[DISCLAIMER: Any musings expressed in this blog are for the sole purpose of entertaining the author and reader. Any similarities to any person, place, or event, however timely, should be considered completely coincidental and should in no way be interpreted as intending to describe or relate any real person, place, or event.]
I love what I do for a living. I think I am very lucky to be able to say that and mean it most of the time. The people I work with are committed, amazing, and interesting. What frustrates me is all of the stuff I have to listen to, put up with, and wade through before I can actually get around to doing my work - building a learning community in my classroom that facilitates accelerated growth for students. Blogging is a great way to vent, to remind myself about who I am and what I hope to accomplish, and frequently to embarrass myself when I reread the posts later. This post has nothing to do with any of that, except maybe the embarrassment part. It's only abstractly work- or education-related. It's just some of the thoughts that pass through while I'm driving or laying awake on sleepless nights, and expressing them helps chronicle a bit of the journey.
One thread that I've noticed woven through my "idle" thoughts lately is how my experiences and observations since returning to the classroom have caused me to rethink some common expressions. In the past, I would hear the saying "When the cat's away, the mice will play," and take it to mean that people generally tend to goof off a bit when the boss is not around. While this is certainly true in many instances, I think further examination might reveal another implication. After all, what is play to a mouse but a natural activity? And what is a cat, but a much larger creature who wants to torture the mouse for his own amusement and maybe eat it for dinner? So, of course, the mice are not able to engage in play, or any other mouse-natured activity, when the cat is nearby, on pain of death or dismemberment. It stands to reason that it is only when the cat goes away that the mice can come out of hiding and really get to work, doing what mice are actually supposed to do.
Another expression that has been on my mind lately is "the straw that broke the camel's back." Because I often have way too much to do, more than can ever be done, brokenness is a recurring theme in my life. I am constantly making decisions about priorities, trying to keep everyone happy, or at least complacent. I find myself having to give up on that goal time and again as I realize that I can only do so much. It doesn't matter how badly I want to do or someone else wants me to do, or what great ideas I have or others have for me, there is just so much time and energy apportioned to me by my Creator, and I've yet to figure out how to be the perfect steward of these resources. It's not always a matter of support, either. Even with great friends, family, and co-workers who can be wonderful sources of support, there is still only a limited amount of time and energy. After all, if you prop up the camel so that it remains upright while you load it down, there will still come a point when the burden is unbearable. The camel might not collapse so long as it is propped up, but it would be in a great deal of pain and unable to carry out its camelish purpose. Calling the camel names, giving him poor performance reviews, or throwing programs at him about research-based, data driven, best practices in load-bearing and effective camel behaviors will neither address nor resolve the real issue. So, I'm considering a rewrite, or maybe it's a sequel - something like "It doesn't matter how much support you give the camel if you don't lighten the backbreaking burden."
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