Grief is a strange creature. It rears its head when you least expect it, and it hangs around in ways that you could never have imagined. Its appearances can be logical, but they don’t always have to be. Sometimes grief only pokes its head out to greet you, and then other times it feels like its lying on your chest trying to smother you.
I hate it.
Last week was my first time teaching my own college class. I’ve guest lectured and I’ve worked with high school, elementary school, and preschool students, but college is a different animal. Overall, I think that it went very well—most of the students seemed to be engaged, and I had quite a few really get into the topics. I’m ecstatic that my teaching wasn’t an utter disaster. But there’s that bit of grief that hangs in the back of my head reminding me that…
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