Time Management Skills (and choices)

My husband has said for years that he loves to see me in my working clothes. These days, the working-clothes closet does not include a uniform. But, the closet is still filled with working clothes (even the holey jeans on the floor: garden work). I work a lot. I like to work. I am a happier person when I have "work" that defines the calendar, structures my day, and brings me both a sense of purpose and a few accolades. Did you know that families are rarely aware of how the refrigerator gets filled, or how those shirts and dresses are ironed, or why the dog doesn't pee on the floor anymore? "Work" on the other hand, is more obviously an effort with rewards: paycheck, take-out once in a while, a mom who doesn't hover. Often, dinner is something from a can, and there is usually a list of chores titled "While I'm at work --." My absence is an adventure for everyone!

My problem, if there is one, is that I have no sense of balance. I seem to have lived much of the last few decades with a "When it rains, it pours" philosophy of work -- or work-karma. I am either unemployed (sometimes for very good reasons, like pending or recent childbirth) or rather over-employed (today, I could say that I have NINE jobs, since adjuncts are independent contractors, always). There were a few years when I changed clothes in the car or in the bathroom at work -- the beginnings of my life as a Bag Lady! Does working a lot make me rich? Not always. Does it make me happy? Yes. That's the great secret, or the confession to be made: I really really really
like to work, and working gives me more satisfaction than cooking, cleaning, or house-training the children and the dogs. There simply isn't enough joy in taking care of myself or my family to make the day seem well-spent. In my defense, I would not work this hard for no pay. Those who know me well, know that without work -- the pay, the structure, the sense of purpose -- I am NOT a happy camper.

I descend into some morass of fattening and fatalism, turning inward and then turning vicious -- to myself mostly, though the crankiness gets sprinkled on everyone. I seek always a purpose that will define me; I am a "Do-er" and not much of a "Be-er." While I heartily recommend self-reflection, and I have often indulged in the adventure of self-knowledge, generally speaking, I am aware that my Self does not provide me with enough material to last through more than a day or two. I need the action -- of chores, of work -- to provide my Self with definition and a reason for being. Reading, gardening, watching re-runs of British murder mysteries are escape strategies: escape from either chores or self-reflection.

So it's Sunday. I got up with the sun. There's homework to do (teachers go to school, too!) and more grading, and I must figure out the on-line grade center for that class.... and there's a party at GM's this afternoon, I want to start a few more seeds, and I really have to get to the ironing.... and I am happy.

The Trapdoor opens and I see another door!

Because there is no longer a schedule conflict with what I will refer to henceforth as Parttime Job #2, the one that is over, gone, vamoose, stolen from me, another emotional coulee -- I am able to say "YES" to wage-earning opportunities that will fill both my pocketbook and my soul. One of the issues that precipitated the separation was my asking for an hour off two days a week to teach a class in the same city. After I got my boxes in the car, I raced back home and emailed off a "YES" to that one. It promises professional challenges, a few or more laughs, some real hard work connecting the material to the students.... ahhhhh. That's one door opened. And, today, I said "YES" to teaching a class at another school, on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons -- that door would never have been opened by the former boss! It's a new class in my satchel, though still one of the Social Studies. I'll be able to have new rooms, new faces, new text, new factors to consider, and at the same time, use lots of my already-prepared assignments and class activities. Another .... ahhhhh.

I lectured tonight on "Middle Adulthood" which is the lifestage between Age 40 and Age 60. We watched a movie (remember David Hartman?) that made, very well, the point that this is the last stage where you can trust your mind and body to stick with you all the way to the end. And menopause and empty nests (for both men and women) bring a sense of liberation, the desire to find and follow old passions, and an imperative to discover something new. I am so totally in this stage. I am in the middle... of the road, of life, of the bridge. There is a sense of time running out, and, I am asking myself, Where Have I Been? and, Who Am I Today?

The youngest kid is admirably independent, self-sufficient, and busy. The Hubby has found his new hobby (fishing, lots of it). Now I have the time to figure out if I am the same person that I was 20 years ago, "pre-children," or not. What did I learn in those years when I was so busy being The Mrs. and The Mom, plus The Wage-Slave, that I wasn't sure some days why that lady in the mirror looked so tired? I can remember driving the road and having a CRS moment: not knowing where I was going or even who I was; my psyche was so malleable that Nicholas Cage or Jamie Curtis movies about body-switching and alternate planes didn't always stay in the "TV: Fiction" category of my mind.

I suspect there are lots of .... ahhhhh moments in my future. Now I have time to enjoy them! And some of them are going to be in those new classrooms this spring.... Gotta go and work on the reading list.... ahhhhh.

The first day is the hardest

I got fired an hour ago. It's probably not a good time to write a blog post; on the other hand, I've got the time now. A month ago, I lectured the Developmental Psych students on the stages of adulthood and the definition of "career consolidation." I have never had a real career -- only for short periods of time have I gone to the same place, same desk, to do the same task. There's been a lot of waitressing, temping in offices, and substitute teaching. The last few years have been the most balanced -- though it seems to the children that I've been gone a lot, I actually worked less than 40 hours a week, and the work(s) itself was balanced in the energy & thought requirements. There was usually a day or two, or a day plus an afternoon, at home in the garden, and weekends could be focussed on family, cookies, ironing, and reading. I told my DevPsych class that, in the middle of "middle adulthood," I had finally achieved what felt like career consolidation. Well..... it's a good thing there is no crystal ball in my kitchen.

I could go on a rant here, about the lack of communication about changing rules and standards, or the boss with a mental illness or two (to borrow a line from As Good As It Gets: we both give mental health a bad name!). But what does that do for me? There is no gain in that. I'll focus on the fact that I'm getting a month's severance pay, and that I have time during the holiday season, and that I can (and did already!!) accept that odd-hour adjunct gig teaching ITV Sociology. A letter is coming, said the committee that greeted me at the office door this morning. They provided boxes and didn't need to go through them: they trust me they said. Ahhhhh.... the tension, worry, daymares, perhaps actual angst is over. That's a good thing.

So, today, I'll do what I was going to do at the other job (babysitting a phone was a primary task) -- grade papers, complete grade reports, set up a Ch. 14 game for class, prepare for the scout meeting tomorrow. And I'll finish that silly mystery novel. And clean the bathroom and water the plants. And I get to work -- at a job I love to do! -- tonight. When I go to bed tonight, the day will seem like a good and productive one (cover the crystal ball!). The sun is shining. That's a good thing. Add "Walk The Dog" to the Do-List.