1978
First day of classes. I don’t teach until 2 pm, so won’t go to campus until 10:30 or so. That gives me time to:
Tidy bedroom and living room
Go over lecture #1
Walk Marley
Exercise
Maybe write a couple of letters (but probably not)
Go over lecture #1 again.
Ack! How has this turned into a laundry list, I don’t know. It’s another beginning and I do feel very excited (cold hands, sweaty feet). But it is becoming a bit more “routine”. I am less nervous, more confident. My biggest problem right now is overcoming the desire to just introduce the course and then send them on their way. It’s like in “Up the Down Staircase” when she tried to initiate a class discussion the first homeroom period period. The result was chaos. I don’t have to worry about chaos, but would like to see a glimmer of interest. When they expect to be let out early, they have no interest in a lecture, much less a discussion, on the first day. So maybe it’s not possible. I think I will muse aloud on the concepts of clothing, costume, and fashion and hope they stay awake.
1983
Connie, Jack and their dog Quincy were just here for a week-long visit. It was too long and I’m afraid I pushed myself too hard. (That sounds like something my mother would say.) By Friday both Kiddo and I were getting pretty cranky. Oh, well. They enjoyed themselves, we enjoyed ourselves, mostly. Kiddo adored Quincy and still talks about her.
Now it’s back to work for the year. I think it should be a good year; I’m starting to feel like my old self. Except now I’m a mommy.
1996
A quiet house on Saturday morning. Jim and Kiddo 2 are at soccer practice, Kiddo 1 is still asleep. I ate breakfast, read the paper and walked around town a bit. I thought about what I needed to to this weekend:
Writing:
welcome letter to Scholars
letter to Connie
Planning:
Girl Scouts parents meeting
graduate student orientation
Church council agenda
last Peace Camp session
4 phone calls
Read three theses.
Comment and update 2023
Three different decades, three very different stages in my life. I see myself at the beginning of my career, still learning the basics, and discovering myself as a teacher. Turn the page and I am more settled in my career, but about to add the new role of “working mommy”. Thirteen years later there’s the to-do list in all of its glory, but without the angst about whether everything will get done. It’s just a list. A few days ago I left my “brain” - the notebook where I keep my lists - at the library, and didn’t notice until two days later. I turned the apartment upside down for about 30 minutes, first slowly, so Jim wouldn’t notice. “Oh, I will just wander into the bedroom and open this drawer.” “Don’t mind me, I am just thumbing through the paper recycling bin.” The last ten minutes I was in full panic mode, racing heart and all. I checked the car, then came inside and called the library as soon as it opened. Success!
Lists are essential to my well-being.