Pet-Peeves of a Blind Person, or: I leave comments upon comments about the things you should think twice, or six times, before you do them to a blind person

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A friend shared this on Facebook, and it hit everything so unbelievably spot-on that I had to post it here.  The last few posts, sparse as they’ve been, have largely focussed on that silly teaching thing.  So this seemed like an appropriate time to pay a little attention to the “in the dark” part of the blog.  They’re not separate, but it’s midnight or later and I don’t care to enter into that philosophical discussion right now.  And it’s my blog.  So there.

 

Now that I’m done being five years old, here’s the post.  These were written by someone who teaches blind and visually impaired children.  Milage may vary a little on all of these of course, but over all, pretty much every blind person I know has dealt with over half of these and found them really bloody obnoxious.  So read, learn, and don’t forget to laugh.  They are a funny writer, and it’s okay.  You have my permission to be amused.

 

I’ve put a * by the comments that are mine.  I am aware that the formatting for this has probably been shot to hell.  It’s been copied and plain-texted and everything else about five times, so just stick with it and try to enjoy it anyway.

 

Pet Peeves of the Blind and Visually Impaired

 

1. The Guessing Game. “Hey [insert name here]! Do you know who I am?” Oh, please don’t do this. I’ve seen adults do this with students (a lot) and frankly, it’s just rude. Don’t put that person in a position to be embarrassed just in case they don’t remember. Yes, they will recognize familiar voices, and you may know they recognize you, but please resist the temptation to prove it to others by quizzing them. Don’t you think you’d feel a little stressed if you thought you’d be tested about people every time you went out? Be considerate and identify yourself!

 

*I cannot express in words my levels of hatred for this game. You can be my own mother, and if you walk up behind me and make me guess who you are, I will instantly forget every single association we have ever had. An extra level of fun people like to add to this is changing their voice when they ask the question. There is a special place in hell for anyone who does this. It makes my INFP self want to wither and die, and I will forever hold a grudge against you and your descendants.

 

2. Being afraid of the “S” word. Someone can be talking to a blind or partially sighted person and say something like, “Let’s go see what’s for lunch.” Then they gasp and think, oh no, I shouldn’t have said “see”! Lighten up. Everyone uses “see” and “look” and “watch out!” Even the blind or visually impaired person.

 

*I will mock you, mercilessly. Usually I try to be understanding, and assume people have just not learned how to use their brains or common sense yet. But if you ask me to go listen to a movie, I will laugh in your face.

 

3. I’m blind, not deaf. HELLO, HOW ARE YOU?? Which goes along with one of my own pet peeves: “You teach blind kids? So you must know sign language?” Um, NO. I know braille. I wish I had a dime for every time someone asked me that – to include administrators during an interview. Sometimes they “get it”, but sometimes they don’t, but that’s okay because I’ve just deducted 5 IQ points from them. 🙂 And, for the record, I have taken sign language classes, but since I don’t have any deaf-blind students, I have long forgotten it. I wonder if teachers of the hearing impaired get asked if they know braille…

 

*This has, thankfully, actually never happened to me. I don’t think I would have a good response, except maybe to wiggle the white cane at them. People do try to give me the close-captioning box thingy at movie theaters though.

 

4. Blind people can hear everything. The flip side of #3, people assume the visually impaired have so much better hearing than the rest of us. No, but they do rely on it much more, so they are probably listening and paying attention better. Not necessarily paying attention to the teacher, though. They also don’t have visual “distractors” so to speak, so they can focus more on what they hear. Unless they don’t want to hear it, of course. They are human, after all.

 

*I tell my students I am Dare-Devil, and leave it at that. I find it works better to instill respect through fear if they’re wondering if I can hear their inner thoughts, and don’t care to disabuse them of the notion that I can hear the clicking of their touch-screens.

 

5. “I don’t really believe he’s blind, even with that white cane. I’m not moving from this side of the hallway.” That attitude will leave you sprawled out on the floor when the person barrels into you. Here’s a good rule: Don’t play chicken with a blind person. You will always lose. Instead, get out of the way, or at least make yourself known by saying something or making a noise.

 

*All it takes is a cough or a shift or a rustle. I am an introvert; trust me, I understand the deer-in-the-headlights thing that happens when anyone is approaching you down a hall at speed. I am guilty of just stopping and staring in silent horror as someone comes crashing down upon me. But please, if you can at least make some sort of alerting squeak, you will save us both a lot of embarrassment and lengthy apologies.

 

6. Holding out your hand to shake theirs without touching their hand. If that person cannot see your hand, how is he/she supposed to know where your hand is? Answer: They will often extend their hand in anticipation, but if not, tell them you would like to shake their hand and then reach out and take their hand. Same thing goes for handing them something. You would be amazed how many times this happens. “Here’s your homework” and then you hold it out in space. Or, even better, don’t say anything at all and hold it out. Again, exactly how is he/she going to know where it is? Grope about for it? Sometimes groping is okay, like for finding a dropped item. But when handing things to the visually impaired, please touch their hand with it so they know where it is.

 

*Happens to me most often with credit cards at restaurants. People at counters will just hold my card in the void. This would be fine, except I am also holding my hand out to receive the card. This sort of stand-off has lasted for far longer than it should ever be allowed to. I have a wonderful friend who will give them about 30 seconds before she will just yank the card out of their hand and put it in mine. Translation: you are an idiot and I am going to help you out while I wonder if you can feed yourself.
…I very specifically try to avoid 99% of opportunities for my students to hand me things. We are all happier this way.

 

7. Low expectations. This includes: the “pity” person (Oh, you poor blind child. You must have a terrible life.), the “know-it-all” (Dr. so-and-so can work miracles. I know because my grandmother/nephew/dog has 20-20 now.), “Mr. Helper” (Let me do that, I know it’s too hard for you.), the “excuse-maker” (I don’t want him/her to learn how to make a [insert food here] because they might cut/burn/make a mess. You can’t go on that field trip because there might be a terrorist attack and I would worry.), the “denial/embarrassed person” (Don’t use your cane at the store so people won’t know you’re blind.), and unfortunately, the list goes on and on. Low expectation is probably the worst thing one person can do to another, regardless of abilities. If you aim for low performance, that’s likely what you’ll get. Don’t be an enabler. Being too over-protective will dramatically hinder their progress toward independence and living a happy, social, productive life. Step back. Allow them to fail, get a minor injury, and make their own mistakes. That’s how we all learn. Don’t forbid them these opportunities.

 

*…there are too many instances of this for me to count or describe. Just never do this; you are actually smothering the life out of someone. This has, however, translated into my teaching, as I have actually had students write “for a blind person, she is a great teacher,” or “I know she is blind, and I admire her for that, but…” in their evaluations. It is patronizing as hell, and usually has nothing to do with the “but”. They just have a built-in need to give me cudos or something. Either that, or they’re worried that some organization will throw them in prison for being mean to me.

 

8. Would you like to feel my face? Whoa. Do you ask sighted people if they’d like to feel your face? First of all, a blind person is not going to get a lot of information from feeling a face, other than maybe the shape of your nose. There are times when it is appropriate, such as when learning parts of the body. But if you are not immediate family, allowing a blind or partially sighted person to “feel” you is very inappropriate. And there are some who will attempt to do just that because they know many people aren’t sure about that protocol. Their hand needs to stay in a handshake, and not move up your arm, and certainly nowhere else! If you wouldn’t let a sighted person feel you, don’t let a blind one. I’ve answered this question a lot from sighted people who have felt awkward allowing this to happen. Well, they feel awkward for a reason! It’s not socially acceptable! Feeling your hair, or the lack of it, can be appropriate depending on the circumstances. I’ve also had this question from a parent: How will my son know what a particular girl looks like? Answer: His friends will tell him!!! Oh yes, they will. 😉

 

*…never ask me this. Seriously, never. I will explode from embarrassment. Honestly, unless someone is sculpting a marble bust to preserve your image for the sake of posterity, I can’t really think of a situation in which this question *isn’t* awkward. I’m sure there are exceptions, but unless you are very very very sure, please assume, for everyone involved, that your situation is not one of those exceptions. And if you don’t ask me to touch your face, I in turn promise that I will not grope your arm. This reverse is also seriously weird, and if anyone, sighted or blind, starts groping you without permission, please please gently disabuse them of the notion that that is okay very quickly.

 

9. Rudeness. It’s usually just ignorance, but don’t assume that any blind or visually impaired person automatically needs help. Grabbing the person’s arm and pulling them along is wrong on several levels. We know you’re probably just trying to be nice, but don’t. First, always ask the person if they would like some assistance. Then, use the sighted guide technique correctly. Offer your arm and let them hold it, usually right above the elbow. Also, if there are several others with the person, speak directly to him/her, not through an “interpreter”, as if the person is not there. Say his name, so he knows you are talking to him.

 

*I feel like my mockery of the people in the faculty lounge pretty much sums this up. Most of the time, I know you have the best of intentions. But before you do these things, do what the little children are taught to do, and consider if you would want someone to do it to you. And not an imagined blind and “feeble” version of you, but the you that is standing there debating whether you should man-handle or rudely ignore a stranger to ask their “friend”.

 

10. Pure meanness. Placing obstacles in the blind or visually impaired person’s path, throwing things at them, rearranging furniture, moving or taking their belongings, calling them names, taking them to the wrong place and leaving them. Yes, it is mean – and it happens all too often. There will always be Sith among us, but educating ourselves and our children about disabilities may help reduce the bias, discrimination and ignorance.

 

*This happens less now that the hell of middle school is over, but, surprisingly, sometimes it still does happen. Usually it’s semi-close friends, who know that I love making blind jokes and who think it’s funny to join in the game. And sometimes it is. My best friend’s family will occasionally move their kitchen stool into my path, because I am magnetically drawn to the stupid thing and will trip over it no matter where it is. So eventually they just started moving it around to screw with me. But instances of this being funny are rare—this one is only funny because there is a decade plus of history behind it. But normally… I do not like to trip over crap or lose my stuff. Here is a good test: if the result of your “joke” will end with the person making an ass of themselves, or will injure or embarrass them, it’s probably a bad idea. I love making blind jokes, and I don’t mind other people doing it too. But if the result of the joke is that I look like a stereotypical “blind” person embodying all the worst stereotypes, or have made a fool of myself, I’m not going to find it funny. Would falling over a coffee table be fun for you? No? Then assume I’m not going to love it either.

 

Hopefully this has been enlightening. The long and short of it is: don’t be dumb. Treat people like people. You don’t need to be scared of us, but do please try to use your common sense. I have failed to do this in plenty of situations and regretted it for years and years and years (remember INFP?), so I feel your pain. But save everybody some anxiety dreams and just try to chill out and use your brain. The whole world will love you for it.

 

Here is a link to this lovely teacher’s page, where the actual genius was originally posted. I thank them for putting this up so I can make excessive commentary on things that are already wonderfully said.

http://mycheesegrits.hubpages.com/hub/Pet-Peeves-of-the-Blind-and-Visually-Impaired

Catch-up

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…should I even bother apologizing?  At this point, I don’t think so.

Okay, it was a weird semester.  That senior-itus I mentioned before hit with a vengeance, and I’m still working on feeling like a productive member of society.  I predict bad teacher reviews this semester, but I’m trying to take my lumps, hoping someone learned something, and will call this my low point, and things will get better from here.  Right? Right?

 

So what does that have to do with this blog?  Nothing, really.  But if I’m neglecting to give my students the proper attention, what made you guys think you had a prayer?  But I’m going to try to turn this into a weekly thing, since I apparently really need a schedule.  So I’ll try to post every week, to bestow upon you such wisdom as comes to me when I am strolling down the hall, feeling academic, and thinking “hmmm, I should bestow this on my blog.”

 

*Works on developing academic ego*.

 

I will share one of these wise thoughts, which came to me after I left my purse in someone’s car this morning:

 

Students, pay close attention to the garments of your adjunct.  If she always dresses like a bum, she is either very comfortable, or she does not care.  If she has been at the university for less than a year, she may still be laboring under the impression that she is your buddy.  Take full and vicious advantage of this.  If she always dresses nice, she is fully camouflaged, and you are screwed.  You will actually have to pay attention to her face or something.

 

But here is the real secret.  If she generally looks put together, like she brushed her hair and at least more often than not has made a passing acquaintance with a blazer and a pencil skirt, watch closely.  If she comes to school in heels, with her hair nicely done and adorable shoes, she is fragile and breakable.  Center-of-the-line folk, like myself, don’t over-state it too often. We do like to look nice, because it’s what you should do.  But pencil skirts and heels are not comfortable.  So if we show up like this is a job interview, we are drowning in insecurity or misery.  If you are kind students, this is your chance to be sweet.  Pay us a compliment, don’t talk while we are talking, try to say something that lets us know we are somewhat decent at our jobs.

 

If you are not kind, well, it’s a skirt/heels day today, so just imagine that you have the power to make us weep like small children, but we have the power to fail you.  So consider carefully.

 

Now, I have to go make the all-important decision whether to grade presentations or eat lunch.  This requires all my attention, which means that I will talk to you lovely folks later.

 

…if you’re actually still here.

Promises Promises

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I know, I know.  Best of intentions, and it’s still a month and a half between posts.

First off, big news on the blogger-that-is-me front, this blog will soon have the ability to be renamed Gradstudentandadjunctinthedark.

…It won’t be, because that is long and unruly and looks terrible, but the point still stands.  Sometime in August, yours truly will be moving… somewhere, where the land flows with living stipends, and I will still be teaching but also balancing other obligations as well.  PHD land, baby.

All joking aside, I’m more excited than I can possibly say.  This has been a long time hoped/prayed for, and is the fulfillment of 3 and a half years of anxiety attacks and application fees.  So expect a few stories on here not directly related to adjuncting–because I can only write about the stuff taking up most space in my brain.  Focus?  What’s that.

Otherwise, the semester has started.  I have a much more motivated lot of students, though I still can’t tell how they feel about me.  I admit that my head has sort of been in the clouds since I found out about school, and it’s reflecting on my teaching a little.  It’s like senior-itus, except, I suspect, worse.  But I soldier on, and hopefully they get an education in the process.

I’m trying to get through grading their first papers.  Because I procrastinate chronically, it’s been a struggle.  But I’m hoping to finish them today.  I have, however, discovered that grading will forever be my downfall.  I start reading those blessed little papers, and the next thing you know, all I want to do is sleep.  It’s better than drugs.  And I’ll finish this batch just in time for the next one to start.  But it’s my own fault, so.

We’re doing an activity on revision tomorrow.  I’m already trying to explain the difference between peer review and revision in my own head, just in preparation, so I know what to say when I’m repeating myself for the sixth time.

That’s it for now.  I’ve got to go see a lady about a thing.  Hope 2014 is starting out well for you all.

Over and out.

Happy 2014

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Well, here goes another year.  2013 was…interesting to say the least.  There are too many world events to count, and huge momentous things that I am in no way qualified to talk about on a teaching blog.

 

On the personal front, it was a year of learning to wait.  I did grad apps in the spring that didn’t pan out, got let go, got re-hired, and had one of the most challenging semesters I’ve had yet.  But all in all, it shaped up pretty well.  It was a strange year of limbo for me, but also one that taught me a lot about patience, and finding the good even in the ugly, and about enjoying simple things no matter what.  I think I grew a little, and that seems like about as much as anyone can ask from a year.

 

The most interesting, and relevant to this blog (yes, sometimes I stay on topic), was my collection of students this semester.  Partially because of me, and partially because of them, we had trouble getting places this semester.  I talked and talked, but it felt like we never really got anywhere.  I left the semester fairly convinced they hadn’t learned anything.

 

And then I looked at the class reflections, and almost cried.  I got several comments that this was their favorite English class, that it challenged them, and that it helped them come out of their shells.  Now granted, I forgot to give them the talk about how I don’t read these until after I grade, so some of them might be sucking up, but those folks aside, I got some very sweet and uplifting comments.

 

As a teacher, that’s my main goal–I want to help them.  And if I can’t teach them how to formulate a bloody argument, or that a thesis statement is not a question, I’d like to at least teach them that they can write, that writing is important, or that they have opinions worth listening to.  And I think I managed to do that, and that makes me feel good about the last five months.

 

So even though things kind of ended on a whimper instead of a bang, I still have a warm fuzzy for these kids that I never expected to have.  I might actually miss them.  And so many of them are teetering on the cusp–I hope they tip over on the side that lets them do great things.

 

So that’s me.  As for you, I hope your year was full of learning and interesting discoveries, that you moved beyond something, or gained something, or just left 2013 a little better and more interesting than you found it last January first.

 

All the best from the blog.  Everyone have a safe and happy night, and let’s give 2014 a run for its money.

 

Cheers.

Poor, poor neglected blog…

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I was doing so well with keeping up posting here, and then I just…failed.  This fall hit me hard.  I couldn’t really tell you why.  But my energy levels have been at less than 0.  But I’m back in action now, so let’s hope it holds.

 

Translation: I’m submitting PHD applications, prepping my students for their final research papers, and trying to prepare for the holidays.  So, go go gadget procrastination.

 

I won’t do a recap of the entire semester here, because frankly, none of you really care that much.  I don’t, either.  But let’s say it’s been a little rough.  I can’t tell if it’s my lack of enthusiasm, or if I just have the biggest collection of bums ever, but we are just not making headway.  They are not bad kids, but they are lazy, and ballsy about being lazy.  I am also lazy, and we are just having a big old collaborative laze-fest that is not getting things done.

 

Some of my favorite examples of our issues:

“I didn’t get the essay. So I didn’t do it.” (We had been working on it in class for 20 minutes.)

“Can I get some help? Also how do I do citations.” (the evening *after* we turned the paper in.)

“We have to read the whole thing?” (I gave them class time to read an article they were supposed to read for homework.)

 

So I think it might be a combo.  Grad apps season also means that my brain is not totally on teaching.  So I’m working on being better–if I have more pep, maybe they will too.  I’m also hoping stuffing myself with potatoes and pie for the next three days will put a bit of zip back in me.  Or it will send me into a food coma.  I will take either.

 

And, finally, since I know you were all dying to hear about it…

 

THE TEACHERS LOUNGE SAGA CONTINUES!

 

So, either my colleagues are paranoid, or actual hot magma comes out of the coffee machine.

 

Me: *creeps in, trying not to interrupt jabbering ladies*.

Jabbering ladies: blah blah blah, What Not to Wear, so-and-so’s grandpa…*slow fade to silence*.

Me: *continues to be awkward. Grabs cup for coffee.*

Jabbering ladies: *whisper whisper, mumble something about coffee*.

Single jabbering lady: *comes over* it’s hot. Do you need help? I don’t want you to burn yourself. It’s REALLY hot.

Me: I’m fine.  It’s…I’m…I’ve got it.

Lady: *looks dubious*.

Me: *collects coffee.  Waves like manic idiot. Flees.*

 

And they keep going silent and watching me when I go in there.  It is coffee, not lava. Calm down, people.  It’s getting to the point where I don’t even go in there if I can hear people–the worried staring is just uncomfortable for everybody.

 

So, I hope that amused you, or at least told you my sense of humor has not improved.  I’m going to try going back to around once a week.  If that doesn’t happen…someone poke me.  I either got lazy, or I’m taking a cross-country hike to go throw eggs at the ETS building.

 

…or I crawled under my bed and am refusing to come out.  Anything is possible.

Grammar and Fashion Woes

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You’ll notice that I left out that comma up there, leaving that title very ambiguous.  Look at me being all teacher-y.

So we covered grammar on Tuesday, or, more importantly, we covered commas.  I think that, if I wasn’t fearing mutiny before, I should be fearing it now.  Take a bunch of 18-year-olds, trap them in a room for an hour and 40 minutes, and ram a bunch of confusing punctuation rules down their throats, and you’re just asking for trouble.  At the end I asked them what about grammar they wanted to learn about in later class periods, and I actually waited for an answer.  After some mutterings, I got the “well, you’re the teacher, we all hate this. So it’s your job to figure out what we’re supposed to learn.”  …okay then.  If y’all want a dictator, then a dictator you shall have (but in retrospect asking the question in the first place was sort of a bad call on my part. They’re like puppies–they want structure, even if they don’t know it).

I think it went  *mostly* alright though.  They won’t remember anything, except maybe the comma splice, but we have the rest of the semester to work on it.  I was supposed to cover parts of speech today, but considering the restless stirring of the troops, I decided it was time to switch tactics.  We’re sort of in creative writing mode today, with a game included, so hopefully that will go better.

Then again, I’m introducing their first paper today, so I may have already shot myself in the foot.  Like a coward, I am waiting until the class has already begun to send out the assignment sheet.

What, they’re intimidating…

But, to inspire confidence in myself, I did dress the part to be a professor today (yes, this is where we get to the fashion woes).  Bought a new jacket, and it practically has freaking elbow patches.  Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I own a BLAZER.  I am a MATURE ADULT.

…And, as I very maturely strode across the street to catch the bus to work, I ripped the back stitch out of my pencil skirt.

 

Lesson learned: one should not stride maturely in a skirt that normally makes it a challenge to climb stairs.

It’s just a sort of decorative split in the lower quarter of the back of the skirt, so it’s not like I’ll be stuck showing my nickers to the college at large, but I feel so much less put together with my flap… flapping.  But here in lies the advantage to being a blind professor: I don’t have to turn my back on them to write on the chalkboard.  So unless some little creep is intentionally staring at my butt, I’m pretty much home free. Win.

Hey, I take my victories where I can get them.  You rip your skirt on the way to work and see what you have left to work with.

Now, off to drink tea and write the rest of this lesson plan, enjoying the fact that it’s like 60 degrees outside, and therefore not a furnace in my office.

Welcome to fall.

 

ETA: FIRST PAYDAY OMG YAY!

 

Week 1 and still kicking

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So, here I am, at the end of the first week.  I’m exhausted and spotted with hummus, but I have truffles and scones, so I think I’m still in the + column at this point.

 

First weeks are always interesting.  This one started out with a presto-change-o in the school lobby, to get me out of my don’t-break-my-ankle sandals into my look-I’m-an-adult heels.  Not my most dignified first move, but it had to be done.  If any students were watching, my credibility is gone.  But my shoes are super cute, so I’ll cope.

 

This was followed by not being able to sign onto the network.  School is famous for tech problems, and this one blossomed into an issue that took 3 days to take care of (but it is taken care of now yay).  I love my tech guys.

 

The first class went… fine.  I kind of have a weird sense of brewing hostility in the classroom, but I’m also rampantly and visibly insecure at the start, so I’ll have to report back on whether hints of mutiny are still in the air.  I got the obligatory “What are you not looking forward to in this class?” “writing,” conversation out of the way (there’s always one), and am now ready to set off on my Dead Poet’s Society mission to make these children fall in love with me and my subject.

 

Hey, shut up, I am young and naive enough to have impossible dreams.

 

Some stupid college thing screwed with my scheduling today, so class was only a half hour, so Tuesday’s impressions are still sort of today’s impressions.  Why you wouldn’t send a freaking Email out when classes are only going to be half an hour long, I don’t know…(this is the point where I descend into unintelligible muttering, so move along).

 

.  Anyway, I haven’t spent enough time in-class, so you guys will have to wait to hear more about the specifics of the week until the specifics…actually exist.

 

I guess the only weird thing I’m noticing is that one of the guys is, completely without sarcasm, calling me ma’am.  I am not sure how I feel about this.  The only thing I can fathom is that he *is* military, so maybe it’s a thing.  Either way it’s a thing that makes me feel weird, and I kinda wanna ask him not to.

 

I am not a MA’AM!

 

But I digress.

 

Other than those little stories, things have been mostly uneventful.  the only embarrassments of notice are the above-mentioned hummus-spotting (when eating at your desk, be sure to take note if your crackers have a giant hole in the middle), and accidentally requesting access to a student’s google doc with my personal Email address.  Hopefully she is not a troll who will now stalk and harass me all semester because she knows where I really live on the internet.

 

Okay, this is getting long, and I’m really tired.  Pretending to be an extrovert really takes it out of a girl.  So it’s time for tea and a nap, not sure about the order yet.  I beg your forgiveness and indulgence for the complete lack of coherency in today’s post–see above about fake extroversion being really, really exhausting.  I promise to make sense later.

 

P.S.: the truffles and scones were a care package from my wonderful mother and  one of my surrogate moms.  I love them always. Getting yummies is still just as exciting when you teach freshmen as it was when you were one, and I am spoiled beyond belief. ❤

My Victory’s Complete!

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I finally have a contract!  And once I get off this blog, I’m actually going to go sign it!

 

The writing prompt for today was “pick the third line from the last song you heard and make it your post title, then write.”  I usually reserve that kind of posting for when I have important non-bloggy things to do that I’m procrastinating on, but upon reflection, the title seemed appropriate.  Thanks, Joss.

It was Just the Wind

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I went to campus today to run a few beginning-of-semester errands, including “I wonder where my classroom is” and “let’s see if anybody knows why I don’t have a real contract yet.”  In the process, I decided to stop down to find out where my mailbox was, because I…never actually used it last year, and I needed to have some desk copies sent to school.

 

Turns out…I don’t have one.  The lady asked me if it was going to be my first semester.  I said no, and she just looked puzzled and said she’d get her boss to Email me (which he didn’t do, but my hopes weren’t high on that front).  Luckily, I found out I can ship desk copies to the department office, so all’s well on that score.

 

Then, upon arriving home, I had a note from our accessibility services, notifying me of some things relating to my class list.  Immediately following that Email, I had a “welcome to the university, here’s what you need to know about the accessibility office.”

 

…Was I invisible last year?  Did I just end up as a figment of my supervisor’s imagination?  I know there are probably reasonable explanations for why I’m getting some of this stuff now, but it kind of makes me feel like I just hallucinated the last two semesters, and really this is my first time teaching.  I’d heard adjuncts were forgettable to some people, but I really must have done a spectacular job of being antisocial.  There seems to be no sign that I actually existed in 2012.

 

On the bright side, I did find the infamous faculty lounge!  The one where, when I asked where it was, I got the “…I have no idea” from two or three different people.  This, and the strange look I got from someone going in there this afternoon, kind of leads me to believe adjuncts aren’t really “welcome” there, but it is a magical land with coffee and hot water for tea and a microwave and a toaster and dammit I am not giving that up.

 

…I did not have the guts to take a brownie off the table. I want to challenge boundaries here, not stomp them into little pieces.  The social order must be maintained.

 

One week and counting…

It is officially time for school to start..

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August has decided to rally for what I hope is its one last heat wave, which means, for the most part, I am stuck in my house being sweaty and miserable, and talking to the cat a bit too much.

 

…Not only that, but I just ate peanut butter out of the jar and chocolate chips out of the bag, combining them for dessert-y goodness… while watching old episodes of Buffy the Vampire Slayer on my phone.

 

Summer vacation is all well and good, but I feel I have reached a new low, and should probably start doing something productive and professional now.  After all, how can I have the dignity and poise necessary to finish a syllabus when my hands smell like peanuts?

 

I’m not sure if I should hope people are reading this, or not.  It makes me look pathetic if you are, and if you aren’t, I’m discussing my slow descent into summer-induced madness by talking to myself.

 

Come on, September…