Driving back out to the dirt road in late darkness around here, the public radio stations are almost always a wasteland, dominated by jazz by the very loosest of definitions and barely worth listening to mostly.

But tonight there was one good number anyway. The title of it was the title of this post. It was closer to hip-hop. The singer cataloged some of the problems of the modern world with an emphasis on the racial ones, and circled back to a refrain about how he’d rather not be singing about problems. Relatable.

In tonight’s class though I sang the song I pretty much did want to sing. I told them, “I hope this turns out to be your favorite class this term. Because it’s mine.”

Tomorrow I tackle the opener of the problem child class. I think I have a decent angle. The days are long, and so will be the weeks, but not entirely unhappy, because these may be my last as a prof. Or at least I am finding it very useful to think of them that way.

Maybe more about that. When I am relatively chill, over the weekend.