Thirteen classes taught.
Twenty-two oral arguments listened to and critiqued.
On August 18, the night before classes began, I couldn't imagine getting to this night. A night of freedom. The hardest parts of my job are behind me. All that remains is to grade the briefs, two of which are done.
In many ways, this time has flown by, or at least the latter part did. To think that Michael Phelps was on television winning gold medals when I started teaching helps put this in perspective. That seems like eons ago.
But I didn't get to this point on my own. Many prayers were answered. Prayers for health, protection, wisdom, words, and stamina. And I learned more than I could have imagined. Not just about teaching but about myself. Things that I'm sure I wouldn't have learned unless I went through this ordeal.
I appreciate all the encouragement you have given me and all the prayers that have been offered on my behalf. They supported me and carried me.
And now, I place my "professor" title on a shelf to collect dust, and I relax in the freedom that comes from fulfilled requirements and a job that's done.