Two years ago as the pile of final projects and finals grew, my desire to grade plummeted. My friends Rick and Karen knew that I sometimes daydreamed about buying a new house. One night, they told me about an open house they'd just attended and encouraged me to look at the house. When they first suggested it, I didn't really consider looking at the house. After all, I lived in a perfectly fine home. It had its limitations, true, but there was a lot to love about
the house. With the help of family and friends, I'd managed to transform it into a more than livable space. The mint green shag carpet was gone. The walls were painted with colors I liked. The bathroom had new tile. I'd even grown fond of the quirky chandeliers in the breakfast nook and kitchen. Sure, I shared a driveway with my neighbors (which I hated) and my kitchen was small. Yes, the roof worried me . . . but I loved the sago palm (that someone once tried to steal, planning
to make off carrying a 6 ft. tall plant on his bike until my neighbor busted him), the plants, the location.
Still, as my grading loomed, I started looking at the MLS listings, noticing all the other cute homes in the neighborhood. It was a beautiful day, and the last thing I wanted to do was stay indoors with my grading. In a moment of weakness, I called a realtor and . . . to make a long story short, I put a bid on a house. Just like that. I didn't end up buying that particular house, but a week later I put a bid on another house . . . the house I live in today. I don't remember if I'd finished grading by that time . . . or if that decision, too, was influenced by grading avoidance. All I know is that every semester when the projects come in, I think about where I live.
And to my students who are reading this . . . this semester, I'm actually too busy to avoid grading. You shouldn't interpret this blog entry as being in any way influenced by grading avoidance. It has taken me all of 20 minutes to write this. And I'm returning to my pile of grading right now. Really.