This is me, in bed, marking student papers. It's difficult to tell if the sun is setting or rising. On the other hand, it is evident that my work has turned me into a no-life zombie. This week mea culpa was scheduling all three writing courses to turn in first drafts of their 5-page essay assignments on Monday. Mea maxima culpa, however, was scheduling writing conferences with students from all three classes for Wednesday through Friday. It has been a relatively mind-numbing experience to read and comment coherently on 20 (generally incoherent) papers per day and then to meet with the students who committed these works of art and try to genially talk them into their various tailored revision plans.I am surviving. Though I confess that I might skip my daily Visine and hair-straightening routine tomorrow morning and wear my purple pajamas in to work just to scare my students. And now I can proudly say that I know even more intimately the powers of stubborn fortitude and assiduous stupidity (er, stupid assiduity?) of that mysterious creature the writing adjunct. My main concern is this: is it weird, or somehow creepy, to grade papers in bed?
