Today is/was/will be kind of everything.

I turned in final grades.

There is really no feeling like the end of the semester. Even though parts of it are gut-wrenching, like making a decision between a D and an F for a student after four months of work, completing a term is a highly satisfactory experience. And this semester feels more complete than most. While the final week kind of imploded then exploded under jury duty, I taught some of my best students ever and experimented with approaches to grammar and composition that led to measurable and visible improvement in my students’ writing. Some semesters end on a question mark—Did I really do anything effective this term? Will they take anything with them?—this one ended on exclamation points. I taught some great lessons! They have become better writers!

And I exclaimed a few other things as well.

I put my daughter on a plane!

In just a few hours, my daughter will travel solo to visit with my sister in Denver before the family heads out on Friday. I am not really anxious about it—we will walk her onto the plane and she will be picked up on the concourse in Denver. The only time she is really solo is during the flight. Just 16 years ago, I couldn’t let myself be a room where I was not, and now she will be in another city without me. One step closer to the inevitable separation.

I interviewed for a job!

Interviews are rarely without significance. The prospect of a new position has all the feels. You might be casually looking a new opportunity or desperately seeking financial salvation. The job might be exactly what you’ve been looking for or it might be the only option you’ve got. Whatever the process, it’s terrifying to be judged and thrilling to show what you’ve got.

I’ve interviewed for jobs before, but not at moments so poised for magic, for change, for a new direction. Not during Mercedonius.

I interviewed for another job!

See above.

The Red Wheelbarrow by William Carlos Williams

so much depends
upon

a red wheel
barrow

glazed with rain
water

beside the white
chickens

Does the everything upon which so much depends have to be red? No, but it has to be noticed. And it will be everything.