Let's not keep score...

This week I was considering keeping a time-card to record the amount of time that I spend on being a teacher... just to see, you know?

But then--Is my daily commute part of the equation? Do I include the three mornings this week I woke up around 4:00 mentally troubleshooting potential assignments?

And then--what was I hoping to accomplish by quantifying my schedule? I apprehensively followed this train of thought down to its murky core, and I found a bitter and frustration-flavored desire to collect evidence against my current profession.

There's no doubt: Teachers are feeling downtrodden and abused this year, possibly even more than last year, possibly even more than ever. Personally I have much to be grateful for regarding this year compared to last. Second year of teaching is truly a relief from my panic-stricken first months. And I can't quantify my appreciation for teaching all five classes in one room!

But like every teacher I talk to, I have my own list of building frustrations (I'll try to keep it short, here, though--it's not really the point of my post):

--Budget constraints prevented me from becoming full-time by teaching one more history class, but did not prevent hiring a new basketball coach with a full time schedule of history classes.

--Administrative changes lead to top-down mandates of ever-changing procedures, jargon, and expectations. Lots of new paperwork, meetings, and anxieties.

--Current contract negotiations suggest a potential reduction in plan time by 50%, due to apparent perceptions that teachers do not need or use their plan periods efficiently.

--My end-of-the-day class is 32 (ahem) "energetic" sophomores strong. Talk about a set up for classroom management failure.

--Five different classes to prep for keeps me in a constant state of frenetic materials-gathering and grading, which extends long past official work hours.

Is there a point to complaining, though? My issues have no official outlet and no possibility of being addressed and assuaged. Not only that, but these are just the eternal complaints of educators. And what job, after all, doesn't come with myriad frustrations and trials?

However: I have a sense of justice that tells me I have a right to frustration, and more specifically, that I have a right to store up these issues for my ongoing evaluation of whether or how long I will stay in education.

On the other hand...

Living in the litter of my quickly-accumulating frustrations doesn't do good things for any part of my life--my personality, my teaching, my energy, my friends, and my mental state suffer as a result of letting these monsters settle in too closely around my consciousness.

Not only that, but my spiritual conscience tells me this is not the right way to live with my professional complaints. I believe Christians are given to tools for (and should model) an endurance for the frustrations inherent in the process of doing Good Work. As an educator, I want to channel Jesus' philosophy of living by being an example of peace, mindfulness, and grace for my students and coworkers.

It's a quandary, no? I find myself in the awkward attempt to hold in balance this right to my frustrations, while rising above those same frustrating details that distract me from my real business of living fully and well within my work.

Every moment brings a new battle to keep the most healthy outlook; to apply that outlook to my outward attitude and relationships. It might be the most difficult mental task I have ever had to do. I think it might be best not to keep score on how many of those battles I win, and just say that staying in the game is the point.

As for my potential time-card... well, I don't need to go out collecting evidence, frustrations do a good job of finding me on their own. Instead, I'm gratefully taking my first totally selfish personal day to spend a little extra time on some musical and social therapy at the Walnut Valley Bluegrass Festival this weekend.