Swan Song Thursday

It’s Thursday.
Not just any Thursday; I deem this day as Swan Song Thursday.

Tuesday was my last day teaching composition and tonight was my last night teaching speech.
I found out on Tuesday night; the two classes I was supposed to teach next week were taken away because someone deemed my four degrees, six years of teaching experience, and writing credentials unworthy of teaching 100-level undergraduate composition and speech classes. What was acceptable last week is now considered null and void.

So, I packed up the cubicle farm and after 9:00 p.m., I called it a day. I really would have liked a true swan song—at least a month’s notice to fulfill my last teaching assignments. Instead, I get bitten and the proverbial rug is pulled out from under my feet.

And then I remember, swans can be mean.
Not the people I worked with and worked for—I love my academic family. It’s not my supervisors who caused this or necessarily the main office. It’s the cold, calculated swans who believe in numbers and dollars and cents and bureaucracy. It makes absolutely no sense to me.

But, swans are unpredictable.
And so is the life of an expendable adjunct.