Yikes!

OK OK OK OK OK OK...I'm not panicking, I'm not panicking, I'm not panicking...Just found out that the play I'd been expecting to lecture on during my campus interview is not in fact the play I'll be expected to be lecturing on. Nobody's fault--the schedule said one thing and the progress of the class said another. Which is how classes should be--the fluidity of the group dynamic needs to supercede the structure of the preliminary model. (You'd never guess that I was an English Lit. guy, would you? Well, actually, I used to have an idiot savant relationship to physics. Bombed in every science and math class I ever took in high school, then suddenly, senior year, I took physics--and, I kind you not, I did not get a single question wrong. Not on a homework assignment, not on an in-class exercise, not on a test or an exam. Not. One. The teacher was flummoxed--which was impressive, since he'd be a professor of physics at Tehran University--escaped when the Shah fell and the Ayatollah was killing all the smart secularists--and especially so when, as he put it, "I don't understand--you've gotten the right answer to this question, but I've never seen it solved this way before!" Fascinating, and a little sad--if I'd known about my talent there, I might have gone in a completely different direction in life--majoring in physics rather than Theatre--and who knows where that would have led me? I'd like to meet the parallel-universe version of myself to find out what happened. Anyway--)

Point is, the play that I've prepped to teach to within an inch of its life? Not gonna be lecturing on it. And now I've got only a couple of days to pull together something truly dazzling on a completely different play...now, I'm brilliant, and cool, and I work well under pressure--used to do improv comedy, don't you know--but man...this better be the last curve ball I get thrown in a bit, dammit. I'm serious. I want this job.