I haven’t taught a class since the Summer of 2005. I semi-taught a class last summer and another this fall, but both were canceled before I could get going.

So today I taught for the first time (for real) in almost two years. While I was InterimDirectorofWhatever, my Dean didn’t want me to teach. Now that I am AssociateProfessorandDirectorofWhatever, I have to teach. I can’t get tenure otherwise. I didn’t want to teach for my return engagement in WhateverProgram, despite my being in charge of it, because the courses are especially challenging to teach. So I graciously (well, I quibbled over the number of students that could enroll) accepted a chance to teach in my PreviousDepartment. It wasn’t my Department really. They never let me all the way in the door. I was a (dum dum) lecturer. No status. No job security. The same four classes over and over again. Still, when the chair of PreviousDepartment called and offered me one of those very four classes, I said, “yes.”

So, today I went to teach it. Truth be told, I prefer to teach three days a week for 50 minutes. It’s easier to be cute for 50 minutes. Here I am teaching twice a week for 75 minutes. Those extra 25 minutes are a killer.

It’s a course on gender. I did my usual ice breaker of having everyone say “breast” and “penis” out loud so that they won’t be nervous later when we talk about menstruation and genital mutilation. Sounds uplifting doesn’t it?

It’s a fun class, though, some of the tougher topics aside. I’ll be fine. But today I didn’t feel so fine. My jokes felt flat; my syllabus overview felt mean. Because it’s a prime-time class, there were seven people who wanted to add and stood around the perimeter. Ah, the joys of state education.

I need to re-establish my comfort-level in the classroom. Self-deprecation, wit (such as I have it), and deep breathing will all help. Maybe I should do some shout-outs of “breast” too.

Or maybe not.

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