I grumbled to one of the karate parents last night about the Dire Impending Imminence of Semester 1. Semester 1, for those of you still using the Gregorian calendar, begins on Monday.
"Sorry?" quoth Karate Parent. "Next week? March 2nd? Do you mean to say you've been on holidays for four months?"
"Oh, no, no, no. Not holidays. Certainly not. I have been Writing and Researching and Attending Conferences ... [cough] ... a conference ... and Preparing Lectures ... thinking about preparing lectures ..."
I could see the thought forming in Karate Parent's mind. It looked something like this: "You privileged lazy bugger." But gentle-hearted karate parent that she is, she said: "Yes, I can see how that would be hard work."
"And I feel like I've only just gotten started. With the writing, you know. And I love teaching, I really do, but I'm going to be doing the writing in stolen time now, and March has come so quickly."
Karate Parent, who wrangles a family and packs away thirty-five hours a week of geriatric nursing in her spare time, looked at me pityingly.
Meanwhile, down at the farm, it's been O-week a-go-go, which - many thanks to Howard-Government-Mandated Compulsory Voluntary Student Unionism - no longer involves students trying to solicit students to join debating societies, women's collectives, beer appreciation clubs, thaumaturge impersonators' cabals. Instead, O-Week manifests with employees (i.e., students trying to fund their education habit) trying to sell to students the wares of international telecommunications conglomerates, newspaper manufactories, Portuguese fried chicken byproduct vendors, and bubbly caffeine delivery devices. In the midst of all which - "Get your Red Bull here! Free Mobile Phone with Every $1500 purchase!" - a few valiant student clubs huddle around their card tables.