process · slowing down

final stretch

 

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I know I am in the final stretch of a semester when I am posting photographs of flowers in my yard.

It does not mean there isn’t work before me. Indeed, I am still prepping for courses and just graded three more papers.

It does mean that things are slowing down for a while before they speed up once more and then it’s over. For a while.

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I had time yesterday to make strawberry and date muffins. They came out quite well. Here’s a close up of the strawberries.

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I even made time over the holiday weekend to paint on found wood. All this while taking a deep breath after Alabama’s loss to Auburn.

I was reminded again of how in order to win, one must truly honor the process about which Nick Saban speaks. That process includes losing – sometimes.

While I see how things go tonight for our time (Freudian slip. I meant to type “team,” but our time is definitely something about which I am concerned), I’ll continue to cheer for Miami and Bama.

Meanwhile, I’ll also keep enjoying shared moments with some pretty incredible students. Next week, I get to hear beats created by the “Bebop to Hip Hop: Young America and Music” students. It is the last time I am teaching this class so I will listen attentively and treasure the moments. It is not an easy class to teach for many reasons including the varied tastes, but also the social climate surrounding us. The music that brings us escape also reminds us of what still needs to be worked through. Sometimes it is easier to return to a period of time – the antebellum period – where we at least know how things turned out (i.e. the Civil War) and how much progress we have made alongside the ongoing need for change.

Postscript: On my way in to campus, I noticed my car was leaning. I have a slow leak in a tire. I am not always sure I know how to put air in my tires. Shame on me. Anyway, I pulled into a gas station and the woman behind the counter was happy to help me. “My dad was in the military and he made sure all of us girls knew how to take care of ourselves,” she said as she walked me to my car. And then she turned to me, “And there’s also this: we women have got to stick together.” She sure made my day and it’s still in progress. I gave her a tip even though she said she didn’t need one. That our social backgrounds were different meant little in that moment. This is also the world in which we live and I, for one, will keep having faith that things will get better.

 

 

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