phew it’s morning…the first day of my summer

I just got finished calculating my grades this semester, and now summer has officially begun.

My summer, my true summer this year is going to be packed with things to do. All sorts of work things. Some are related to the grant I got, some for teaching. All sorts of things. As I end this semester I realize that most of the students in my class this semester really bonded with me. They all kissed up in the end of the semester letter where they had to write about what they learned. At first I thought, well, they’re all kissing up to me, whatever. But then I thought, well, students don’t all say nice things if they don’t have to. Maybe one or two will kiss your ass, but not all of them, unless of course you are in an MFA program like the one I was in, and you have a professor that needs people to see them as a “goddess” type, and cultivates that kind of atmosphere. But that’s not me. I’m certainly not into that kind of ars erotica–as Foucalt would call it.

Really I believe that all the students are writing nice things at the end because they must mean it. One of my students hugged me after turning in his paper, another tall Somali student tearfully shook my hand with great meaning. I really felt like they valued their time in the class. Teaching that class made me actually like getting up and coming to work in the morning. They were the opposite of the class I had directly before, which were soooo difficult to work with. Funny how that happens. Anyway, it makes me feel good.

This summer I will be a working girl. I really needed to work this summer. Because I felt the intense desire to make money after a rather lean last few years while I was attending grad. school, and finally getting out of credit card debt! Woohoo! My husband has been supporting us mostly this year. But I have been working, too. I also WANT to work. I grew up with two working parents. In fact, the women in my family have always worked way back as long as I can trace the line. We can’t just sit at home. Even if they didn’t get paid for it in money, they worked. For example my great grandmother was a midwife. Even if I have kids in the future, I will work from home as a writer. I can’t handle not having a task.

As for me and my husband–we are both just starting out in our carreers. So, our money situation is better than it could be, but not that great, really. But I have fun when I hang out with other friends my age and we all talk about what we do to save a few bucks. Where we find sales, etc. I never knew that hunting for bargains could be so fun…but it is. And people love to talk about it. It’s kind of a fun thing to put one’s manic energy into. We have these other friends who are a couple who are young and wanted to go out to eat with us. Let’s go somewhere where we have a coupon, or that has a deal, I said, not afraid that they would be offended. Yeah! Great idea. We were all in the same boat. We are all in our mid to late twenties looking for a job that fit with our carreer, fighting for that internship, etc. Nothing pays that great. There are less and less jobs today than there were a few years ago. I am greatful for the work I have. That’s what I was thinking the other day. I got locked out of my house and had to go sit at this cafe until somebody came home. I went and had a coffee and almond croissant even though it was 8:00 at night, and read somebody’s left-over paper. While I was reading it some guy came and asked for all the sections. I gave them to him, because I was only interested in reading the classifieds really. I read the classifieds while alternately glancing through the classic Communist Manifesto. I am teaching it in my critical thinking class this summer. I’m NOT teaching it as a “this is the way things should be in the world” kind of handbook to life. But we are going to examine it as a treatise on critical thought. We are going to try to look at it and understand its ideas and see how and if they still apply today, etc in our world. We are going to talk about the problems of class in American society today and use that as our reference point. I also found this great article in Harpers about the new shock-capitalist Russia and I think it would be a great juxtaposition.

Anyway, as I perused Marx and Engles, when the reading got too dense, I went back to the classified adds and looked under teacher jobs. The only thing they had was special ed instructor and the pay was eleven dollars an hour. It was depressing, but ironic shifting back and forth between the two. In the middle of it, a homeless man came up to me from the street. (I had been sitting in the window). You got a dollar? he asked. No, I said, sorry. How about a quarter? How about a penny? I went through my wallet and fished out some coins. I do have a quarter I said, and handed to him. His hands were grimy from the street, his hair was long, brown and matted with dirt. He was wearing a tattered brown blanket that doubled as a poncho and sported a large white plastic cross, around his neck on a cord. I gave him the change. He took it and then started leaning in and saying. “You know, we’re all gonna die some day, you know. People don’t live forever.” And then he started to sort of babble incomprehensible things at me. The cute young guy who worked at the coffee shop quickly and gently and firmly grabbed the man by the shoulder and ushered him outside. “Man, I told you, you got to leave my customers alone, man.” And the homeless man quietly acquiessed and let himself be led out. I wondered if he did that to get in trouble so somebody would touch him. I wondered if that was the first time somebody touched him all day. When I was in high school I used to hold homeless people’s hands when I gave them change. One time this African man cried when I did it. I had forgotten I used to do this until just now. I used to be more fearless of people then. Now I would think, I have to walk home and the person could follow me, etc. I was in eleventh grade.

This morning I am getting ready to go on a road trip so I better end this peice here. Until next time, fair readers. Until next time.