"... and all the exams were tied neatly with a bow ..."

If I had more of a penchant for doggerel, right around now I would probably be compelled to compose a ballad a la The Night Before Christmas along the theme of finishing my grading for the term and the general pre-Christmas feel here in the groves of academe.

And we should all breathe a sigh of relief that I am not, in fact, so poetically inclined.

But that being said, I can say with a massive sigh of relief that I am DONE for the semester. I just submitted all my final grades for my twentieth-century novel course, having spent yesterday and today ploughing through the exams that were written on Saturday evening.

Saturday exams? Evil. Saturday evening exams? Doubly so. But then, that particular timing does have the advantage of being ideal for a post-exam outing. Thus, I and a not-inconsiderable portion of my American novel students ventured down to the Duke of Duckworth for some well-earned pints.

For all the relief of being finished, I'm a bit sad ... I had two amazing groups of students this semester, and teaching was genuinely a joy. I never had the feeling I get for a few days once a term, usually toward the end, in which the thought of dragging myself into the classroom makes me feel like Sisyphus. Didn't happen this semester. Which has me worrying a bit about the other shoe dropping next turn.

As I sat here, getting toward the bottom of the stack of exams, I engaged in one of my favorite Christmas traditions, which is to listen to Dylan Thomas reading "A Child's Christmas in Wales." Given that I blogged at length about the Divine Dylan last year, I won't chew over any of my favourite phrases and locutions ... but I found the story provided an ideal backdrop for the last stage of my teaching duties this term, and the beautiful rich rolling Welsh accents putting me in in the perfect headspace to break for Christmas.

Perhaps tonight I shall watch How The Grinch Stole Christmas ...