I had a nice day today: went for a sweet run, did some prep for my debut as Adjunct Professor of Ethics tomorrow night, painted some trim and walls, got a haircut for my professorial debut, did some more lecture prep, looked at a renovation job in the city, and picked my wife up from work. And on my way to get her, my cell phone rang. That class I’m teaching tomorrow night? Is was actually tonight. Crap.
Crap. Crap. I hate stuff like this: the brain spinning for an explanation, the guts churning for relief, the heart accusing its owner of malfeasanse. But what can you do? It was some kind of gross miscommunication with The Dean, whereby I was completely convinced that the thing was happening on Thursday, and he was totally sure it was happening on Wednesday. And we both knew that the other was in absolute agreement.
He was gracious about it, but I’m pretty sure that there is at least one administrator at the school who thinks I’m the devil. Not to mention the students, half of whom will show up (again!) tomorrow night to meet with their ethics professor, who will stand on thin ice and talk about the importance of attendance, class participation, honesty, moral standards and ethical examination. Should be fun.