So I’m teaching my summer course, right? It’s an intensive course, so it’s given every day. I answer endless emails, respond to dozens of comments (it’s an online course), and grade like crazy.
And, of course, the students keep moaning that I don’t praise them enough and don’t “celebrate their success.” These will be my last course evals before I put in for tenure, so obviously I want them to be good and act a lot more ingratiatingly than I normally do. It feels like all I ever do these days is repeat, like a broken wound-up doll, “Good job! Good job! Good good good good good job!”
So today I was talking to my contractor (a burly guy of a few years older than me) when all of a sudden I say to him in a scarily chirpy voice, “Good job on painting the room, Steve! Good job!”
He looked at me like I had gone dotty. And he was not that far from the truth. If this course doesn’t end soon, I will end up antagonizing the entire town.

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