I'm not teaching next semester for various reasons; I'm heartbroken. I feel like I'm leaving something sacred before I fully understand its holiness and potential.

Yesterday as I looked at my students slumped over their computers, wishing the day, the semester, their time in college was over I teared up and had to turn back to the whiteboard and pretend that everything is fine and that I don't care and I won't miss it. But I will.

I have to remind myself that this is the perfect note to end on. I love my students; this class is almost dreamy, and I've been teaching my own invention. Gratifyingly, it has gone very very well.

I would do a few things differently: I would start with a small essay that I don't grade. Then we would work on the analysis and spend far less time on it (three weeks, max). Then we would have library days and the ruminative essay--before they're burnt out and before they can cop out of the short essay. Give them the big one while they still have energy left. The last major assignment, before the portfolio, would be the short essay--then they can have fun and incorporate more research and have a little better grasp on the essay itself. Why do I harp on these things?

Not teaching is better for my family (which is why I'm doing it) and my sanity (which is an added bonus). I want to believe I can do everything, but it seems my limitations close in daily. Plus, if my health continues in the direction it has been, I don't know that I'll be doing much at all. Maybe relaxing (okay, I'll still have two classes, the reading series, and my thesis defense--plus real life: Wesley, Levi, and moving to wherever we go to grad school--pray for Boston and MIT friends!) isn't a good idea in that context.

Can you get an immunization for hyper-emotionality?

If anyone asks, I'm fine. Thanks.