It’s that time of year. That time of year when the final few weeks of a sixteen week semester marks the beginning of some student’s sudden concern over their grade. I don’t really have any complaints about my students, there a good lot of young adults, and being young adults they’re prone to bouts of irresponsibility now and again. For that matter, young adults don’t have the market cornered on bouts of irresponsibility.

“Bouts” aren’t generally an issue, after all, one bout of diarrhea, although unpleasant for all involved, isn’t generally a major concern with excessive long-term negative consequences. Other than, perhaps prompting the immediate shift of your favorite white Levi 501s from the “looking snazzy in school” pile to the “only wear while shoveling coal in the dark of night” pile. I’ll chalk that one up to divine intervention, protecting me from excessive photographic evidence that I once was the proud owner of white jeans.

Over the course of the next week or so, I will generally get a couple of emails from students stating, “I see that I have an “F” in your class. Is there anything I can do to raise my grade?” Some instructors are greatly annoyed by these emails, I happen to find them entertaining, and will type out my response with a smile, “Yes, I also see that you have an “F”, so we are in agreement. Myself, and the rest of the class, have missed you greatly over the past 14 weeks. Swing by and see me and we’ll chat about your grade.”

If they overcome their 14 week bout of irresponsibility, and bother to stop by my office, I will accept any and all late assignments they turn in. If they don’t bother, neither do I. The majority do bother, and the majority own up to their bout of irresponsibility. I think, and I could be wrong, that allowing a student to rectify such a bout can be a positive learning experience for them, and hopefully will serve to prevent the bouts from becoming chronic.

Chronic anything is generally a bummer. Chronic bedwetting, chronic pain, chronic constipation, chronic whining about the chronic pain from chronic constipation, chronic flatulence…okay, that last one has some entertainment value. Chronic happiness in the face of someone chronically whining about the chronic pain from their chronic constipation won’t win you any friends, but then who wants chronically constipated friends…they’re like ticking time bombs.

I’m not sure where I was headed with all this lowbrow talk of bodily functions? If I never got sidetracked, I’m not sure if I’d ever move.

The holidays can bring about both bouts of laughter and tears. Laughter, as we visit and spend time with friends and family, and tears, as we think of friends and family that are no longer with us. By “no longer with us” I’m not referring to those that moved to Canada after the election.

As the holiday season marches on, my wish for you is that your bouts of laughter outnumber your bouts of tears (and chronic constipation…avoid fruitcake). Speaking of fruitcake and laughter, I’d like to wish my mom, a chronically witty and creative woman that is always good for instigating a bout or two of laughter, a happy birthday.

Happy Holidays my friends.