Wednesday, August 9, 2017

Rusty


After three months of construction on the New Mexico place, it's hard to return to the world of letters and teaching that is my other life. Gold screws, tub saws, and belt sanders have been replaced by cursors and clicks. I find the digital directions of how to compose the new improved syllabi baffling and have trouble locating required materials on GoogleDocs. For some reason I am denied access, as if my time away has pissed off the machine in the same way it did my cat, Simone. But I have to crack the code out of necessity. Time to suck it up, chill, get my ass in gear, gird the cyber loins, and join my colleagues in the march toward foundational literacies. To do so, I may have to knock on some doors and speak with someone face-to-face. How irretrievably old school, clunky, and rusty I have become, tin man frozen mid chop.

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