working relationship with the student, although they had not contributed much to it. They had deceived me in order to gain unwarranted advantage over their peers in the class and that is not right. I don't wan...

Standing Your Corner

I'm a long-term David Simon fan ever since I read his book "Homicide", detailing a year-long embedding with Baltimore homicide detectives. It was clear-eyed about all of the strengths and weaknesses, good reflexes and prejudices of everyone that he met.  I enjoyed the television show that followed that he wrote for, and then of course "The Wire" on HBO and a number of his other shows---only limited by my access to streaming services.  There was a histrionic moment in a later season of "Homicide" where he just let a character vent; a homicide detective who was part-owner of a bar frequented by cops watched a particularly violent drug criminal, responsible for many unsolved homicides, come into his bar with his associates, violating the detective's territory. The detective came around the bar holding a billy club in his hand and loudly discussed his first year as a patrol officer walking a beat. His supervising officer told him that he had a corner a...

Momentum

In my youth my primary social justice commitment was through Amnesty International. As an affluent white male I enjoyed freedoms that I thought ideally everyone should share; in the 1980's we had had the vine of United States support for repressive regimes that were nominally anti-Communist bearing cruel fruit and I in my small part of the world wanted to do something about that.  It was a more active support Amnesty International sought back then; nowadays they just ask me for money. We members were encouraged to write to foreign government officials to urge them to take care of political prisoners that we named, the idea being that as long as they knew that they were seen the cruelty would diminish. One letter per prisoner, because they were all human beings, not just a faceless group. I have no independent way of verifying if the hundreds of letters I wrote eased any suffering; I know that they changed me. Selfishly I am grateful. At the time I made a point of reading journalism...