I will enter the old hall tomorrow morning, and I will wear my coat of hopefulness.It has been rather cold here over the winter break, and mostly Mrs. Yaro and I, Yaro, have taken to closing off the rooms on the upper floor and huddling together in our warm kitchen and dining room. This close contact has led to long discussions of the college, my place in it, my young charges through the years, and the length of my remaining string as a member of its faculty.
I take great gasps of air between terms now. It was not always this way. I was a charger, of course, a striver. I had a long climb ahead of me, and a career of which I intended to make full and mighty.
And of course now I am just grandfatherly Yaro, white haired Yaro, plump-bellied Yaro, with a threadbare wardrobe. My shoes are scuffed. The knees of my pants and the elbows of my coat all shine.
And the string, I know, is short.
So I will make my way through the boulevards of this town in the morning headed to a general education course at 8 am Monday, and I will bring with me a renewed sense of joy and love for the task, because I know not how many more of these gifts will be mine.
Mrs. Yaro tells me that my eyes well when I talk of the end of my career. And that surprises me, for I, Yaro, like you, my "miserable" colleagues, have often complained of the tasks, the dreadful black energy of a bad class, my aching need to gain release from the college and its hallways of horror.
Yet, as Monday looms for me, I give myself over to the fact that I love the job, and that as a veteran of many of its wars, I realize I am one closer to never again having this nervous energy in my stomach, the butterflies that remind me there is a vexing job to do, with young people waiting.
To all of my new online colleagues, I send my best wishes. Let us all don our winter wear in the morning, and find lighter steps to lead us to the new term.
I am grateful for you,
Yaro
I was reading this instead of typing up my notes for my first lecture since May. Was feeling pretty miserable about it too.
ReplyDeleteThank you for this.
I will assume that I make some sort of difference to at least one, and they couldn't just learn it all from the book.
I was lying in bed awake last night, wondering where you had gone to, Yaro.
ReplyDeleteGlad you're back.
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ReplyDeleteGod bless Yaro.
ReplyDeleteIt makes me so happy to see Yaro's lovely face on the page again. I really really need his instruction and guidance right now, so I'm thankful Mrs. Yaro has pushed him out of the toasty kitchen and back into the classroom.
ReplyDelete(The description of his knees and elbows is so fantastically insightful, I can barely stand it!)
I, Glabella, would like Yaro to adopt me. Are you, perhaps, interested in a young academic to mentor?
ReplyDeleteThis post actually choked me up a little bit.
Any stupid, obnoxious student or anonymous Internet troll who gives Yaro a hard time deserves to be in a special circle in hell. Academia will miss your kind spirit, old colleague, as it gets increasingly coarse, as with society at large. But I assume you'll have a long retirement ahead? Have you given any thought what to do?
ReplyDeleteThank you, Yaro. Your posts always help put things in perspective for me.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Yaro, I needed that.
ReplyDeleteI am grateful for the return of Yaro and his gentle wisdom and encouragement.
ReplyDeleteYou had me at the "coat of hopefulness".....may your students not be the crazed loons of previous years, Yaro Foodie.
ReplyDeleteA lovely start to the semester. Thank you, Yaro.
ReplyDeleteYaro, you had me at, "It is I."
ReplyDeleteOh, Yaro... If only I knew you were nearby so I could consult with you!
ReplyDeleteYaro reminds me that there are retired colleagues I really miss.
ReplyDeleteOthers, not so much.
Thank you. That's all, just "Thank you."
ReplyDeleteGod bless Yaro, and all those who sail with him.
ReplyDeleteSir, you remind me of a dear professor who taught me Latin and Ancient Greek. He addressed us all as Mister or Miss, and spoke in a calm, low, even tone. We talked about conceptual grammar, ancient history, the myth of progress, and many other things not directly related to declension or voice. Of course, there were at most 5 of us in a classroom at any one time. Slow, happy days. Thank you for reminding me that those days did happen once.
ReplyDeleteDear Yaro,
ReplyDeleteI am wondering something that may take some careful thought on your part to answer well, but many people in this forum very probably will want to hear. It is this: How does a gentle spirit like you survive in today's ever-coarsening society, and, especially, classroom?
I might like to think that no one would think to be uncivil to a blessed soul like you, but sadly, reality often intrudes, rudely. How do you deal with students who lie to your face, cheat and act as if they sincerely believe they should as long as they don't get caught, and are just plain rude and overbearing? Above all, how do you tame that self-centered feeling of entitlement that so many of your colleagues here complain about so often?
Thanks,
FFF
P.S. Next time I see Wicked Walter, I am going to ask him how he makes sure his students do their reading assignments. I find that reminding them that the task at hand might blow up matters not a whit to some of my students: they will lie to my face that they did do their reading, and lie to themselves that they know enough of it and that it doesn't matter.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Yaro. I echo FFF's queries.
ReplyDelete