The end of the year

As I have been most of my life, I am living on the academic calendar. That means that I am coming to the end of the year, a deeply bittersweet time. Graduation is a thrill, but also marks a break with people I have come to know and love, the students who will go on their way to other places. It is, of course, what is supposed to happen, but that does not make it easier.

There are other landmarks, of course. Today is my last class period for criminal law and for my clinic; my criminal practice class ended on Thursday of last week. I always feel awkward in those last few moments; it is kind of a Midwestern good-bye. At my best, I come up with a good story for those last few moments, something that connects to the deepest emotions of the subject (and in criminal law, those do in fact run pretty deep). Then I kind of wave awkwardly and mumble as I quickly back out the door. When I left Baylor, I even pulled an epic stunt so that no one would notice I was leaving.

They all go. The school is quiet as the air gets warm (even in Minnesota).

And the shift in duties is jarring. In the spring, I teach three classes, a total of ten credits. All of my energy goes to teaching, which is a profoundly social project. Then-- boom!-- my job becomes writing, a solitary effort. It's just me in my office with my research moose and some music. I ride my bike in to work, wear old clothes, and churn out words. I love that, too.

But then fall comes, and the wheel turns again...