Today marks the first day of the fall semester and the official start of my time as a real, live MFA student. I'm excited, despite the fact that I don't actually have any classes on Wednesdays. That didn't stop me from waking up at 6:30 (even though I didn't go to bed until 1AM), writing 1,000 words of a new story (crap, but aren't all beginnings?) and figuring out what to do with the class I'm teaching tomorrow afternoon.
Did I say teaching? I did! I was lucky enough to snag a spot as a teaching assistant and this semester I'm co-teaching Introduction to Creative Writing along with 12 other TA's. The class meets twice a week - once in a large group a lecture led by the professor, and then again in groups of ten, one of which I'll be solely in charge. I will be facilitating discussions, running workshops and grading my students. It sounds both thrilling and terrifying, and I can't wait to start.
The class I teach tomorrow is actually the first one I'll attend in my MFA career. After that class, I have my class about teaching, to which I am also looking forward. I'll have to wait until next week to see what my fiction workshop and lit class are all about (if a hurricane doesn't wipe us away first, that is) and I'm also really, really excited about those. Are you seeing a theme here?
I was on the phone with my mom a few days ago and she was remembering how, every year on the last day of school, all the kids were thrilled to be done for the summer and celebrating their freedom. Not me. I got off the bus sobbing, because I loved school so much and didn't want it to end.
Some things never change.