I know it happens - I saw it happen last time, and I could feel it happening this time - but it doesn't make it any easier to deal with. After the first session of college classes, back in January, my life (actually neatly organized at that point, and humming along with frighteningly bright intensity of intentions) just fell apart. I went from having a routine involving regular exercise, daily cleaning and loads of financial responsibility, to staring at the walls, with my brain, spine and will turned to paste, wondering where it had all gone.
I entered this round of masters courses less prepared. But I exited it in the same way - as a ball of spineless paste. Now that I have returned to teaching, every day is a spectacle of haste, running to prepare for what will happen in the next half-hour. After a day of non-stop wolfing-food-while-you-plan-so you can copy- so you can go upstairs, say hello, and start the next class, I come home with a firm resolution that life cannot continue this way. I must put in some extra work, to pull ahead of the class, and reduce the frantic, last minute nature of it all.
But when I get home, I just collapse. I stare at the television, I surf the internet, I plumb the depths of my creativity to find the most utterly pointless and effortless activity I could engage in, and focus on it with a vengence. I am now getting up earlier and earlier to give myself time to prepare for classes that I could have taken care of yesterday afternoon, (or even last night, if I hadn't collapsed into bed so early, as a result of having risen so early that morning.) It is a vicious cycle that I doubt is making me healthy or wealthy, and seems to prevent me from cutting my fingernails.
It all goes back to the two-week intensive course in June - something about sitting as a student for 8 hours a day just sent my life into disequilibrium. Then, right as it was over, the very day it was over, we had to leave a bunch of people hanging out in our house, and get in a car with our boss and her brother, and drive for the border. We crossed into Slovakia, and sat there for an hour or so in the car, parked behind a gas station. I would have loved to sleep, but didn't really feel comfortable letting my boss see me drool in her car. We re-entered Poland at 12:30, no longer legal workers, but now as tourists. Who still work.
I think the midnite visa run is similar to the courses in that, ostensibly, it is not difficult - just sit down, take notes, and speak when spoken to. You are with kind and caring people the whole way, and really have nothing to complain about. But when you are tired enough, everything grinds a bit more, and you don't have the mental and emotional momentum to skate through the slushy patches of life.
And so much of my life really is just skating - I have so much to be thankful for. I am so fortunate in life, that it requires an incredible amount of gall on my part to bitch about anything. Yet when you are tired enough, it is difficult to see that. No matter that you are cared for by others, at great expense of their time and effort and sleep, all you can feel is a rising sense of weariness and claustrophobia. Every week becomes a mortal struggle to make it to the next day, make it to the weekend, (but, oh, there is a wedding you must travel to, so no relaxing this weekend, maybe next!) The horizon of relief is always just over the next hill.
I briefly mentioned this to a 16 year-old student (who is much closer to being a friend,) and he responded, "Yes, Mr. Matt. That is the life of the student. We are always tired, with people asking us to do so many things. So we just want to sit and do nothing because it is all too much."
"From the mouths of babes," thought I. Now, I do not doubt that a wise teacher would allow the re-found perspective on the life of a student to inform his teaching practices, and the work he assigns. But I think too much wisdom gleaned from a single experience might just tempt the gods by making one appear a wee too clever, so I won't. But I will think about it while I take my bath.
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