The First Day of the Rest of My Life

. . . will be tomorrow.

Today I am turning in my term paper for English 678, returning my NIU library books, and attending the last class session of my Master's degree.

Today is Jack's last day at Theresa's house, the babysitter who has watched him since he was four weeks old.

In a couple of weeks I will begin to teach 8th American History for the first time.

On that same day, I will begin to teach college Composition as an adjunct instructor for the first time.

In a couple of weeks, my three-year-old will start at a new babysitter's house.

At the end of this month, he will begin attending preschool, where he will have his first cubby, his first nametag, his first teacher.

I am leaving behind the known world. Here goes nothin'.

Grace Paley

At the first meeting of my new class, "American Literature since 1960," we read "A Conversation with my Father" by Grace Paley. Oh my goodness! Her prose is so spare, so compact, so forthright, so clear, yet so dense that a group of graduate students continued uncovering meaning for a solid hour. From a four-page story. I went the following week and used my birthday money to buy her short-story collection "Enormous Changes at the Last Minute." Hello, new friend.