Randomly, I was looking for a poem I had written and posted here. I had nearly forgotten that I had this blog.
I was totally sucked into my stupid high school teaching job. Meanwhile, this perfect space was waiting. I looked and saw that I hadn’t written anything since January. Nearly a year has passed. 9 months. I could have incubated a baby in that time.
I’m currently teaching a creative writing class at the high school level. This is fun and depressing. Have you ever read teenage poetry? Mostly, it’s awful. Mostly, it’s about breaking free from the tyranny of parents or about having a crush. Today, I spent nearly the entire day working on writing end comments for my students’ poetry.
As this year has passed, I realize (at this very moment) that everything I write is for someone else.
End comments for my creative writing students.
End comments for student essays
End comments for online students
Emails to a crazy PLC lead who is driving me to madness
Emails to administrators
Emails to my contractor who is taking an ice age to finish work on a tiny house
Emails to the parents of my students
More f***ing emails
My time is spent in meetings. An absurd amount of meetings. The amount and content of those meetings would be something Stoppard and Beckett would find too absurd.
Meanwhile, it’s all being ignored. All meaning the important stuff.
How does one even fix this problem? I guess, just like weight loss or quitting smoking, or deciding to become a marathon runner, it must come from within.
As I looked through old posts on this blog, I see that this is a running theme. I don’t have time. I don’t have time. I don’t have time.
Right now, as I type this, I’m in my classroom. School has been out for almost two hours. I’ve been to a meeting and have written my last end comment for the day. I have a mountain of papers to grade and should probably stay another 3 hours to get close to finishing it by Friday.
Instead, I’m going to head home and read and plan my writing for Nanowrimo and finish the laundry.
Sorry for the random stream of consciousness.
One Mean MFA is f***ing back.