I'm buried under a mountain of final papers and exams. Oh, about 90 of them by the end of the semester which is in about two weeks. I also have two students defending their MA theses this week and I only got the theses last week and weekend. When did MA theses become like dissertations? 153 pages, 4 chapters, a scholarly introduction and it will be longer when she adds all the footnotes she's missing. Oy, Gevalt!
Ok, that's enough for now. I must return to my little house built out of papers.
2 comments:
Feeling your pain. Feeling it bad.
Just know that somewhere out there, we're all doing it. Shaking our heads at the goofy presentation of quotes. Muttering under our breaths -- hell, swearing out loud -- about underlined poem titles and play titles in quotation marks. Block that quote, block it, INDENT AND BLOCK IT, g*d-d%@##*t!
Sigh.
But every now and then you get a real beaut, and it's just so darn gratifying. Read one today about Milton (PL) and Carew's "The Rapture." (Things that make you go ooh).
Hang in there.
Thanks, C. I will! Here's to the nearly-end-of-the-semester.
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