I'm so tired I don't think I can even pretend to be witty and clever. The week has flown by so quickly that I'm a little disoriented...huh? What happened? Was I asleep?
Never mind the week...how the F#%K is it already March 8th? Where is this YEAR going? I get up, get to work on auto-pilot, my day careens by and all my conscious thought is concerned with grammar points and correcting pronunciation (and reminding myself over and over to SPEAK SLOWLY) and doing photocopies and prep and marking and suddenly it's 3:40 and I'm on the bus home again. I fall into bed by 9:00 and start the whole thing over again too-few hours later.
I'm not complaining about my job. I fell into teaching almost by accident...more of a sky-diving lark than a conscious decision - and my sub-conscious definitely knew best in this case. I am incredibly fortunate to have work that I enjoy, that gives me the hours I want for not-too-bad a wage. And I love teaching. I love the interaction, the humming energy of a classroom full of motivated adults with all kinds of interesting life experiences to bring to the table. I love the relative independence with which I work, I love (most days!) the seat-of-the-pants improv and creativity and terrible drawings (mine!) and sound effects and gestures, and the different sounds that students from different cultures make when they "get" something.
It's also bloody exhausting. Especially my last class of the day right now. Great students with great attitudes and senses of humour...but they're tired by 2:30, and having difficulty focusing. So I have to keep the energy up, up, UP!!!! Problem is, not only am I tired by then...but it's a beginning-level class. So I have to keep the energy up in S-L-O-W motion. A challenging juggling act at the best of times! And it leaves me just wiped.
And so my weeks fly by ridiculously quickly. The weekends are gone in a flurry of housework and grocery shopping and trying to have a little R&R with my significant other and maybe keep up with a friend or two. Then it's Monday again, and it starts all over.
This week has been rather decadent, actually. It's almost 10:00 and I'm still up - not even in PJs yet! Mom's been in town, and I've seen her and my sister TWICE in TWO NIGHTS. Oh my goodness! That's life in the fast lane for me.
Still, every morning when I write the date on the whiteboard in my classroom, I feel a little twinge of quiet almost-angst. Where is my time going? Does it count as "enjoying my work" if it's such a headlong rush that I feel carried away like a twig in a game of Pooh Sticks during spring run-off? By the end of the day, I have already forgotten most of what happened in the previous 6 hours.
I need to be less like the stick, and more like Pooh. And yes, I've read the Tao of Pooh. Several times. What I need is to find ways to incorporate that slower sense of Paying Attention into my life. To be more mindful and present. So the days can be savoured rather than gulped with barely a breath in between.
This is too much to consider and solve tonight. I'll make sure I spend some quiet-time-with-self this weekend. In the meantime, I think I'll go make a cup of chamomile tea and sit and ponder the walls. And maybe watch the cats sleep.