The Punchline in My Backpack

About springing that run on me yesterday: I expected some stiffness this morning. You know, calves, thighs, hip flexors–maybe even the bottom of my feet, first thing.

All understandable.

None of which are even slightly stiff.

But my entire back? From neck to upper waist? In agony? Seriously? Since when does running exercise my dorsal regions?

I took it as a sign from the Teaching Gods that indeed the “not more than 7 hours a day, 180 days a year” language in my contract really is a joke, with the punchline found somewhere in the depths of that pile of student essays I brought home for Christmas break.

Speaking of back problems (because yes, after about two weeks navigating hallways designed for half the number of students congesting them, I abandoned my cart and began to carry everything I need in an enormous back pack–between all three classes, home and back again)  it is rumored that I get an actual classroom next year. Knock on wood–all the wood you can find.

At any rate,  this morning I stayed in bed and plowed through all 237 ungraded assignments.


I also got a head start on syllabus writing for next semester. Yay, holidays.  Lesson plans and curriculum for two new classes are on the docket for next week.  And also,  figuring out how to translate Ernesto Sirolli’s method of mentoring entrepreneurs into authentic teaching. Because I’m pretty sure there’s a connection:

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