Mornings are my bliss time. I lull myself to sleep with profound, though demanding, theological text and audio files. In the morning I feel refreshed after the initial angst of remembering the nights, dueling in dream-mares... That surreal evening of half wakefulness inside images of no clear message, yet brooding emotions.
In the morning breakfast is always welcome, despite its simplicity. In the morning dressing is a fresh start, and a chance to create a color theme for the day. In the morning I can enjoy a sparkling podcast and feel the message. I am an information junky and my AM fix feels the most invigorating.
Today I will rendezvous with a friend. These interludes pull me through the energy drop as I teach. A drop due to the nemesis of a pathology, insisting on improvisation without a full armory of weapons. There is in my methodology a belief in student-centered pedagogy, yet the demands of this wish would mean far more attention to detail, to distinguish one student, one class, one university in the mental mix of my day.
My mind is as a dinosaur, as student 'need and opinion' is processed, there is a time lapse, between the experience and its processing. I miss diagnosing one student's need into the face of another, a jumble of emotional impressions and pedagogical solutions.
For years I have developed elaborate systems of administration. Lists and teacher diaries, attempts at identifying needs and directing lessons. These experiments in analysis and solution stuff my draws and filing systems. Is there a final solution? Or is it simply a state of endless anxiety... a painful process, chasing the needs of the classroom with my dwindling human resource of energy and mental alertness.
Back to the firing line... aligning my sites and practicing my marksmanship.