Finals: Fall 2025

I'm winding down tonight after concluding the semester with my Tuesday/Thursday classes. This was my first semester teaching full time after a year of teaching part time as a graduate student... And the semester came to a close just as I was beginning to find its rhythm. I can so easily recall how I felt on the first day of the semester: the lack of preparation, the fear, the terror, and the eagerness to get started. Now I'm sitting at my computer typing, a glass of wine on the desk, taking a pause to admire a drawing one of my students gave me. They remembered when I complimented one of their sketches during a peer review activity and recreated it on a card for me. Just about made me cry. 

My students were wonderful. I think they taught me twice as much as I taught them. Each class left me with a new approach to try out next time, next week, next semester. The activities in my 8 o'clock class were revised three times by the time my 12 o'clock students walked in. I have so much to learn about being a good teacher, but I recognize that my greatest strength is how failure makes me curious. When I was 8 years old, I used to ride my little pink bike in circles around the backyard for hours on end until the wheels dug a single narrow path in the dirt. I'd fall and scrape my knees often, but I didn't come inside for water until I was absolutely satisfied with my speed and control of the bike. I hope I've got the same tenacity now.