Tomorrow I have my first class as a university seminar teacher. I am being trusted to get twelve first year undergraduates through the first of the four core courses they need to pass in order to get their degrees. I will have to teach them how to write academic essays, how texts can manipulate them, how to decipher the coded messages we all receive every day. From me they will have to learn how to learn at university level: how to make the most of lectures, summarise the books they read, and form coherent arguments of their own. Not all of them will be doing this in their first language because some of them are overseas students. How I feel sorry for them all. But I need the job.
Meanwhile, I am still a student myself and just getting to grips with being back in the throws of work after a decidedly non-working summer. And I seem to have forgotten how to write. I still haven't mastered poetry and my prose, which once was good, is an abomination. I can feel my grades slipping.
The half bottle of wine I've just drunk probably isn't helping; is it just me or is it awfully warm in here?