This weekend, TW and I are flying out to Denver, where I'll be attending and blogging the League for Innovation in the Community College conference. It's my first 'roving reporter' gig, which I think means I have to buy a brown fedora and a tan trenchcoat. (Any regular correspondents or commenters who plan to be there and want to arrange a meetup, shoot me an email!) I'll be posting my reports on my IHE site, so readers who usually read me on my original site will have a chance to check that out.
We're both excited about the trip. Neither of us has ever been to Denver, and it will be our longest spell away from the kids since TB was born.
The preparations are worthy of a military mission.
The grandparents will watch the kids: first my Mom, then her parents. Since TB has school and CCD next week, and TG has preschool, we have to write down every little detail of each routine with almost Taylorist precision. Bedtimes, foods, rituals, clothes, tv rules, and the like have to be explained with great care, since TB and TG are remarkably adept at exploiting any ambiguity in their own favor. We'll also need to adjust our daily schedule to allow for plenty of phone time.
I've even updated our will, and drafted a letter authorizing the grandparents to make medical decisions for TB and TG during our trip. It's kinda morbid, but one never knows.
And that's before trying to deal with the rules about flying, and luggage, and getting to the airport at least a week before the flight in order to allow time for the body cavity searches, and the confiscation of any suspicious contact lens fluid or signs of independent thought. I shudder to think what the screeners will do to my poor, innocent laptop, or how long we'll have to sit on the runway so our lateness won't affect their 'on time' statistics.
But it'll be good. TW and I have been badly short of alone time, and I'm looking forward to finding out what's going on at cc's in other states and regions.
Where can a guy find a fedora these days?
In which a veteran of cultural studies seminars in the 1990's moves into academic administration and finds himself a married suburban father of two. Foucault, plus lawn care. For private comments, I can be reached at deandad at gmail dot com. The opinions expressed here are my own and not those of my employer.