I need to get comfortable enough with teaching that the quality of my day does not depend on what kind of class I had. I know that some classes will be better than others. Today wasn�t a bad day. It just wasn�t a great day. I was feeling really good about things coming in, after Monday�s class. But then I ran into the teaching advisor who informed that not only was I going to be reviewed (which I expected) but I was going to be reviewed NEXT WEEK. I found this out right before going into class and so I started off nervous, was a little too dependent on my outline as a result, and because I was a little too dependent on my outline, I didn�t let the class participate enough. Hence the mediocre class. It�s not like I did something egregious, but we just didn�t connect today. But I�ve got a few days off now to regroup. And Monday we�ve got live performers coming, so hopefully that will start the week off well. Class is always better when there�s singing. Monday is another day. Monday is a whole new week. After Monday, the class will be 25% finished.

Om.

And now I am waiting around for the first shuttle to the train. I can�t wait to get home and hear about AJ�s day. His school had backwards day, for which he was asked to wear mismatched and clothing (�Look! One red shoe! One white shoe!�). He was even more excited about Backwards Day than he was about the Halloween and Christmas parties. �You know what we�re going to do when we get there, Mommy?� he asked for the fiftieth time this morning. �What?� I asked, pretending that I hadn�t heard the answer 49 times already. �We�re going to sing the goodbye song!�

I thought at first the clothing was what he was excited about, but actually the change of schedule seems to be the chief attraction. The absurd notion of singing goodbye when you mean hello took fun to a whole new level for him. �Hey, Mommy, today school at day backwards it�s!� The notion of life in retrograde � just how does that work exactly?

At the end of class today I played a song by Guillaume de Machaut entitled �Ma fin est mon commencement� � my end is my beginning. The song is a retrograde canon and the text describes its structure: The end is, quite literally, its beginning. Backwards day. I take the train in, I teach, turn around and take the train home. I have a good day, I turn around, I have a bad day. I am a retrograde canon. Ma fin est mon commencement.

Campus life continues. An army of women in sports bras and running shorts just sprinted by me and up to the steps of the administration building. One of them went inside and the rest are waiting in front. On any other campus an army of trim, scantily clad women bouncing around in the center of campus, away from all athletic centers, would attract a great deal of attention. As far as I can tell, I am the only one who has noticed them at all. Are they demonstrating? About to burst into song? Just having a rest before heading back? Apparently the latter. Here they come again. One boy in the quadrangle full of students sprawling with books on the grass looks up at them then looks around to see if anyone saw him look.

I will be getting up soon and heading to the bus. I need to stop thinking about teaching. I need to get comfortable enough with teaching that the quality of my day does not depend on the class I had.

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