TGIF

Last night I essentially pulled an all-nighter to get a set of exams graded. (Two hours of shut eye is not sleep; it's a nap.) Now I'm letting the week slip away by lounging on the couch (with no grading!) with a beer.

So while I try to drink/sleep away the memory of the week, may I direct you towards some new reading? Click on over to Temporary Professor. Temp Prof is balancing a post doc position with an adjunct teaching job. Yes, I know: wow! Click on over and say hello.

Another case of TMI

Today I received the following email:

Dr. R- Sorry that I wasn't in class today. I had really bad cramps. ~Undergrad


My reply?*

Undergrad: I have killer cramps today, too, but I sucked it up, downed some midol, and lectured for 3 hours. ~Dr. Reaction






*imaginary; not sent.

grading timeout

I have dragged my pile of grading and prep work into my cave. I have a stockpile of chocolate (dark, milk, and white) and enough coffee to power a small village (if you gave it to hamsters that ran on wheels that generated electricity for the village).

I will return soon.


Hopefully to announce that my grading is done, and not just to beg for donations of truffles or brownies.

My love-hate relationship with recommendation letters

Oh, yes. Recommendation writing season is upon us. This week alone I need to write letters on behalf of students applying for summer internships, resident advisor positions, study abroad programs, scholarships, and even to transfer to other schools.

I enjoy talking to students about what they hope to accomplish and what they have already achieved. It's nice that they feel that I know them well enough after one class with them to write a favorable recommendation. I like thinking that I may be helping my students achieve their next step... even if it is to leave TempCollege.

But.

I really am not a fan of the actual writing of the letter.

For one, I'm horribly slow. I know I'm overthinking the whole process. I know I should be able to bang out a good recommendation letter in less than 20 minutes. I know all of these things.

Letterhead is my kryptonite. I feel all my coherent sentences draining out of me once I see (or think about!) printing onto the watermarked paper.

I'm sure that I will improve with time. But until then, I've got a dozen letters to get through.

A conversation with N.A.

UR: Oh, a package!

N.A.: Oh, really? I wonder who sent it to you?

UR: Oh, it's from you! ...wait, we said we weren't doing Valentine's day presents!!

N.A.: No we didn't. When I asked you if you were getting me anything for VD, you said no. I didn't say anything.

UR: Sneaky, sneaky.


Yes, N.A. is quite sneaky. He is also very romantic, so it all balances out. I hope you are having a great Valentine's Day / Singles Awareness Day. What are you doing to celebrate? Fancy dinner? Couples massage? Girls' night out? Running a super snazzy assay?

just slap a sandwich board on me...

...or maybe I should just put up a big banner in the hallway: Students, Dr. Reaction is leaving this year. No, it is not your fault. No, there is no crying in science.

Every day for the past, oh, eight or so days, I've had to inform a student (or a whole lab section) that no, I will not be teaching here at TempCollege in the fall. I have a job. A job that should turn into a tenure track position.

While it is touching that my students (and students that I haven't actually taught!) get (so) upset when they realize I'm leaving, it's freakin' exhausting to have to address their concerns about my departure! I keep hoping that word will finally spread, but maybe I should just put a big sign on the student union, or take an ad out in the student paper?

Cranky Coworkers

What is the protocol when a coworker throws a tantrum?

What is the protocol when a coworker throws a tantrum in front of students?



If academia was a nursery school, I would sit their ass down in a time out.



But it's not nursery school. Wait.... we've got bullies on the playground, germs on everything, and plenty of us are in need of a midday nap. Hmmm.... that time out is looking more and more like a valid option.

Death by chocolate

The other night I had my most Miranda moment to date. Remember the episode of Sex and the City where Miranda has just moved into her new apartment, starts choking, recovers, and then has a panic attack because she thinks that she almost died alone and gotten eaten by her cats?? (NO? I tried to find the youtube clip....)

Well, I had a similar moment (without woman-eating cats, thank goodness) the other night. I was noshing on chocolate chips and watching [embarrassing tv show] when I suddenly started choking. Yes, I inhaled some melty goodness. I then couldn't breathe due to (what I assume to be) melty goodness blocking my windpipe.

As I slowly faded away due to the wayward chocolately juices, I realized that there were worse ways to die than by chocolate. I could get crushed in the stacks in the library. I could suffocate on chemical fumes. I could hit my head on the pipe above the washing machine, pass out, and freeze to death in the basement.

Yeah, chocolate wasn't looking so bad now.

Once I finally caught my breath, I was comforted by one thought: I have a job in the fall near N.A., and I will never have to worry about dying alone again.