Decades ago, when I was a reference librarian at the Half Moon Bay Library, a novel entitled "When Things Get Back to Normal" was seen flitting across the circulation desk more than most books that hadn't made it onto the Best Seller List. That title always made me smile; what an ironic way of addressing the small or larger chaos clusters in which we find ourselves ensnared, much like Tar Baby. Whether it's shuffled tutoring sessions, seriously ill relatives, or unforeseen crises that bounce us off the back of the pickup, two things are clear: we've got to react quickly and things will NEVER get back to normal.
If you're over thirty, you've probably figured out by now that "normal" is a joke. (It's also a town in Illinois; I shun the thought of calling that town home.) In the last five months, my carefully constructed sabbatical year from full-time teaching has included (in no special order and in addition to tutoring and subbing in the public schools) finding toxic mold in my house and having it remediated,(thus wiping out my $$ cushion for the year), allergy testing and (at last!) an effective treatment for chronic hives caused by said mold, a very sick mother, an abandoned, musty bedroom crying out for cleaning, demildewing and painting, a surprise tenant who decided to rent said musty bedroom, do-it-yourself wallpaper removal and painting by yours truly, composting and preparing to plant a garden, and hundreds of visits and revisions to my ical page. In spite of all the unexpected busywork, I've managed to do a good amount of painting (the fun kind) and a bit of writing, squeezed in around students, sub days, and home projects.
Oh, I miss the biweekly paychecks, and the invisible medical premium payment even more. It strikes me as backassed that when you're part of the machine, their machine, the take care of all the dirty work. You just show up, do your bit, and keep putting those checks into the bank. But the minute you jump off the spinning carousel, go it alone, live by your instincts, market your own skills, you've got to pay and pay and pay to stay healthy. Am I the only one that thinks that's a little crazy? But I don't miss the lesson planning, the interminable, unproductive meetings, the grading and correcting, and the ever-increasing incidence of someone telling me I have to be at some evening function on my precious bits of "time off!"
Who ever thought I'd find time for a blog?
No comments:
Post a Comment