Even after five semesters of teaching (and oftentimes making a fool out of myself in front of a captive audience that are my students), the simultaneous dread and anticipation of each incoming semester never leaves me. It is around the week before classes start when things around me become film reels undone - that unexpected course assignment, bumping into former students beloved and otherwise trying to fill their registration forms, co-teachers swapping vacation stories. As these are taking place, my mental reading lists are on working mode, figuring whether to repeat or discard previously-discussed literary texts. Or, if I'm feeling a little more adventurous than usual, a last-minute insertion of a reading that may prove to be either providential or just a total mess. Either way, the constant surprise my students generate with both exhilirating and exasperating readings and discussions are always a joy. As for me, I continue to surprise myself with each session. I'd like to think that my sense of wonder about things, however elusive it may seem at those times when I just want to bury my head under the pillow, never is and never will be gone.