Suddenly this morning I’m nervous about comps. As in: shaky hands, elevated heart rate, and a gut-wrenching nausea I haven’t felt since walking into a classroom to teach for the first time. It wasn’t even this bad in the minutes immediately prior to being handed the questions!

Waiting in lines is ok, because I can see whatever progress is or is not being made. Waiting for my mom is ok, because she’s the sort who’ll stop to smell the flowers even with a wildfire right behind her. Waiting for a class paper to be graded is even ok, because I know who is grading it and at least have a general idea of the rubric being used for evaluation, which means I have tailored my answers to the grader/rubric.

Truth is, I’m a wee bit of a control freak (like that’s news to most of you). In a class situation, I know I’ve done everything possible to control how my written assignments will be received — or, if not, I’ve not done it on purpose. This isn’t to say that I don’t screw up, because Dr. Van Fleet can certainly attest to that (her grade on my final paper last semester was more than generous) but generally speaking, when it comes to the written word, I’m pretty darn careful.

Careful attention to craft isn’t easy in a timed situation. I keep thinking of things I could have done differently: better logic, more applicable examples, a nicer turn of phrase. Normally I have most of that worked out in my head before I even start writing, but….

Intellectually, I know it’s out of my hands. Emotionally, though, I’m really kinda pissed because I also know that I’m capable of so much better.