I teach a class at eight a.m. on Mondays and Wednesdays. Despite the atrocious time, I am excited about it because I finally get to teach a freshman composition class for the first time since grad school. (I’ve been teaching mostly developmental writing, as my tutoring position chiefly involves helping students in developmental writing. I do like teaching developmental writing, but I’ve been wanting to broaden what I teach.)
My class ran a few minutes past its ending time, and I had to discuss a couple of matters with students who were absent last week. Meanwhile, the students from the next class filtered in. I tried to hurry so I could vacate before the next class would start.
I gathered my stuff and rushed to the door. At the same time, the instructor for the next class walked in. He looked at me and said, “Where’re you going?” Puzzled, I replied, “I’m leaving.” He seemed a bit taken aback by this, so I explained that I taught the class before his.
He said he thought I was one of his students because I looked familiar. (Well, I was at the adjunct instructor composition meeting.) Apparently he thought I looked young like a student, too. I repeated that I was the instructor for the previous class, a “composition” class. He apologized, and, flustered, I responded that it was okay and disappeared as quickly as I could.
Only after I was gone did I realize that I could’ve pointed out that I’d met him at the adjunct meeting. See how unmemorable I am? I clearly remembered him, but he didn’t much recall me.
It probably didn’t help that I was wearing a backpack. (I used to use a messenger bag, but it tore up. That left me with the backpack as my only bag for carrying class materials.)
I was so embarrassed by it all.
It’s been so humid (and warm) today that I’ve been feeling sick. There’s a reason humidity is the weather condition I dislike the most. It’s odd that I, who grew up in a humid place, am so affected by the humidity.
I’ve decided that my return to blogging will be gradual. As I mentioned yesterday, the idea of returning overwhelms me. Plus, I need to have a little time for my creative writing.
But I think I figured out what is making me most antsy: it’s my social anxiety. Just as I get cripplingly nervous when I see people I haven’t talked to for a long time (a long time can even be a week), I’m feeling petrified about the idea of returning to the blogging world. As with the former situation, it might even take a little dissociation before I can feel comfortable again.