I’ve been teaching for six weeks now, which means it’s been six weeks since I’ve written one creative word. Which effectively makes me feel like a crazy person.
My parents brought my bed up a few weeks ago. I now have internet. I bought a couch.
The delivery people gave me a four hour window when it would be delivered, so I had to call my leasing office and ask if they’d be willing to let the delivery men in.
“Well, we don’t like to. For liability reasons,” she said. “Don’t you, like, have any friends who can be there? Don’t you know anyone you can ask?”
I almost asked her if the guy who takes my order everyday the coffee shop in town counts. We don’t know each other's names, but he smiles when he tells me my tea costs $1.91. Or maybe the saleslady at the other furniture store who tried to sell me a couch that was $500 over my budget, but she was too nice for me to escape from, so I spent 45 minutes pretending to be interested.
Instead I told her, “No, I don’t know anyone. Except for my coworkers. Who will be at work with me.” Thank you for the boost of self-esteem. Also, if I did have friends, they’d probably be at work from 10-2:00 on Thursday, too.
It’s my first one-bedroom apartment. And even though the rent is significantly higher than it should be because it’s a short-term lease, I still pay over $200 less than I paid for my individual bedroom in New York.
The walls are thin and my neighbors are either blaring a vulgar family drama or having a constant domestic dispute, and my door has 3 locks that still don’t close quite as securely as I’d like. There was a notification stuck in my door today giving me a “friendly reminder” that I’m violating my lease by having an undisclosed pet without properly notifying the leasing office, and letting me know that my neighbors have complained about my dog.
I don’t have a dog.
I have 4 chairs, but no table. There’s no light fixture in my living room, so I set a lamp on one of my 4 chairs and grade papers on the floor next to it. We need fewer things than we think we do.
I have complicated feelings about being back in The South. I keep making social mistakes. Like when one of my students was talking about the Young Republicans Club at school and I said, “Oh, that’s awesome that you guys have political clubs. Is there a Young Democrats Club, too?”
Silence and blank stares.
Someone finally said, “We’re in Tennessee…”
Lesson learned.
I can’t stay in Murfreesboro too long, so I go to Nashville and grade papers in the coffee shops. I really like Nashville. I think it has better coffee shops than New York.
Parent’s Day was last Friday. I had to teach in front of 4 classes full of parents and then have back-to-back meetings with them for 3 hours. My TMJ almost got me, but I survived it. I haven’t talked so much to humans over the age of 15 in almost 2 months.
A lot of parents told me how shy their kid is, and I told them how I used to be so shy it was painful. “It gets so much easier,” I kept reassuring them. One boy's parents told me how reserved their son is and how too much social interaction is exhausting for him. I said, “I totally understand, I’m the same way.” Another social mishap. Don’t worry, I corrected that one well.
I’ve realized that there aren’t enough hours to teach. I’m used to the teaching hours at Duke TIP—7 hours per day on weekdays and 3 hours on Saturday. I teach each of my classes here for 3 and 1/2 hours per week. I wish I could give them 3 hours of homework each night. Then again, I also want to keep my job and not be a cruel tyrant.
I feel like I’ve finally gotten my feet under me enough that I don’t feel like I’m in constant chaos. Maybe I’ll try to do something wild, like read a book, soon.
I’m ready for fall, but I’m not ready for the sun to set so early. Fall makes me miss New England and the entire Northeast. I miss apple picking adventures and October farmers markets and Sophie’s pie. But I’m also happy I get to teach here.
