There aren't enough hours in the day. I don't finish half of what I need to, and another pile starts as soon as I knock one down. And everyone has an opinion on my performance -- because, you know, everyone thinks they could do it better. What I do in the course of a day... it boggles MY mind sometimes. In the span of 24 hours, I can clean, dress, groom, and transport three people to their daily commitments, grade 200 papers, plan four days of lessons, post worksheets and answer keys online, discuss string theory and quantum mechanics, supervise adolescents with the combustion of methane and hazardous chemicals, dodge fighting teenagers, conquer professional development plans, substitute for another colleague, transport three people home, feed them, supervise two sets of homework, read stories, tuck two people into bed, do two loads of laundry, clean half the house, feed the cat, and collapse in a heap. Oh, and at least once every four days, do all that with explosive diarrhea or violent nausea.
What I don't do is eat. Or pee. Or sleep. I don't read. I don't stretch lazily on a sofa and do nothing. I don't listen to music. I don't watch movies. I don't have time for haircuts. I don't have money for shopping. I don't travel. I don't swim. Or bike. Hell, I don't even OWN a bike.
I dare any one of the judgmental, condescending, know-it-all SOBs who likes to pass judgment on my life and how I conduct my business -- yes, I DARE them -- to trade places with me. For a week. I DARE the lawmakers who want to limit my ability to bargain for health insurance and retirement to try to live my life. I guarantee, beyond the shadow of a doubt, I could do THEIR job. I could probably do it with more compassion, efficiency, and grace under pressure, too. And I guarantee, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that they'd be LOST in my world. Go ahead. I dare you. Educate 125 kids in the art of chemistry and physics while parenting two kids -- one with special needs who can't get help outside the public school system -- and, while you're at it, pay back $25,000 in student loans you spent to get your master's degree.
Oh, wait. That's right. The chief SOB who thinks I'm lazy and pampered and wants to pay for tax cuts for rich people with my pension never GOT his degree.
I am fed up. With all of this. Fed up of being frazzled and exhausted and sick and depressed and anxious and angry and broke. Fed up with hearing how I'm just not doing enough, of being made to feel less than others. I'm fed up with being alone, without support, without even a compass showing me an inkling of the steps that will get me out of this hell.
There has got to be something better than this.
