No matter how hard I try, I simply cannot figure out the dilemma of time. It eludes me, always just out of reach and it haunts and taunts me, a cunning thief of my waning energy. I know it’s been said that you find time for that which you find important…and I do.
And yet, here I sit, for the past 6 hours, grading, planning, creating, reading, writing…and I’m still not even close to being done. This isn’t another tiresome lamenting of how hard teachers have it. No, I don’t mind putting in the time; this work of the past 30 years is like sweet, beautiful oxygen to me. What I do mind is the feeling that I am still. not. finished. Which if you follow the road signs, means I will not be ready for tomorrow…I will not reach my destination.
But just like every other day, I will silently concede defeat. And here is where I admit that I’m feeling drained by repeatedly falling short…missing the mark. I think it has something to do with being on the downward side of 50 and feeling as though a light is beginning to dim. My time spent in this space is almost over; a sense of urgency wraps itself tightly around me, urging me to do more…be more. And I will. I will. I will.