What Professors Do During the Break

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Last year for Christmas, I came down with Norvovirus and spent a miserable break between the two ultimate holidays of the year. In talking with other professors, this appears to be both common as well as easily explained. You see, we remain in constant contact with students, many of whom do not know they are sick, and we are under stress. At first the stress helps us, but when the semester fades so do we, finally succumbing to whatever bug they happen to pass. At least we can't say they never gave us anything, and there's plenty to share. In fact, many of us spend our breaks recovering from illness rather than lounging by the pool like many students seem to believe.

During the semester, we keep things under check as best we can. Like my desk at home, our lives become more difficult to keep tidy as the weeks wear on, but with the help of adrenaline, we soldier on and keep things in a controlled state of chaos. Once the stress of achievement wanes, we frequently weaken due to exhaustion and since our adrenaline drops without the urgent and important hubbub of academia to keep us in a state of constant agitation, we fall under the weather. Rather than recuperating in relaxation, we find ourselves seeking remedies and rest in order to reset for another term. I've been working a full load now for 3.5 years, and at my father's suggestion, insistence, and advice, I'm taking next summer off from teaching before I burn myself out, particularly before I learn to hate teaching.

The worst part of breaks isn't the colds and flu as much as it's the politics. They like to barrage us with emails even when we are off campus, forcing us to work. They like to change textbooks or course materials in such a way that we must prep new material in order to teach the same class. In my case, they like to assign me a potpourri of different courses every term to keep me in a constant learning curve or to deprive me at least of as much redundancy as possible. Most teachers have multiple sections of the same course. At most, I have two. Once I had zero. Somehow, I managed to only come unprepared for the right class once that spring, and I felt a sense of satisfaction at having kept that failure rate so low. There are meetings, bloody meetings, expectations, stupid expectations, and then there's jockeying for sections with people who are connected more than they are qualified while the best professors are slowly squeezed out in favor of boot-licking toadies.

During the break we all wonder how much longer we can do this. Many are close enough to retirement that they would welcome the chance if economics permitted or if they were terminated. I don't know if anyone does this for 30 years, and I don't think I could, which is why I'll take the summer off and see if I'm part of their long-term strategy. So far, I accepted Saturday courses, courses that created scheduling conflicts, last minute changes to my load, overload, and other things every time asked except for once hoping it would win me a place. I don't think that worked. We shall see.

This break, I hope I won't be sick either with a cold or with the culture of higher education. I will thank God for the chance I had these past few years to meet fine people and change perspectives. I will mourn the loss of friends made and opportunities missed by those I met and knew and loved. Most of all, I will miss my Kat. Particularly this time of year, we reflect on what we have. I know my ancestors would gape in awe at my affluence, and I think my paternal grandfather looks down with approbation. Like Thomas More told Richard Rich, he thought I should be a teacher, and with all due humility, I'm pretty good at it too. Maybe after this break I'll be ready to do it again and do it well.