ABSTRACT
One hundred and fifty students, not the normal two hundred and fifty, a concession to the fact that this is my first semester here, my first time teaching as a tenure-track assistant professor, not an instructor. The difference is that now I have my PhD. Is that a difference that makes a difference to how the students see me? Walking to the front of the class, down the steep stadium-styled steps of this three hundred plus-seat auditorium, I choose the aisle nearest to the doors, not the middle one where I would have to walk between the students that surround me. Back straight, eyes level with the podium, slow, deliberate pace, and shoulders pulled back; all physical sleights of hand to hide the clenched stomach, sweaty palms, and held breath that I hope doesn’t show. I reach the front, drape my coat over the chair, retrieve my notes from my bag, skim them, and then finally turn to face the students.
