a run of crazy dreams
The day before yesterday, I had a dream about time travel. Not all that unexpected, since I've had a couple of those lately (hmmm, I WONDER WHY).
But then last night I had an anxious classroom dream, which I haven't had since at least the middle of last term.
It was apparently the last class of the semester, and even though the class I was teaching for was something like the department's first half of the survey (which ends with Milton), we were doing Austen. Somehow I'd gotten it into my head at the beginning of the semester that we were doing Mansfield Park, but when I got to class, everyone had copies of Northanger Abbey. So now I hadn't prepared anything, and I didn't even have a book. So I ran to the library to get one, and I wanted to get one of the (three) editions I own, on the theory that that would make it easier to find quotes and things. Only it was impossible to find anything--I know where they keep the Austens in this library, but for some reason the call numbers (oh, and the library had inexplicably gone to Dewey Decimal even though in real life it uses Library of Congress, and also the call numbers for Austen were in the 700s, which makes no sense) were directing me to the basement, where I ran around and around, unable to find the books.
Finally I found them, after maybe a half an hour of searching, and grabbed a copy of Northanger Abbey. When I got back to the classroom, I found that the classroom had been double-booked and there were people setting up for some kind of event. So we had to sit on the floor in the back of the room. And then one of my advisors showed up to observe/teach with me (even though, obviously, Austen is not so much in her field). The rest of class went about as badly as you'd expect, with an added bonus that I really wanted to direct their attention to Henry Tilney's Gothic novel parody and his discussion of the word "nice," only no one, including my advisor, would listen to me. And then at the end, they left me evaluations in thick brown notebooks, with the grade they would have given me written in marker on the front. There were a lot of Ds...
Yes, I am still trying to rewrite my prospectus, why do you ask?
Also, a lot of my classroom anxiety dreams seem to involve not having a book. Which is probably the thing I'm *least* worried about in real life.
But then last night I had an anxious classroom dream, which I haven't had since at least the middle of last term.
It was apparently the last class of the semester, and even though the class I was teaching for was something like the department's first half of the survey (which ends with Milton), we were doing Austen. Somehow I'd gotten it into my head at the beginning of the semester that we were doing Mansfield Park, but when I got to class, everyone had copies of Northanger Abbey. So now I hadn't prepared anything, and I didn't even have a book. So I ran to the library to get one, and I wanted to get one of the (three) editions I own, on the theory that that would make it easier to find quotes and things. Only it was impossible to find anything--I know where they keep the Austens in this library, but for some reason the call numbers (oh, and the library had inexplicably gone to Dewey Decimal even though in real life it uses Library of Congress, and also the call numbers for Austen were in the 700s, which makes no sense) were directing me to the basement, where I ran around and around, unable to find the books.
Finally I found them, after maybe a half an hour of searching, and grabbed a copy of Northanger Abbey. When I got back to the classroom, I found that the classroom had been double-booked and there were people setting up for some kind of event. So we had to sit on the floor in the back of the room. And then one of my advisors showed up to observe/teach with me (even though, obviously, Austen is not so much in her field). The rest of class went about as badly as you'd expect, with an added bonus that I really wanted to direct their attention to Henry Tilney's Gothic novel parody and his discussion of the word "nice," only no one, including my advisor, would listen to me. And then at the end, they left me evaluations in thick brown notebooks, with the grade they would have given me written in marker on the front. There were a lot of Ds...
Yes, I am still trying to rewrite my prospectus, why do you ask?
Also, a lot of my classroom anxiety dreams seem to involve not having a book. Which is probably the thing I'm *least* worried about in real life.