Susan Senator

Growth and development are a mysterious and wonderful thing. Some things shoot right up. Others do not reach fruition until much later. Still others start going one way and find themselves starved for nourishment or light; whether they change their paths or not is the challenge for them.

I peaked early (married at 21, right out of college; first two children by age 29, old autism mom by 35). Then again, I am blooming very late. I will be starting a new job tomorrow, as an adjunct prof teaching English Comp. at a nearby university. I spent most of yesterday organizing and making notes. I took B with me to Staples and picked out all the wrong stuff. Organization material is not my strong point; I am much more of a write-it-on-the-back-of-an-envelope -and-stick-it-in-my-bag (but the bag must be gloriously gorgeous). So I bought two kinds of binders, and neither one is quite right. I sat there cutting up all these plastic dividers and punching new holes in them to make it all work, but nothing did. But doing so showed me what I really do need: lots and lots of pocket separator thingies. Or maybe a bigger bag?

I met with the director and the department chair and others last week, all very kind and helpful. The director of the program made a lot of template assignments and outlines so that there is a really clear path to follow, and yet he encourages adjuncts to be as creative as they want to be, as long as they hit the four requirements. I am going to be teaching three different kinds of essay, and so I am beyond excited. As you are probably aware, essays are my cup of coffee (I hate tea). (Ned tells me I have around 100 essay-type articles on my website now, and of course, so much more churning around in my feverish head.)

While downtown, I also got a feel for the campus, which is lovely. It is in one of my favorite parts of Boston: brick-lined narrow streets, old row houses, lots of hills, the State House. I can take the T there and be at work in 20 minutes.

The best part of this job is the job. I can’t believe I get to teach at a university. This is what I came to Boston for, 23 years ago, fresh out of graduate school. But back then I thought I was going to teach history, and I could not get a job anywhere. Little did I know I was a writer, not a historian. Thank God Ned said, “You want to write? Just write.” Then I found my way, followed my heart, and here I am. I guess it’s really a matter of finding the perfect topic. And the right bag.