The Ruing of Breaking
rue 1 (r
)
v. rued, ru·ing, rues
v.tr.
To feel regret, remorse, or sorrow for.
v.intr.
To feel regret, remorse, or sorrow.
n.
It never fails. About the time I begin to feel *normal* I go back to work. For those of you who are not teachers I may not get much sympathy–after all, most of the world does not get large chunks of time off scattered throughout the year like educator types do. Skip this post then. I really don’t want to read comments about whatever am I complaining about getting almost two weeks off for Christmas Break. This post is more about coping with the deprogramming I go through while on break. I definitely feel regret, remorse, and/or sorrow; I rue.
Now don’t get me wrong. I don’t rue my choice of career. I love teaching. Some days I even like it (old joke). What I rue is how intensely I view my career. I don’t stop thinking school during my break and I am constantly forming lesson plans, looking up new sites, checking mail (answering questions from students–yes, I will write you a reference letter), and refining old units as I create new ones. That creative energy, that inertia of teaching doesn’t just quietly wait for me in the classroom; it follows me home and won’t let me enjoy reading a book without marking a passage to share with students, I can’t read the newspaper without clipping out an article that underscores a lesson recently covered, and I’m unable to work on my writing because of all those teacherly cobwebs covering up my creativity.
Until today. Today I woke up and felt like teaching is a distant memory, a fond reminiscence, something I once did. Today I really got the urge to write, write, write. New ideas, a resurgence of purpose, a desire to edit and revise and investigate new publishing opportunities. Aah, then there is the crashing reality of it being Friday and knowing I return to the classroom on Monday, meaning writing will once again take a nestled backseat to my day, that is f I have time and energy after grading papers and configuring another day’s set of lessons.
Today is today. Monday is Monday. I shall not rue my break, only embrace the fact it gives me glimmer of what retirement might be like.
P.S. I found this documentary at the library: American Teacher. Wow! What an eye-opener.
To all teachers out there: January is that much closer to June. Hang in there!
Pam Webb 