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February 15, 2005
the story of The Big Day
As HBH said in an email today, "lordie pie." It's been quite a day—a blogworthy day. It was my first day back on campus since the accident (and yes, I'm willing to link back to that again). It was the first day that the doctor authorized me to drive and to go to work. So of course I did. The day was sunny and warm, so the drive was uncomplicated by snow and ice. Still, it was a 50-mile drive, very nerve-wracking. I gripped the steering wheel like an old lady who needs cataract surgery, and I actually found myself slowing down fearfully when traffic approached. Not, shall we say, my usual self.
I pulled into the parking lot and realized, "Oh, I meant to stop at Skytop and get a new parking sticker" (the old one having been destroyed in the wreck). So I turned around, feeling like a fool, and drove back to the Skytop building. But no, I drove a half mile past the Skytop building before I realized what I was doing. So I turned around again, this time getting to my destination, getting to the parking office, and getting my new sticker.
So I pull into my parking lot for the second time, stop the car, and realize, "Oh, I meant to drive around to my building and unload this crate of files for Kelly." But I just didn't have the heart to pull out of the parking lot again and go do that deed. Really, I was feeling very demoralized, wondering if at some near time someone might find me wandering around Syracuse, unable to identify myself or my destination.
So I trudged to the office, got up to the second floor, encountered Carol and Margaret in the hall, and upon being greeted by them, began crying. Really. And I'm thinking, "Oh, lord, how am I going to cope?" But Carol, god bless her, came into my office with me, sat down, and talked. And she offered to release me from all my teaching duties for the rest of the semester. Sincerely.
So I said I'd think about it, and then I went about the business of reading through my mail, delivering my poor PowerBook to The George (who was actually able to fix it!), greeting all my colleagues, filching some of Chris's and Mary Beth's dark chocolate, listening to my phone messages, getting my new long-distance access code, and just sort of getting myself grounded again. By late morning, I had figured out how best to respond to Carol's offer. My course assignments this semester are a heavily-enrolled grad class; an advanced undergrad course in style that I'm co-teaching with Tyra; and chairing the department's standing committee on the upper-division curriculum. For the grad class, I have a well-developed plan, and I also have a good sense of what needs to be done to get me and the students working shoulder to shoulder for the rest of the semester. For the upper-division committee, I also know what needs to be done. But the undergrad course was really stumping me. I'd only met with them twice before the accident, and Tyra had been carrying it solo since then. And I was feeling pretty overwhelmed by the prospect of figuring out how to insert myself into that course. Nor was it just a matter of picking up a course that was well underway; it's also an issue of how little I can work yet, and how slowly I do. I'm able to do complex intellectual work as well as I could before the accident, but at about 40% of the speed. (I'm trusting this will improve, though it's my understanding that severe concussion can take 3-12 months for complete recovery.) So it's clear to me that I couldn't successfully pick up my full load just yet.
So I proposed to Carol that she relieve me of the undergrad teaching assignment—and wonderfully, she said it would be no problem. I talked with Tyra, who's game to continue in the course solo (with me as behind-the-scenes collaborator) or with a new co-teacher. And by the end of the day, I was actually happy. I enjoyed the drive home!
Everybody everywhere always bitches about their department, about the things that go wrong. But my blog entry this evening is motivated by a day at the office in which I was really, really confronted with the very best of my very fine department. In part it's the people: Carol, Margaret, Tyra, and Dave were extremely understanding and supportive today, and really helped me figure out how to manage my re-entry into work on campus. Kristi and Lou Ann helped me get those damned files to the office. And I talked with a couple dozen other colleagues, warming myself in the glow of hugs, good wishes, and camaraderie. But in part it's a department that has a tradition of supporting its workers through illness, tragedy, and the other vagaries of life. It was wonderful to be on the receiving end of that tradition, enacted by real friends. Don't let anyone tell you that the SU Writing Program is a tough place. It's not. It's a demanding place, where one's ideas and actions are constantly scrutinized, criticized—and improved. And it's a warm, supportive place where people, and I mean lots of people, are genuinely caring of each other. I'm lucky to be here.
Thanks for listening.
Posted by senioritis at February 15, 2005 08:17 PM
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Comments
*hug*
(that's one for the road, for the next time you venture out onto it!)
Posted by: tyratae at February 15, 2005 10:05 PM
p.s. & tell 'em about the gasoline!
Posted by: tyratae at February 16, 2005 06:56 AM