daily life


Twenty years of teaching came to an end today. It was my last day at work. The school year is over. The hallways deserted. Students and teachers alike have fled for another year. In roughly eleven weeks my colleagues will reassemble in the cafeteria for the start of the 2007/08 year and I will not be among them. I can’t say that it bothers me all that much. Teaching hasn’t been fun for several years now and frankly I feel more than a little conflicted about my role in helping churn out the cogs of tomorrow. There is more to life than one’s occupation but anymore it seems that our lives take a back seat to work. 

So, the desk is cleared out, file cabinets emptied and boxes carted to the car. Twenty years now occupies three small totes and five file boxes in my garage and nearly half of that is going to a friend of mine who also teaches. I turned in my keys and parking tag. Sometime next week I will be deleted from the email system.

Destiny is a funny thing.  A widow on the board once remarked that the universe doesn’t give a rat’s ass about any of us and that believing that we deserve reimbursement or a reward for what we have been through is naive. The universe is not fair and we are nothing more than the cogs that make it up. In my opinion this only partly true. The universe is not fair but it is only a thing, a shell, not unlike the membrane that surrounds and protects the living organism within. I have never believed that I was owed anything really for the past several years. I have always believed that there was happiness and life waiting on the other side however.

Today was the last day of school but the beginning of the journey to what it is I am meant to do next.


Jobs With Justice National Workers' Rights Board

Image by Jobs with Justice via Flickr

What provides dignity in the life of a low wage earner is not that different than what allows workers at the high, or even rarefied ends, of the work for pay scale to get up in the morning and brave another day. A sense of accomplishment, the perception that what one does is necessary and appreciated, and the knowledge that at the end of the day you can take care of not only yourself but those who are dependent upon you is inherent in all people. The idea that low-end wage earners are somehow less aware of these things is patronizing. When you make minimum wage, live paycheck to paycheck and never seem to get ahead, your survival is much more in the forefront than the idea that work should “feed your soul”, nurture you in some way, but it is not entirely absent. If not for this, who would work at all?

 

When my husband was still alive and living in the nursing home, I would go and feed him whenever I could. There were never enough aides or nurses, and they would scurry from table to table and feed 3 or more residents at a time. Because I was there so often, I became as invisible as the residents, most of whom were only dimly aware of the conversations of their caregivers and too far gone in various stages of dementia to repeat what they heard anyway. These women (and they were without exception female) ranged in age from high school to their mid to late 30’s. Many had second jobs. Some were attempting, not too successfully, to further their educations. They all had children, and many had childcare problems – mainly that it was expensive and unreliable. They spoke of credit issues, not being able to obtain or the fear of debt collection should they fall behind or if they were already. They had problems maintaining permanent relationships mostly because of the strain that lack of quality time between job and childcare caused. No one slacked, but no one was challenged either. They had standards. They had goals. They didn’t seem, to me, to have a lower level of expectation of fulfillment from their work or their lives in general than I did.

 

As a teacher, I tried to convey to my students a sense of cause and effect. How well you do in school will affect your education and career opportunities in adulthood. I told them that if they wanted to wait tables because they enjoyed the work then great, but if they were doing any kind of work because it was the only kind of work available to them because they lacked education, this shouldn ’t be acceptable to them. I have long suspected that the purpose of our uneven education system is to ensure that the country has a steady supply of workers who have no choice but to keep our 24/7 shopping habits alive and do the cleaning up that most people are blissfully unaware of. I always tried to give every student a level field, made no assumptions about their capabilities, and gave them every chance and then some to advance. In my opinion, success is a virus that if allowed to flourish in one class will spread to others.

 

As a citizen it disturbs me that people can work hard and play by the arbitrarily set rules and still discover that the playing field was never level in the first place. When my husband was diagnosed with a terminal illness, I found myself a reluctant and unwilling participant in the Social Security system and discovered that it’s not very social and not meant to provide much in the way of security. What struck me the most was the dehumanizing aspects that seemed almost purposely designed to ensure a sense of unworthiness, as if my husband’s becoming seriously ill was somehow his fault or mine. There is no safety net in the United States and no will to demand one.

 

 


Statue of (a) mother at the Yasukuni shrine, d...

Image via Wikipedia

Interesting article on MSNBC today by Wray Herbert who writes the “We’re  Only Human…..” blog. The title was Psychology: Time Only Heals Some Wounds. In it he talked about a research study by Michigan State University psychologist Richard Lucas.

Lucas questioned the idea that people have set-points for happiness in much the same way people seem to have set-points for weight for instance. It is the idea that some of us are just unable to sustain prolonged states of melancholy or conversely happiness. We are divided it seems into glass half empty or glass half full camps. What he found, however, was that people’s feelings are effected by life’s stresses and turmoils and that whether or not a person can adapt or overcome them is not predictable or even predetermined by personality. The stressful event has much to do with it.

For example adjusting to divorce is not the same as adjusting to being widowed. Widowed people, according to the study, seem to “get over” their grief though it appears to take about seven years on average* for this to happen, but the divorce appears to leave permanent emotional scarring that affects divorcees for the course of their lives. The reasoning behind this rather odd finding is that it may be easier for  people to adapt to an event that is a one time hit of “bad luck” than to adjust to a “chronic condition” like divorce.

They liken divorce to that of a chronic illness whose reminders are constant and go on to further postulate that people who get married and stay married until” death do they part” were actually happier people anyway whereas divorce seems to strike those who tend towards misery normally.

The widowed are able to reframe their thinking and adjust their goals/expectations and “escape” their misery and the divorced are trapped because the lack of real resolution makes it impossible for them to do that.

An interesting theory.

A poster at YWBB today,  Jenna, posted today about being irritated by the board and other widows. I could relate. Can relate. There have been more than a few instances when I have been “irritated” to the point of snarkiness at the defeatist lifer attitudes of another widow on the board. But what makes me, or Jenna, fight and “reframe” and others content to put on the black weeds of acceptance? Why are some of us “Scarlett’s” and others “Aunt Pittypat’s” or “India’s”?

*Update – Recent studies have found the time limits on grieving to be rather arbitary and anecodotal at best. Researcher George Bonnano has found that the vast majority of people, who have no underlying mental health issues, take on average 6 months to a year to leave active grief and begin to move on with their lives.