past deeds unforgotten

I had a really nice day today, I had great meetings with my professors, I got a lot of painting done, I got to leave early and come home to see the family before everyone was exhausted, on the drive home I watched a country sunset complete with barns and haystacks, and when I stopped to pick up a pound of coffee for J., the market had free cubes of Wisconsin cheddar cheese out for sample. Yum.

The thing I think about the most though, is this weird little moment I had this morning before I drove out to school. I was teaching class this morning when a students asked about the grade they had received on their last test. I opened up my grade book and started to look up their grade when suddenly I realized that the projector had inadvertently been turned on and that my entire grade book was being projected IN FRONT OF THE ENTIRE F***ING CLASS. Oops.

I thought about it for a while after class, thinking about what had happened and about my own actions, ultimately, about my own culpability. I mean, potentially if could be bad. A disgruntled student could easily seize on this opportunity and raise a stink, but the truth is, the very instant I realized what was happening, I reacted, I corrected the problem and went on. Problem solved.

The whole incident lasted no more that a few seconds. Again, accidents happen. Sometimes accidents happen with very serious consequences. I don’t feel this is the case. Still, if someone ultimately complains, I am more than happy to admit I made a mistake. After all, what else can you do? I take responsibility because I am in charge. I realized there was a problem and I corrected it. You would think that might be the end of it.

Still, I continue to go over the sequence of events in my mind. At what point did the projector go on? At what point did I become aware of it? I realize now that I am not so much bothered by the fact of what happened as I am disturbed by the idea of it. It is painful to think about. It is like watching some horrible sitcom character make a social faux pas and feel yourself absolutely cringing knowing that what they are about to do is so horribly wrong and you are left there feeling completely powerless to stop it.

I can see the reel starting. The characters are set. The sequence of events unfolds. Nothing I can do will change the past. The past, after all is just the past. I remind myself of this over and over. No amount of thinking about it is going to change what happens. I tell myself, "Take responsibility and move on." Yet somehow, the dial on my inner television is broken. It only receives one channel: The channel of incalculable human error. Pitifully, I watch myself enjoy the madness of reliving my blunders.

Perhaps some part of me wonders whether if I think about it long enough, hard enough, I can actually undo these actions, or perhaps it is the anticipation of my own stupidity that keeps me glued to the screen of my inner mind. Regardless, as I say before, I keep reminding myself that the past is just the past. Actually that is one of the nicest things about the past. Honestly, let us all just hope it stays there.