Yesterday I walked down the hill to the faculty parking lot and dumped the books out of the tote bags and trudged back up the hill for another load. It turned out I had more crap in that office than I realized. It took four or five trips back and forth to clear everything out. Now my trunk is filled with a ton of loose books swimming around back there. Whenever I stop at a red light, I can hear them clunk to one side. I really need to empty the trunk out today.
In between cleaning out the office, I quickly skimmed my student evaluations. I didn't realize that the students knew that I wasn't coming back, because of the restrictions on non-tenure track professors. The evaluations were full of phrases like "best professor at X college" and "it's a travesty." Somehow that made me feel worse. Then I dropped off a recommendation at the career office and talked with a woman there about what to do with it. She looked surprised when she saw my name at the bottom of the letter. She said, "My son has been in two of your classes. You changed his life." That made me feel even worse.
However, I was incredibly relieved once that last bag of books was dumped. It has been a bitch to teach this semester, when I knew that I wasn't coming back and that if the job market stays this bleak, then it may be my last semester ever. It took too long to pull that band-aid off.
So, new chapter. I've got an APSA paper to do and I have to start book proposals. The porch needs to be repainted. The garage needs cleaning out. Maybe I'll paint that basement. I want to take the kids to the Transportation Museum this weekend and have friends over for beers. In the meantime, I think I'll read the blogs.