music: Radiohead- Amnesiac
Was I kidding myself when I thought this time would be that different?
I’m at the end of week 4 of teaching, 1/9 done, for those keeping track at home, and David’s already surrendered significant amounts of himself to Missa Toss. There’s been a struggle, clearly there’s been a struggle. After a year off I’m having to relearn some tough lessons and in some ways am experiencing symptoms of a first-year teacher. Beyond that, though, I’m putting in 60+ hours a week again, forefeiting my Sundays again, noticing other aspects of my life slowly cracking and deteriorating again. I’ve been asked if I’m doing okay more times than I should have been asked in the past month, and those close to me have expressed worry and concern more than they had up until last August. My eating habits and sleeping habits are taking a turn South. The general answer, the honest answer, is that right now I’m exhausted and I’m not having fun.
In some ways, though, I’m still doing better than Missa Toss in Boston. I manage to squeak out two or three weeknights to do something I want to do. I manage Friday evening and all of Saturday for myself. But as before, Missa Toss has the rest. Those who know me know that nobody is harder on me than me, and that I can bend very, very far before breaking. While these qualities may be the secret to certain successes I’ve had, they are also my potential undoing, my classical hubris. I’m reminded of Gaiman’s Sandman again, whose stubborn adherence to his own set of rules on how to conduct oneself led to his undoing. Even though I’m in the thick of it I can see the writing on the wall, and I know I have to proceed with caution. Striking a balance of all that is important to me is proving to be a very difficult thing.
Last year, my first year in San Francisco, was one of the best years on record for me. This year, Missa Toss is back on the scene, and David is suffering because of it. I shouldn’t be shocked or surprised. At some point I have to wonder if all this work, energy, mental and emotional exertion, physical expenditure is worth it. I can’t say from where I am, 4 weeks into a school year, whether it is, but I know that in many cases my work is resulting in kids’ wheels being spun in the sand. Skills are remedial, surprisingly so, and progress (if any) is infinitesimal. Meanwhile, I pay a dear price. At what point do I value my own life over the lives of 110-odd teenagers? At what point do I say to myself that my own time and energy is better spent on my life than theirs? I have already given up three years in my mid-20’s to the teenagers of Boston; was I kidding myself in thinking that the situation in San Francisco would be that different?