There's no one thing, like a mammoth boulder, that squashed me into mush and made me decide to call this career quits. If there had been, most likely I would have done it this year instead of waiting a year because I firmly believe that quality of life is as significant as the other concerns that can determine such a decision. Instead, it's been the proverbial piling on of straws, one after the other, over time, that makes me realize I can no longer bear all of them on this camel's back of mine.
Partly due to No Child Left Behind legislation, partly due to more local rules and laws that relieve students of responsibility for themselves and their learning, and partly from the requirement to adhere to an assessment system that does not reflect the way the rest of our world functions, I feel that my profession has shifted under me, and I no longer fit into it as well as I have in the past. Instead of being a leader, I struggle with these aspects that don't make sense to me in so many ways. The intellectual explanations seem to reflect good practice, but the reality just doesn't work out that way for lots of reasons, and I find it very uncomfortable to be part of the group swallowing the doctrine hook, line, and sinker. In fact, it makes me feel, at times, like the dumb cow about which I warn my students every year: "Don't be a dumb cow, following the leader but not knowing why. Know where you're going and why you're going there, or you may be led to slaughter." I'm finding it less than genuine and honest to lead the young folks on this path that's not clear to me will take us to the best end. Heck, I'm not even really sure where it's leading us at all, and unsure is definitely not a good way for a leader to be.
So I'm transitioning away from the current and toward a new version of me. For so long, as far as work is concerned, I've been "English teacher" (and other assorted and related titles) that it's become my permanent designation. People in their fifth decade still refer to me in that way. Some people do know me as photographer, and some know me as jewelry maker, but they're considered my hobbies. I suspect that the shift from my one career to a variety of different jobs will be almost harder for others to adjust to than for me. Ah well, that's not for me to worry about, not really my concern. I'll be moving toward work that makes more sense to me, that still fulfills me but differently, and I won't have to carry the same type of worry with me day and night for most of the year.
The other realization that's been growing over almost the same time frame is that my mother is declining noticeably. She's been in a retirement community for four years, following the plan that she and my dad made for their later years, but Dad passed away just before she moved in. Alone for the first two years, she didn't do well in a large apartment by herself, so she moved to assisted living quarters which was a great improvement. She's had a man friend, another resident, for most of this past two years, and even with the ups and downs that sometimes reminded me of junior high times, their relationship has been a good thing for both of them. Now, though, their memory appears to be diminishing bit by bit. In addition to not remembering that he's told us kids the same stories several times per visit, he now asks odd questions, like are we going to eat the wrapped package that we hold in our hands. Her difficulty is starting a sentence or a question and not being able to remember a crucial word by the time she tries to reach the end of it. She feels a little frustration at the time, closing her eyes to search for the word she needs, and she expresses the realization that she feels "stupid" when she can't find it, but often we know what she's talking about and can insert the needed word in a response. We're glad that she doesn't seem to feel lingering anger or even exasperation, probably because she's still understood. Her world is small and easily manageable to her, aside from the shrinking vocabulary, so she's content.
Being her eldest daughter, the one who most resembles her facially, I watch myself to see how much I follow in her footsteps in other ways. This language issue is one I've tasted during recuperation from surgery some years ago when the painkiller I was prescribed scrambled my brains enough to take away the ability to draw some simple words -- mainly names of things -- from my memory, reducing me to tears of fear and helplessness. The prescription was changed, and my mind returned to its normal state, but the recollection of that time remains vivid. I don't know that I'll be as graceful when I begin losing my vocabulary when I reach my waning years as my mother seems to be. This is a change I hope not to see for many decades.
Finally, the winter of 2010-2011 seems to be a time when we're losing friends and relatives. One of Earl's brothers passed away about a week after surgery for something other than the heart attack that took him, and then this past week the daughter in law of that same brother died in a similar circumstance at the age of 57. We've also just heard of the passing of the brother in law of a dear friend of ours, a man with a generous heart and a true love of life. He was not many years older than we are. The good that comes out of the pain and loss is that we promise to take better care of ourselves, and we keep in closer touch with our loved ones at least for a while until the next reminder comes.
Life is short. Do what you can to be responsible and happy, and to live while you're alive. I've added this thought to my 2011 New Year's Resolution not to sweat as much small stuff. Now let's see if I can live it and roll with the changes.
