Tirebiter and the Winds of Change (or Change of Wind), by George LeRoy Tirebiter XII

The sleep apnea’s getting more severe—I think that’s the worst of it. It’s something I’ve been able to more or less control for a number of years, but I’m nodding off more and more, and not just because I’m boring the crap out of myself.  I’ll see if I can get some treatment over spring break.

I had a nice moment during office hours today—I’ll get to it. It stems from our department’s current major basket-weaving project, a subset of basket-weaving that isn’t my specialty, but I’m finding myself more and more immersed in it, since our department is putting together a graduate program in this kind of basket-weaving. The project has unearthed a few concerns, which I’m having trouble articulating except in a place like this.

So the project is a kind of basket-weaving that the participants devise over a period of weeks and then present, and it’s never been my thing, exactly. And I’m not in a position anymore where I could just say, well, I admire the concept, but it’s not my kind of basket-weaving, or I’m not the intended basket-weaving audience—I pretty much have to cheerlead for it. I’m learning some of the vocabulary, but I’m not sure my heart is in it. And I’m starting to worry a bit that our department is going to break its arm patting itself on the back with regard to how “courageous” this kind of basket-weaving is. Some of it really is courageous, and some of it is kind of… basket-weaving wanking, I think. (I suppose there is some courage involved in wanking, at that.)

I find myself at a great loss in terms of how to explain it or put it in context for the non-basket-weaving majors, and yet there may be a key—remember that “nice moment” I mentioned 215 words ago? A non-major from my intro to basket-weaving lecture course expressed concerns about giving a written response to the project, since the project confused her. My admission was pretty simple: “You’re not the only one, sweet cheeks.” (For the record, I did not really say “sweet cheeks.”) I assured the student that she didn’t have to get the details “right” or “wrong”—most of it was perception and opinion. We talked through a few of the basics of the project that I knew about, and we came to some plausible conclusions. “That was very helpful,” she said. “Thank you.”

Lately, I’ve been feeling not quite part of the basket-weaving team—more like I’m “basket-weaving adjacent.” I can take steps to improve that. But a word or two like that from a student who really wants to take intro to basket-weaving seriously—it’s something. Some of my other students, who get most of their philosophy from Pixar (as do I, I must readily admit), tell me to “just keep swimming.” I’ll do that, too.

Finally, I read a Yaro piece—something about a goodbye party thrown by his grateful and loving colleagues and former students. It was sweet.