As expected, there are pros and cons of leaving the classroom and working from home. I started to write this post last week, but felt stuck for some reason, like a boat run aground. I had to wait it out until the tide came in again, and drew me out to sea.
A perfectly grey November day, today. November is the month of burgundy and smoke-grey, pale blue, and rich or faded shades of brown. I once rued it, preferring the sparkle of December or the golden yellow of October. But now, I relish November. It stretches out like a cat in front of the fireplace, thinking deep thoughts and twitching its tail in anticipation of Christmas cider and evergreen dreams.
And that is one of the “pros” of my different life – being able to run aground and wait a bit. I still feel “hurried” inside by the usual everyday demands, but I’m learning to let myself take time when it is needed. Even if it feels uncomfortable and means ignoring that insistent voice yelling to hurry up and get things done. It is actually more comfortable to be rushed along by the endless urgent. That feels safe and purposeful; surely, if I’m doing this many tasks I must be worth something, must be doing life right. Right? Measuring the worth and quality of a day by the number of tasks we accomplish seems …good. Is that what we were put here on earth to do? Count all the jobs we finished until the day we die? And yet, work must be done.
It takes considerable effort to move a rowboat that has run aground. If you’ve done it, you know. So I’m grateful to have time to wait for the tide.
A related “con” of working from home part-time is not having a set schedule. When you are used to bells ringing and constantly being propelled though the day by a clock, not having it just feels – weird. At first I enjoyed planning a full day:
- 6:15 up and make breakfast for husband
- 7:00 coffee and breakfast
- 7:30 exercise
- 8:20 start work at the computer
- 10:30 break and laundry or clean the kitchen, make a plan for supper
- 11 work
- 12:30 Lunch
- etc
You get the picture. It never goes quite like that, though. We aren’t machines, but feeling, thinking, organic beings – humans. More like dancers than robots; more like music, less like morse code; more water, less concrete; more fire, less ice.
It’s been fun to experiment though, to have that freedom. I have rarely had days to organize how I like. When my kids were small I worked – the year or two I didn’t work at a school I ran a small day home and taught piano lessons. There was very little margin, though somehow we had bible study, volunteered at church, took care of a rental suite, and renovated here and there. I have painted so many walls I could probably open a small business doing it if I was so inclined! But I digress.
Some of us do much better as people when we are free to create and flow, without being held down by the iron spikes of time. Not having a set schedule for the work day is a “con” only because I’m not used to it. And then, there are interruptions.
Once upon a time I thought I was very good at interruptions. I can be really flexible (is it flexibility though, or folding into demands to avoid unpleasantness?) Flexibility is a basic requirement of being a mother and a teacher. But I’m discovering that interruptions actually catapult me backwards, and it takes precious time to find where I was and continue. I imagine knitting (imagining because I don’t know how but have watched friends) and someone accidentally tugs the yarn and unravels part of the sweater or sock I’m working on. First you have to find where you left off, and then carefully knit it back together. To deal with interruptions I’ve put my phone away where I can’t see notifications but can still hear it ring. The first day I tried this I missed an important work-related text. So – the jury is still out. Unfortunately, I struggle to jump back into whatever I’m doing if I see a text message, so the fix for now is a couple hours at a time with the phone on mute and all notifications off. Ahhh.
A “pro” is having time to tend to things. Things being making dinner, tidying up, weeding the garden. I have tried new recipes, made baked oatmeal and breakfast muffins, organized bills, strolled through the Farmer’s Market. Bought a pretty green plant at the flower shop, just because. Is this what people do? Am I living?
One “con” I had anticipated is missing the face to face with students. When I teach, I draw on the board, have impromptu object lessons, share stories, pace around, talk with my hands, show video clips, ask questions, facilitate conversation and debate. Laugh and tell jokes that probably aren’t funny. Creating courses online is great, but lacks the human element – which is what life is all about – even if you’re an introvert like me. The teacher-student relationship is a key part of the learning process. It’s hard to teach well when I don’t know a student’s personality, likes and dislikes, learning style, or sometimes even what they look like. I have been surprised how much I miss the in-person part of teaching, while knowing that I can’t do it right now. Maybe someday.
There are many more pros and cons, but these will do for now.
A day in my new life is evenly paced, respectful, thoughtful. Livable.
I sleep at night, most of the time. Or more of the time, anyway.
I have more space for the needs of others, and the strength to draw boundaries.
I enjoy being with those I love and even have the capacity to meet new friends.
I’m not on auto-pilot.
I’m learning to not let myself be defined by the expectations of others.
I don’t count the minutes until I can be alone to heal and decompress.
A cup of tea is a glorious, warm cup of tea, not a tenuous life-line to sanity. (Coffee, on the other hand…)
All of these things are part of a day in the life, and though mostly I like to keep it to myself, I also want to share with you. We can learn from each other, and sharing our stories is so freeing, life-giving and powerful. Thanks for coming along.
Stories for Humans 