Night Crazies

Since we last spoke I've been in a holding pattern.  I submitted my visa application and have nothing else to do until, at some point, I am presented with a choice of housing (I think?  I feel like I'm constantly asking questions, so I'm just gonna sit tight on this).  I do mostly fine during the day but when I lie down at night, waiting for sleep to come (which is not a guarantee) I get a feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach.

Which is why I'm here writing at 12:30 am.  I've decided that when the doubt starts creeping in, I'm just going to get up and start cleaning.  Despite a yard sale, a massive charity donation, and various and sundry small purges, I still have crap I need to get rid of, so I got to work on some of it.  Then I sat down and tried to cobble together my syllabus (for the semester? The whole year? We'll see what gets done) using my lousy e-textbook (I have only been dealing with this thing for a couple weeks and I already have about 80 suggestions for the publisher on how not to make a piece-of-shit textbook) and short-story suggestions I'm getting from my friends.  I find this prospect very difficult because I have no idea where my kids will be, prior-knowledge-wise; I get the feeling talking to my academic dean that I need to lower my expectations.  I don't want to think that my students aren't smart, but I know the cultural divide and language barrier can be a lot, so I keep re-calibrating what I think I can expect.

I miss teaching, even though I've only been out for a month or so.  I feel comfortable in planning a year, units, lessons, assignments.  I'm not afraid to go (which I find unsettling; only a neurotic person would worry about not being worried), I've just reached a point where I don't want to.  It's normal, I guess.  A friend told me to embrace all the tears, the sadness, the homesickness because it's all part of the process and I've earned it.  I think she's very wise, and I'm trying to do just that, but maybe not every single night.