Today is payday. Perhaps I shouldn’t publish that in case someone thinks this would be a profitable time to hack my account. But lemme tell ya, I’m a poet and adjunct English professor, y’ain’t gonna get much.

But still, I do it—I adjunct. My students sometimes show, sometimes turn in work, never turn on their Zoom cameras, and rarely talk. But I am there everyday, camera on, ready to talk. When they schedule conferences and don’t show up, I reschedule. When they miss deadlines by weeks, I take the paper. When I would rather do something—anything—other than teach my class, I teach my class.

Devotion, as I feel it in the loop between my heart and gut, is a purposeful, emotional investment. An enthusiasm. You can be committed to something you don’t like. You can be dedicated to something you kind of like. But you have to love something to be devoted to it.

Am I devoted to my job? No. Am I devoted to my students? No. Am I devoted to teaching? Maybe.

I am devoted to bringing what’s hidden to light to finding connections between the seemingly unconnected to making the ordinary extraordinary. Right now, the only way I know how to do that is through teaching English and lit—and I am committed, perhaps dedicated, for one more week. But I think I hear a new melody.