Carping the diem

Interesting to try to write a few lines while my students tap away at their computers here in the bowels of Australian Catholic Uni in North Sydney, as we near the end of the southern sojourn: this is the first of the two final exams I am giving like a good little soldier of the University Writing Program, and as usual I kick myself for not having done X or Y or having done Z instead of W. 

One thing that is good of course is that I did squeaky-wheel enough to secure this computer classroom (hatefully Windows-ish though it might be) for my little end-of-term activities.  I think I have successfully parsed these last few days out well enough that the kidlets have enough to do but not too much at the very end.  I have never been less in the mood to hear their bellyaching, I must admit, especially since I am pretty sure I have done my very last 3-year merit review before retirement.  This means that I will have neat typescript to read, instead of Today's Students' Bad Penmanship, the successful deciphering of which has always been a source of perverse pride for me.

That said, I always like to feel decent about what I have done, and in many respects I do--to the point where I actually have mentioned the possibility of an Inverness reunion for this crew next quarter, something that I frankly have never felt like even entertaining with previous groups I've had abroad.  Sure, if I could select a subset I might well have a couple of dozen from 2009-10-11, but no way would I have wanted the whole group of any of those years.  But this cohort--I could see it.  With the adding-by-subtraction at midquarter, it's a pretty congenial bunch of people who mostly seem to like each other--in stark contrast to what I have seen from some of the other groups that this agency is hosting here in Sydney.

It'll be interesting also to see how my exit interview goes with the people who organize on this side: what they get from me is likely not to be the most cheerful little earful, as I have found about five things that really have stuck in my craw and / or my students'.  Some of it may be style, but some of it most definitely is substance, and I am really hoping I can Keep My Temper when I do try to air some of these concerns.  In retrospect it is easy to see some of the shoulda-coulda-wouldas, but there are also some plain old mismanagement issues that I didn't realize would loom so large.  Very odd.

Of course, my temper has been frayed unexpectedly on the homefront by construction noise from the apartments upstairs, unthinkably loud and relentless, sort of like living inside an industrial blender filled with cement chunks.  I am not exaggerating here--the construction is steel-reinforced concrete, and there've been "Kangas" (smallish jackhammers) working from 8 to 5 for the last week, completely gutting the place, including the tiles on the floor and walls and balconies.  Today as I wrapped up the final exam prompt before skedaddling (I'd swum at Balmoral in the gray overcast, then retreated to a cafe to scribble after changing), the symphony was interleaved with gigantic sledgehammer blows as walls came down, and the balcony shook as debris was sent down the chute at the other end.  No matter how hot and muggy, our windows and screen doors are closed because of the dust--but there is good news: the rapacious folks at the rental agency are supposedly going to forgive our last three nights' rent that we otherwise would be paying for (there was a minimum 90 day stay requirement in the fine print, and we are leaving for New Zealand next Wednesday).  Not that anyone passed along to us the news that this construction was imminent, or that most of the inhabitants were finding alternative arrangements (like living in a steel mill, for the quiet).

So yeah--as if the 14-year-old punk isn't enough, we've had "tradies" to deal with starting at 7AM (though they are not allowed to "make noise" until 7:59).  Grim.  OK.  No pictures on this one (for some reason the ACU wifi has crapped out so I am typing on a Dell), but I will get more done tomorrow perhaps.  As soon as I collate all the chillun's e-mailed versions I will hustle my heinie back to Mosman High to catch Alex in another performance, this one without the high production values....