the beginning of the end

Today is the first day of my last semester of coursework. I can’t wait to be finished with the coursework part. I actually don’t mind coursework and think I would prefer two more years of this instead of exams and a dissertation. Unfortunately, that’s not an option. I remember my first semester teaching after I graduated from the MA program. It felt so good to focus on teaching. It felt even better to be free of the stress that comes with coursework. I love in-class discussions. I do not love writing long academic papers. Although I have gotten better at it.
I am glad that I have another year before I’ll go on the job market. Things are so bleak out there. I am confident in my ability as a teacher. I’d hire me. I am not so confident in my ability to publish academic work, which is, evidently, one of the only ways to get hired for a full-time position.
I’ve also been anxious for a change of p(l)ace lately. Over the din of the drunken college students and the annoying new upstairs neighbors, I can still, just barely, hear the coyotes some nights. This is a comforting sound. It’s reminds me of home and puts me right to sleep. I think it might be time for a move. My lease is up in the spring. I am always keeping an eye on rentals. Nothing ever looks any better than where I live now, but maybe something perfect and affordable for me will come along. I’d like to spend my next two years in a place where it is quiet at night.

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