My blog is reader-supported. When you buy through links on my site, I may earn an affiliate commission.
This post was originally published via Substack on April 27, 2024.
Shifting gears for a new season
As I write today, my fingers itch with anticipation for the next season of my year. One of the things that I find most satisfying about working in higher education is the cyclical nature of the semester — and, of course, summer break! I love how a teaching semester is a self-contained thing. It begins with new syllabi and new groups of students, a sense of eagerness, and a readiness to learn (and that includes myself). Roughly sixteen weeks later, it culminates in the last assignments of the course — be they research papers, capstone projects, or final exams. For me that means a substantial stack of grading, but once that’s done, it’s done. I can move on to the next thing. It’s like hitting a reset button every four or five months.
Now, I know many of my teaching friends cringe at the comment that we often get: “Oh wow, it must be so nice to have the summer off!” After the collective groan that teachers everywhere will respond with, let’s get one thing straight: we don’t get summers “off.” For many of us, we continue teaching — online courses for me — because our department needs the volunteers (and let’s face it, many of us could use the extra income). Others I know will work additional jobs in the summer in the service industry or some other arena, or they have kiddos to keep busy during school holidays. Then, there’s the time that the season gives those of us with at least one foot in academia to dive into our research and writing wholeheartedly with fewer distractions than we could ever have in a regular semester of teaching.
A lovely day on campus. Don’t be fooled, I don’t work in that pretty building. Mine was built in the 1960s and has a scary elevator.
With less restriction, there’s space for travel to archives and places of field work. We can spend hours hunched over our works in progress, not having to worry about stopping for a class or whether we forgot a meeting. I’ve come to call this time for my own work, “goblin mode.” Yep, as silly as it sounds it helps take some of the pressure off of making my research and writing time seem aesthetically pleasing. It’s easy for writers like myself (and those who follow writers on social media) to romanticize the writing life. Why, yes, I’d love to have my own home library/office that looks like it was pulled out of a gothic novel and an English country garden to ramble about in as I mull over ideas. Yes, I’d love for there to be unending cups of tea and a tray of biscuits nearby as I lounge about in a perfectly curated writing outfit, taking notes on my latest manuscript. *record scratch* That is not my reality.
My reality is a desk tucked into my flat’s bedroom, a bedroom that is northwest-facing and only gets full sunlight in the late afternoons. Sure, I sometimes migrate out to the dining area or the kitchen island — but that’s another story. There’s the reality that my dog likes to interrupt my writing reverie to bark at people out for a walk with their dogs. There’s noisy neighbors and laundry to do, dinners to plan and always the dishes. No perfect garden lay outside my door, but last summer a flock of two dozen angry Canadian geese who took over the neighborhood and charged, hissing, at anyone who dared come within twenty feet of them. And they shat all over everything.
Anyways, over the next two weeks I’ll be grading final papers and exams, tying up loose ends as the spring semester comes to an end. I’ll build my online summer course and set things in motion to make facilitating it as easy as possibly over the ten weeks it will run. I’ll also be setting down to make more concrete research and writing plans for the months ahead. There will be lots to do and I have high hopes for what I can get done, but I know that I will need to be realistic in what I plan to accomplish. It’s exciting and refreshing, yet also a bit nerve-wracking to think about how best to use my time.
At least there will be many things to look forward to: fresh summer fruits and veg, iced oat milk lattes on the porch, longer days, and time to ramble outside (or among the shelves of my local library). What are you hoping for this new season? If you don’t work in teaching, how do you mark the seasons?
I had the honor of supervising a First Year Research Student this semester. Rose worked with me on her project regarding the shifting ideals of feminine domesticity in the early nineteenth century US. She even transcribed some 200 year old cookbooks!
In my backyard:
There are not so many things blooming this week, but the magnolias are beginning to bud out. The little pair of Mallards that live in the pond behind our home have had ducklings! My sister spotted them earlier this week, so I hope to get a peek at them soon too.
What I’m reading: Richard Osman’s The Thursday Murder Club
What I’m listening to: After Dark podcast with historians Anthony DeLaney and Maddie Pelling
- K
