Can I do this forever?

I have a kid who is very enthusiastic about gender equality in sports. He's pointed out that because women aren't as well represented in sports, they can't find jobs in the sporting world.

I have a kid who is interested in AI. He's writing about how VR can be used in immersion therapy for anxiety disorders.

I have a kid who loves horses. She's researching equine therapy and how it can benefit kids.

I have a kid who is thinking about white privilege. He's arguing that it isn't as influential as it used to be.

I love teaching.

I think I learn more than they do.

difficulties

studying is hard

i don't remember it being this hard

did i forget that it was hard

was it ever actually hard

did i ever try that hard

is it actually hard



or am i just hard of heart, hearing, and head?

I teach now.

Kids are great. I tell myself this almost daily, because to think otherwise would be the end of me and my career, and then I'd be one of those teachers who burned out in a year of teaching, and I'm nothing if not determined not to be a cliche/statistic. My hipster nature strikes again.

Every day, I remind myself that I love doing this thing. Some days, the thought just occurs to me spontaneously, because I rediscover it to be true. Some days, it's what I mutter as a mantra, a phrase that keeps the smile from slipping off my face as I stand at the whiteboard, marker in hand, waiting for an answer that I eventually cave and give to blankly staring students.

Kids are great, though. They really are. They have such interesting thoughts (and isn't "interesting" such a good word, because it has so many definitions, all of which apply to students). They teach me so many interesting things about themselves, about me, about the world as they see it. Essays are snapshots of students' worldviews, a constant reminder that the world is bigger and broader and more diverse than I will ever be able to comprehend on my own.

They say everyone should work in the service industry at some point; it's supposed to teach compassion for those who do the jobs no one wants. To get perspective, I'd recommend reading a semester of student essays. 

I make no promises, to myself or otherwise.

I want to write again, because I'm trying to get better/do better/feel better, and writing always helps.

If nothing else, it's a sort of. Record. I guess. Of what's going on, what I'm up to, how I feel about it all. And what I'm into, right? Fannish stuff ends up here more often than not as well.

So I'm going to write a bit, maybe, hopefully, if I can remember and find energy for it. Here goes nothing.

Thinking about things

I want to think about things.

If I think about things, I care about things.

I want to think about things and then care about things.

If I think about things and then care about things, I want to do things.

I want to think about things and then care about things and then do things.


But if I think about things, I might care about things.

And then if I think about things and care about things, I might do things.

And then if I think about things and care about things and do things, I might fail.


So.

I don't want to think about things and care about things and do things and fail.

I won't think about things and care about things and then do things.

I won't think about things and then care about things.

I won't think about things.

At all.

neverending nightmare

i'm. Furious. That it has come to this point.

That I am at this point and I can't seem to get out from under the point of this . . . . thing pressing down on me. I'm skewered in place, immobile and fluttering, like the oft-metaphorical butterfly in a case.

Can't move. Can't think. Can't scream. Can't do a single thing to make it at least . . . feel better.

I want so badly to finish up, be done, chuck this pointed, heavy rock off my center and breathe again, but that would require me to act. And I can't.

I'm so scared so scared so scared of what will happen if I try and fail, if I try and don't fail, if I try at all.

it's a goddamn lit essay, but I'm stuck and sick and I want to see it burn.