Dispassion Doesn't Grow Dendrites

This evening, I had the pleasure of hearing a lecture by the famed Dr. Marcia Tate, author of the bestseller Worksheets Don't Grow Dendrites. Indeed, a brilliant woman with an amazing stage presence. I can only hope to captivate audiences in this fashion, someday.

Sometimes, when you hear someone speak, you take something away from it that you didn't expect to take out when you went in. This happened to me today while Dr. Tate was talking about the ten factors that contribute to long life. One of these things was being passionate about one's work. That used to be me. I remember telling people scarcely a year ago that I didn't think that I, as a teacher, was underpaid at all - in spite of the countless hours that I spent every evening planning my lessons. I survived on 5-6 hours of sleep a night my first year teaching, and never got sick to the point that I had to miss work. I wondered how that was possible... but then I remember the teacher who wrote comments as he graded his first year final exam as if the students were going to read them. I never cried over that first year being over, but looking back, I should have. A the time, I was in denial about the fact that I was looking at three months without the pursuit that I loved most in the world: teaching. I suppose that's why I didn't wear myself down that year.

Fast forward to this year. Throw teaching out the window and replace it with correcting inappropriate behaviors, trying to track down parents through a list of wrong and disconnected numbers, and writing behavior referrals for students who will more than likely, be returned to your class ASAP while you are berated at the next faculty meeting for writing the referral... this cycle can make one dizzy! By and large, my job is a source of stress that I have chosen to deal with by becoming dispassionate about my job. For an admitted workaholic, it is not an easy thing to do. Dr. Tate put a new perspective to this for me, which I could not stop pondering throughout the rest of the lecture: With every passing work day, I am actually making my life shorter. I am stealing from myself every day... or am I stealing of myself since I am taking from my very life? A grave thing (note the pun) it is to steal from oneself that which cannot be replaced.

I suppose that tomorrow, I'll be thinking about all of the bingo games, hip replacements, senior catfish dinners, and bus tours that I'll be missing out on... simply because I went to work today.