terminaste! (casi)

Unless there's a quirk in the computer system, or unless our department's head office issues yet another correction to our attendance records (students hand in absence-excuse documents late sometimes), I... am... DONE. Done like a fuckin' turkey, is how done I am. All grades have been entered, all the attendance sheets have been reconciled—tout est en ordre. There's little left to do. Next week, we'll have a grade meeting, at which our director will give her seal of approval once she studies how well our grades have fit the school-sanctioned curve. After that comes the solemn campus ritual of the bizarrely named "final button day," on which day we come into the office, open our grade records, click a little check icon, and release our grades to the student population. Students will then have 48 hours to contact their professors and challenge their grades. Last semester was a nightmare for me; one "F" student sobbed and begged and texted and cajoled and did everything she could to manipulate me into giving her a passing grade (it's probably not kosher to reveal much more, so I'll leave it at that). Aside from her, though, the other kids were fine. I hope this semester goes more smoothly; as I did last semester, I've told my kids that I'm not inclined to change a grade once I've given it, so I'd better not hear the sad moaning of suffering hell-beings.

With just a few more hoops to jump through, summer vacation—albeit a truncated one because CU is booting my ass out early—is staring me in the face.


_