I don’t do summer vacation. Instead, I get four months to work mostly unencumbered by ridiculously large time chunks snatched out of my schedule by malicious professors. The work continues at roughly the same pace and with a somewhat improved level of efficiency because I don’t have to be anywhere as prescribed times of day. I call this “Summer Realignment.” I write, I work (for actual money), I work on projects (for imaginary money), I putter around the house, and read books nobody made me buy.
Of course, that was all well and good until I joined the ranks of said malicious professors, which happened at precisely one o’clock in the afternoon (Pacific Standard Time) on the second day of July, this year. Now, not only do I have to be somewhere for three hours and forty-five minutes twice a week, I also have to talk! And I have to be somewhere for another hour and a half afterward (something called “office hours?”) for a mysterious purpose my hapless students still haven’t quite figured out. Then there’s the preparation, which for each and every class period takes the better part of a day. All followed by the grading, which eats up monstrous periods of my weekend and is sometimes horribly depressing.
It’s kinda awesome. And I can’t wait to do it again.