I teach one course per semester, which keeps me energized and in touch with students, who I must admit are different than they were 10 years ago, or 15, or when I was a student. I have changed, too. I still love them - fresh ideas, finding their way in the world, floundering around making mistakes while trying to win friends and find mates. Rather than loving them because I'm just-older-than-them, I now see myself more like an aunt who has lived far away and is now settling in to learn all about my long-lost-niece or nephew. Bad analogy as it may be, I do want to help them and I do want to smack them in nearly equal shares - I want to help them as they grow up, smoothing the way to prevent bumps, and yet letting them fall down and get skinned when they do have bumps in the road.
Anyway. My students have been working all week on their resumes and cover letters - it's a tough assignment for many students, who see little value to their lawnmowing or waitressing or babysitting jobs beside the money they earned. So on Friday, I asked them to submit their first draft and I would review them all over the weekend so we could keep going on Monday morning - at 8am. 26 of them. I am an idiot. But I only have 3 more to go. Thank God for ice storms and sick kids and the DVD player, which all kept us home for most of the weekend.