Dr. Copeland, I can't find my article, so I'll just post it here for you to find eventually:

New year, new classes, new books: thus the cycle begins again with a clean slate on which to make our mark as a student. With high hopes and expectations, we enter the class room and take our seat at the head of the class, anticipating the new knowledge to come. And then, it happens. The professor begins to speak…and he (or she) communicates exactly how he feels about the class. He hates the material. He tells you quite plainly that the material to be covered in class is not something he enjoys.
Are professors trying to identify with us as they announce that they hate their job, the job they’ve chosen to do every single day? I never understood this phenomenon of professors who claim to hate what they do; why do they do it?
This past weekend I came across this quote from Herm Albright: A positive attitude may not solve all your problems, but it will annoy people enough to make it worth the effort. I’ve always found it easier to learn from those professors who are enthusiastic about what they’re teaching. If I hate a subject, a teacher that is excited about it can usually help me adjust my reality and see that maybe there is something useful to take from the class, even if it is just a positive attitude and the confidence that someone appreciates the knowledge you’ve acquired. Professors that aren’t excited about their subject usually give off an unapproachable vibe, leaving their students with unanswered questions and a general feeling of dissatisfaction. Professors, if you’re reading this, P.R.O.G.R.A.M. yourselves for students: Please Remember to Offer Guidance, Rationale, And Motivation. Even uber-independent college students need that extra nudge of your confidence occasionally.

Anyway, I just had the most bizarre nightmare about a vague great-aunt of mine dying in a nursing home and me taking over her position as an RA there. My room spanned the length of the Animal Kingdom (yes, Disney). And I accidentally left my door propped open after moving in and was taking a shower and all these teenage kids kept coming into my room and stealing my stuff and there was this one really weird kid who bear resemblance to one of my residents/one of the people i know who go to the YMCA kidzone at home. Maaaannnn was it weird.
What a nightmare.
I had to get out of the shower and chase them, naked, all the way (across town/my room) to close the door.

so.
Happy Ash Day.