I’ve just realized that the subjects I’ll be teaching this semester are related to my two primary loves: reading and writing. On Mondays and Wednesdays (6:00 to 7:30 PM) I’ll teach Introduction to Creative Writing to English and Education majors, while on Tuesdays and Thursdays (also 6:00 to 7:30 PM) I’ll teach Introduction to Literature to mixed majors.
I went over my “salvaged” handouts from college and started picking the necessary documents. Bikol literature is also included in the syllabi, so I’ve squeezed in some extra readings to match the objectives.
While I was sorting the dusty papers I couldn’t help but become nostalgic. Pigments of powdered ink were starting to fade on some articles while a number of papers were starting to crumble like those ancient texts found in some old, dying library.
I found it quite amusing to see my earlier notes which were written within margins and other available, if not penetrable, space. Some were already hard to decipher, while some sounded really, really juvenile and outright pretentious (hey, college days and all).
What my students from Creative Writing said during the first day:
- I am afraid to write.
- I do not like writing.
- I’m not much of a writer.
- I hate writing.
Oh God, more work for me.
Third meeting (same class), I was quite disappointed over the fact that only four out of nineteen submitted their assignments.
Penalty: More readings and a long quiz. Passive aggressive?
Patience, Jay. Patience.
[Update] I was informed just last Monday that I have a third class. I’ll be teaching Introduction to Literature to ten students, all Nursing majors, graduating.
This should be interesting.