Recently, I’ve been thanking my lucky stars for the cooler weather. My office window faces the sun in the morning, and, when it’s over 25 degrees, I get real sweaty. Teaching, in any context, always gets me warm, so, in summer, it turns into a real pain. I just wear black every day, like the hermit vampire I’ve become over the last 18 months. It’s sunny today, though, and, up in my artist’s garret, I’m already starting to feel restless.
When it’s cloudy, I also don’t feel like I’m missing out too horrendously by not being outside. I’ve been slaving away at drafting the 10,000 words necessary for the translation side of my MA dissertation (although I’ve done around 12,000 now, so I can cut out my worst chapter). Since It’s historical fiction, I’ve been burying myself in all the unread historical fiction I’ve got laying around in English and I now have a newfound respect for the genre, if that’s even possible since I’d already developed a massive respect for it through writing my own this spring.
We’re also busy squirrelling away at the new Educator’s Guide for the next issue of Asymptote, which I’m really excited about. There’s a couple of blog posts in the wings, there, too. It was my first time designing a lesson plan around a poem, so I’m just real jazzed that no-one else on my team thought it in need of a complete overhaul.
I get the itch to write for myself, but all my creative energies are being swallowed by my dissertation. My tutoring work has also gone quieter, so I’ve been busy doing job interviews for new companies. Tutoring is a catch-22 situation. You can choose between good pay, no support and an extremely unreliable schedule, or a reliable schedule, bad pay and some support. Completely freelance students don’t come along very often, and I don’t work to any pre-ordained plan there. Which is both freeing and daunting. However, the majority of my work this year has been through agencies.
However, if you work for a tutoring organisation, don’t expect to get paid much more than if you were stacking shelves at Tesco. Not that there’s anything wrong with stacking shelves at Tesco. I worked in McDonald’s for two years as my first job, and it was a well-deserved education from my cushy couch contemplation into this cutthroat capitalist world we live in and have to somehow adapt to. However, tutoring is extremely skilled labour which is paid like unskilled labour. And you can forget the time you spend planning for and messaging each student, writing down your plans, organising their progress and your schedule, booting up your laptop, opening all your tabs, reading through the materials and opening Zoom and waiting for them. That stuff isn’t paid. So then 12 euros an hour starts to feel more like 10, at which point I could clean tables in Extrablatt and expect just as much.
And self-translation. I’ve been working on my piece in German for this year’s Specimen translation competition. I posted the draft a few days ago. I’ve updated the draft since then, because writing is never finished. Now I have to provide an English translation of it for the judges. I’ve never translated myself before, and certainly not from my second language into my first. I feel like It’s just going to end up with me editing both versions eternally and simultaneously, noticing flaws in one which I change in the other, like a dog chasing its own tail.