First day of classes today, and I have what is either the most brilliant schedule ever conceived (given that I'd be teaching four classes regardless), or the worst: I teach Tuesday/Thursday. Period.

Yes, this does mean that I'm teaching for nearly six hours on both of those days (two classes back-to-back in the morning; a break of an hour and a half; two back-to-back in the afternoon). And yes, I do foresee serious damage being done to both my feet and my vocal chords. But it also means that I'm only on campus two days a week, that I have one fewer day of my extraordinarily hellish commute, and that I have a blessedly long weekend, every weekend.

So we'll see. I think it will be good. I'm someone who is happier with big blocks of time in which to grade, read, or write, rather than a few hours here and a few hours there--even if putting together those blocks of time results in my busy days being EXTREMELY busy. I'm also someone who likes to work at home (although, now that I think about it, I've never had a real office--I share this one with another lecturer who teaches alternate days and who has taken over the, er, decorative responsibilities for the place). I'm also hoping that, once the job market plays itself out, I'll actually be able to dedicate one day a week to my own writing.

And you know, although I was really dreading coming to campus today, now that I've taught two of my four classes and met my students, I'm getting pumped about my courses--all of which are more or less in my field, and two of which I'm teaching for the first time. There's something so lovely about the way the academic schedule is full of both new beginnings and (blessedly) regular endings.