So those two “crap” projects I turned in?  Actually not crap.  I found that out yesterday, at which time I also found out that another “crap” project I turned in for Appalachian Lit in March was also not crap.  What a shot in the arm!  Maybe I don’t need to be always walking around among all these 36 year-old Phd. students apologizing for being young, and dumb.  Well, I mean, there’s nothing wrong with being young and dumb, but I may not need to forever apologizing.  Take the seriosity a little less seriously.  (Great word I learned from Philip Larkin—I believe—via Charles Wright.)

So.  Both workshops over (“teacher research project” on composition students’ perceptions of whole-class workshops, BLAAHHHH, and my Appalachian abstract on the sophisticated and shockingly neglected poetry of James Still, <3 ).  All classes except one are over.  My mentor has even graciously excused me from having to grade any of our students’ final papers.  Basically, now, I get to settle into the real, pure joy of graduate school: reading and writing.  These two weeks before the end of the semester have always been my favorite part of the semester, even in college, but graduate school exercises even less control over one’s time during the last two weeks than undergraduate.  I get to focus on my stuff, the stuff I love.  (With the exception…does this post have too many exceptions?…of Pedagogy.)  Only to write, now, to write and read and writes.  Still, Berry, Powell; Szymborska; final portfolio of my own writing.

Incidentally, Appalachia, the first and only Charles Wright collection I have ever read, has changed my world yet again.  I hope to post some poems from it next chance I get.  I think I have a lot to say about those poems.  I just can’t say them until I’m done saying what I need to say about Szymborska and Still.

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