”…you are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes.”
James 4:13 (NIV)
**”The days run away like wild horses over the hill.”
-Bukowski
When one countdown ends, another swiftly begins in this line of work. Following the flash of spring break, a trip with the band kids, May arrives in a flash, and suddenly, it's a mad dash to ensure that every last assignment is recorded in Synergy -the digital grade book. Naturally, the natives are restless, the herd is relentless (insert your favorite cliché here), and the summer break feels all the more enticing. On the periphery, the summer break is often viewed as a means by which to envy or make illegitimate the profession, but given the emotional and physical toll this job takes upon those foolish or brave enough to endure it, their exaggerations would be quickly retracted.
This, by and large, has been among the more grueling years in the approximate decade during which I've been an instructor at this site. Though I've had more students in my classroom in previous years, this current batch lacks the same social graces, the manners, the ... dare I say, empathy...that even the classes I had during my novitiate years. Defiant, careless, immature, we're not compensated nearly enough for what this generation offers. The good outweighs the bad, but at the same time, this is the way I sustain my livelihood, and the directive to which I've committed my adult life. I'm grateful to have held the same job for nine years, but alas, I'm but one man, a mosaic of shattered dreams and affects I've collected over the years.
Do I stick it out for the intended thirty-year frame? I'm but a third of the way there, and will be aged sixty-three when I ride off into the fucking sunset. Will I be able to hold out for another five? At times like this, I wish that I'd been more decisive in my twenties
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