Semester's End

End of semesters always have never been easy for me. There must always be that ‘last class,’ the one where all I have hoped yet failed to teach sits in the last empty chair in the room. The vague hopes of the opening days lay crushed under the weight of texts, student papers, and grade books. I feel so inadequate at this event—and event it always is, as I attempt to communicate what I have yet failed to do so, and students strain to look interested and comprehending in ways they have never looked before.

How to enact these last classes? Review for the final exam? Open the discussion to learning achieved? Play Scrabble? Or just open up the room to Facebook?

When I taught High School I used to use the final class of the year—or the final classes before holiday breaks—as a time for hootenanny. I would play guitar and sing old lefty folk songs and while away the social time with politics. I don’t think I fooled anyone but myself.

And now it is another end of the semester, and I am puttering about trying to look busy, accomplished and important. I don’t think I’m fooling anyone, not even myself.