Then, in the middle of August, I get an e-mail from Dr. Terrill. They’re adding sections of Composition to meet new enrollment demand. They need another instructor on a contract basis to teach five or maybe six sections. Am I interested?
Yes, I am. It’s just a contract, so there’s no medical coverage or any other benefits, but it’s better than nothing. The next day, I head in to pick up the course materials. The office is empty, but there’s a packet waiting for me in the little teacher mailbox.
“Hey Mel!”
I spin around. Rachel’s standing there with a stack of papers to copy.
“I heard you’re going to be teaching,” she says.
“Yes. You too?”
She nods. “I’ve known for a while. They offered me a position right after graduation.”
“See you around then.” I head back out to the jeep and start flipping through the materials. The course has already been designed, and instructors are asked to stick to the outline. I’ll be teaching six sessions, for a total of a hundred and eighty students. I’ll have an office of my own. There will be monthly department meetings to attend. And, we need to make sure that we sign up in order to use the copy machine.
I take a deep breath and exhale slowly. Here we go. The craziness is about to begin.
But that night, as I sit with Morgen in the rocking chair in her room singing the alphabet song, I think again of Salt Spring. There, work isn’t everything. There, life is filled with so much more. On Salt Spring, there’s balance.
Morgen’s beautiful face shines in the glow of the night-light; her sweet blue eyes look up at me. She smiles and giggles as we make up a silly song about farm animals. This is what matters. I have to remember that. I must remain focused on what matters. “It’s going to be okay,”?I whisper, more to myself than to her. I’ll make sure of it. No matter how stressful it gets, I promise that I’ll maintain some balance in my life. I promise that I’ll keep a piece of Salt Spring.
Year Nine
Teaching
All my fears and doubts about being able to maintain balance in?my life, it turns out, were well-founded. For one thing, I'm teaching six classes. The mere task of trying to learn a hundred and eighty names so that I can call on my students properly instead of, “you, the boy in the blue shirt” is difficult. Some seasoned teachers have techniques for this challenge. One takes pictures of students, in groups of five, prints them, labels them, and takes them home to study. Another teacher has each student create a name card, and for the first two weeks she walks around the room and says each student’s name while studying their faces. Another teacher has assigned seating and strictly enforces it for the first few weeks, as it helps with name recognition to identify a person with their location in the room.
None of these techniques feels right for me, so I opt to leave my memory to its own devices. These are people, after all, each one unique and distinct. Surely I’ll be able to learn their first names. However, when the fourth week rolls around and I only know about a third of my students by name, I realize that good intentions are not enough. I should have followed a tried and true strategy. I consider implementing one, but it’s too late for that now. I can’t very well ask to take pictures or have my students create nametags now. The name thing is a lost cause for this semester.
So, instead of calling on students by name, I ask questions in general and then nod in the direction of the student with the raised hand.
“What makes a good research topic?” I ask. I’m standing in front of the class, facing the desks they’ve moved into groups of four. I wait for a response. “Can anyone name one quality of a good research topic? The ones we went over on Monday?”
I wait. Two hands go up half-way. I nod toward the male student with the UMD sweatshirt on. He’s always wearing that sweatshirt and I can always count on him to give me a straight answer. “Yes? What’s one quality?”
“Are there enough sources available on the topic?”
“Yes! Great.” I write his answer on the board. “Did you have another one?” I ask, directing my gaze to the girl on the other side of the room who had also raised her hand.
“Me? Oh, yes. That we’re interested in it.”
“Good!” I write her answer on the board. “That you find the topic interesting and want to research it. What’s another criteria for a good research topic?”
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