I need to get back to posting soon, but there's something I've noticed in my office.
My plant wants to go home. More specifically, my plant wants this semester to end. I've always prided myself on not being one of those people who could tell you down to the last nanosecond how far into the semester it is. I had a colleague like that once: "It's week 6, and they're acting crazy, just as they always do," she'd say. I never knew what week it was, or, without looking at the syllabus, the date that the semester would end. But my plant knows.
Sure, the end of the semester is busy--isn't it always?--and I'm really pleased with how my students are doing. This should be a busy and a happy time, since they're doing good work. But the plant just sits there, wanting to be taken home, telling me through some kind of plant telepathy that we've only got a few weeks left and it is so done with this semester.
If it were me, I'd be embarrassed at how ready I am to pack it in and call the semester over with. But it isn't me. I'm pretty sure it's the plant.