The Pause, and Thoughts of Joss Whedon

So.

There's the story of how I quit my job and moved to Ireland for a year.  Or how I came close to doing that.

I'll get around to telling that story, and the other one about how I walked away from the most important thing in the world to me.  But not today.

Right now I'm thinking about The Pause.

All of the above-mentioned stories relate to The Pause, and how I have found it increasingly necessary in my future.  Somehow, if I'm going to do anything different with my life, I need to take a pause on everything else in my life.

School started a couple of weeks ago, and so I'm back to thinking about my students' needs, and I'm grading papers and I'm working with new teachers and I'm doing all that education stuff that I do.

I'm also getting up early and going to the gym and I'm trying to eat and drink better.  I have time to do this because I only have one job to concentrate on, at least for now.  But even now, most of my life is filled with being focused on Work, although I'm allowing myself the occasional night out with friends.

Every now and then, though, something creeps into the back of my mind. Some strange glimpse of where I could take my life.  At the beginning of the new year, just after I turned 39, I told myself I didn't want to be doing the same exact thing at 40 that I was doing at 30.  It was important that I make some forward progress with my life.

I have no idea where I was supposed to be headed, but I carved out a path involving being a student for a year.  That didn't quite pan out, and as I said, I'll get to that story.

But when I catch myself having that vision of a possible future, it often comes as a result of watching the below video of Joss Whedon performing on This American Life.  It's a song from the musical commentary for Dr. Horrible.  Watch, and then keep reading.

Okay, still with me?  Great.  Nice little song, isn't it?  Joss is great, and one of my favorite storytellers.

But what the hell is tugging at me when I watch this?  This has been a great mystery to me ever since I first saw this.  Maybe it has something to do about being creative, and doing something different than everyone else.  I always wanted to be that guy, but was never really able to pull it off properly.  Anytime I tried to be creative, it was always done in the corners of my life, in the late nights and weekends and breaks from teaching.

If I was really creative, I probably would have pulled it off by now. People like that always find a way, don't they?  They work the day job, and at night they do that amazing thing that makes them stand out and the people all point and say, "Damn, that was incredible."  Maybe I'm just good at putting out mediocre creativity.

Or maybe that's not quite true.  Those people usually toil as waiters and retail workers and other jobs where they can turn their brains off and save the free time for "the good stuff."  For myself, a lot of my creativity and energy goes into teaching, which on its own might be considered a fine way to make one stand out.  And it has been, in large part, for me.

But damn, something's been nagging at me for a long time.  Something that tells me that I need to go try something else.  Maybe it's an evolution from the teaching job, something more specific, but not, like, a principal or anything.  Ugh.

I did the theatre thing for a while, and still do, but never felt like a Professional doing that gig.  Maybe that's why I was going to go to school. To legitimize myself.  The Professionals never like it when a nonprofessional stumbles into their sandbox.

The only thing I really DO know is that I'm not going to figure this out unless I take a proper Pause in my life.  It's less than four months until I turn 40, and I know that time is going to be spent almost exclusively on teaching and directing and doing laundry and watching old episodes of Firefly.

Malcolm Reynolds was the captain of Serenity, and Joss Whedon is captain of his Whedonverse.  I was captain of my own ship for a while, and I had a great crew, and we did incredible things.  And to be honest, I've been captain of at least a dozen or so great crews, and indeed we did do incredible things.  But I can't keep doing the same thing over and over and over again.

There's something there, something just out of reach, something in the corner of my eye. Something in that moment when I wake up, when the night's dreams slip away from your memory.  Something that reveals itself when I'm driving to work, sitting at a stoplight, thinking about nothing.

And then it's gone. "One thing drives out another."

I feel like, if I'm ever going to figure out what that is, then I'm going to have to find a way to take a major pause in my life.  And that is not an easy task to accomplish.

Once More Unto the Breach

So... where was I?

Dublin, right. Finishing up the second week of my sabbatical, to sort things out. I've been back home now...what? Three weeks? Something like that?

It has been good to be back in my classroom. That was the hardest thing, being away from my guys. I know I could eventually leave teaching, but leaving a class in the midst of things...well, that's just not right. They survived without me for a couple of weeks, but in the end, they are my class, and I am their teacher.

So the question is begged: did I accomplish anything? Well, yes, some stuff. I got a lot of the Limelight business done. Schedules and summer planning and such. And I wrote a lot. But not nearly enough. I could have used another couple of weeks, but that would have been indulgent, and there was work to be done here. But yes, I got a lot done.

There is the other business as well. The Life Business. Did I straighten that out? Were there any grand revelations while I lived another life for a couple of weeks?

Probably not. If I realized anything, it's that I need to get more sleep and not eat crappy food. If anything else was discovered, it'll come in time, just like all great revelations do that spring from some grand wandering.

My spring break is next week, and of course I think about where I could go, but I'll spend the week at home, sleeping late and writing even later, and between all that I'll hopefully eat good food and take walks and spend a little time with some quality people.

There's been a whole lot of turmoil going on in my profession, in my state that I'm in, these past several weeks. Budgets are being slashed, people I know are being laid off, and hard decisions are being made all over. It's a longer story for another time, but it's one of those extreme situations that makes you want to either pull the ripcord or hunker down in the bunker.

I haven't decided which one is best. I'll either leap into the fray or take cover as the bombs sail by. And, of course, I'll let you know.

The State I'm In

Last month I found the time to read a book by Frank McCourt about teaching. If there's anything I can't stand it's some poorly-written sentimental volume about how teachers inspire, teachers matter, blah blah, and I was worried that Teacher Man was one of those types of books. It sat unread on the shelf for a few years until one night I pulled it down and started reading.

With utmost respect for Mr. McCourt, I was definitely wrong. The guy can write, and what he writes is true and straight-up. Here's something from the Prologue:

In America, doctors, lawyers, generals, actors, television people and politicians are admired and rewarded. Not teachers. Teaching is the downstairs maid of professions. Teachers are told to use the service door or go around the back. They are congratulated on having ATTO (All That Time Off). They are spoken of patronizingly and patted, retroactively, on their silvery locks. Oh, yes, I had an English teacher, Miss Smith, who really inspired me. I'll never forget dear old Miss Smith. She used to say that if she reached one child in her forty years of teaching it would make it all worthwhile. She'd die happy. The inspiring English teacher then fades into gray shadows to eke out her days on a penny-pinching pension, dreaming of the one child she might have reached. Dream on, teacher. You will not be celebrated.

This has been rattling around in my head for the past month or so, as the school year drags on and I find myself continually swamped with more and more stuff to do which bears little resemblance to teaching. I do like this job, even love it at times, but man, it seems like it's the last thing I get to do anymore. I spent an hour planning for Math today, because I Have To Be On-Model, which means, "Teach it exactly like we tell you to and don't you dare deviate from the book one bit."

I'm a goddamn robot in there anymore, with everything programmed for me in advance, all my words carefully chosen so as not to offend, all my decisions made for me ahead of time. My creativity was shoved into a black van and dumped in the river, and any original thought I get in my head is immediately pushed aside in favor of some pointless task I've been told is Best Practice.

Thankfully there's Limelight, but even that is suffering due to the weight and the crush of this job. There is so much that I want to do with this organization, so many wonderful ideas and plans that jump into my head first thing in the morning and have long disappeared by the time lunch rolls around.

I can't even find the time to finish a simple story about taking a boat ride.

There is just too much going on, and something has to change. I want to just throw out all the bullshit that has piled up and get working on what's good, what matters. McCourt talks about how it took him his whole life to get a book written: "When you teach five high school classes a day, five days a week, you're not inclined to go home to clear your head and fashion deathless prose."

I took a weekend to go out of town to get something done, but spent most of the time driving around listening to music or drinking at my old college bar. Came home on Sunday refreshed and ready to go, that is until Monday rolled around and a new week's worth of headaches arrived.

I can't accept the fact that this is how the rest of my life is gonna go, hunching over my desk grading papers and working on School Improvement Plans and Mission Statements calming parents downs and whatthehelldoIhaveplannedformyteacherassistanttoday christfortyfiveminutesmakesomecopies pickfivekidsgetsomethingdone and oh if I have time maybe write something new and get a group of actors together and get it up on stage, half-baked as it always is. Hire this person, fire this one, arrange schedules, craft the season, update the website. Didn't I have friends, girlfriends even, at one point? Now I'm lucky to see anyone more than once every two months. I think I see the Dubliners more than I do my own sister these days.

Time's up. Back to work. Answers come another day.

May Thoughts

The school year is almost finished.

This was an important, and busy, year for me.

I did a lot with theatre. You can read about that here.

I taught fifth grade again. That was good. A new building, a new staff, a new group of kids. They kicked my ass at times, with their different ways. New type of kids that I've never seen before. Fought and bickered amongst themselves, Alpha males and gentle girls. But we did great things this year, and it was a good year, the first in a long time.

Almost done with the play. Moving in to the new headquarters for Limelight has distracted me a bit, but it's just about there. Just some bits in the corners that need to be filled in.

Casting starts soon. Many of the roles are already decided, since the kids from the beginning are still around, or have returned, for the end. One person remains tricky. And another... another is yet to be filled. But it will all work out.

Running around like a crazed animal these days, hopping from classroom to meeting to auditions to another meeting. A three-day weekend arrives tomorrow, but I will get little rest. Too much to get done, before the school year ends.

And through it all, I want to get back to that green and pleasant country. To The Dubliners and the pubs and the trains and the new towns and the familiar towns. To the green and to some rest and to the place I always go back to, am always drawn to.

The conditions of the world seem likely to prevent this, though. Prices: fuel prices and plane tickets and falling dollars. I just don't know how to make it work this year.

Maybe it's time to take a year off, sure. But where else is there to go? Where else is there, but the place that seems so decided, so permanent. The long brown path that is right there, so close, but for the impossibility of it all.

Like Butter Scraped Over Too Much Bread

I was talking to my Uncle earlier this evening, and I realized that I haven't seen much of my family in a while. Haven't seen a lot of people lately; head's been in the thick of it lately. Lots of theatre, lots of teaching.

I've been stretching myself a bit too thin, however. Been fighting various versions of viruses that have been floating about in the ether, which may or may not be apparent in the photo above. The strained, weary look comes from two days of nonstop coughing and preparation of sub plans.

When you think that teachers have it easy, just remember this: it's more work to call in sick than it is to just suck it up and go to work. True story.

Did sub plans for two days, and limped back to the classroom today. The subs always say the same thing: "you have a very interesting class." "Quite the personalities."

It's all code for the fact that they're a challenging bunch. I love 'em just like any other class I've had, but they've really tested me this year. And that's all that needs to be said about that.

One more week, and then a glorious week of spring break. I plan on spending the week locked in my study finishing up graduate classwork and really pounding out the guts of the play I've been working on. Part of me plans on disappearing somewhere isolated and distraction-free for that week just so I can get some real work done.

So if I don't answer my door or return any phone messages, consider this the explanation.

$2 Guinness

Pulled some ham steaks out of the freezer that had been in there far too long, and after perusing through the cupboards, found nothing interesting to eat. Hadn't I just gone to the new fresh market store with all the produce and vegetables and tasty red wine?

Man cannot live on pears and mushrooms and vino alone, so I decided to head down to the pub and drink $2 Guinness and watch the Cub game for a bit.

I have a local pub. It's the only decent bar within my corner of the suburban retail sprawl I dwell in, unless you like to hang out in the bar area of TGI Friday's or enjoy spending your Friday evenings in the mega-bars that surround me.

Okay, that's what I actually did Friday, but I prefer the smaller, independent places. Like Paulie's up the road. Decent place. Good burgers.

That story doesn't really go anywhere, so let's move on.

I'm busy right now. New job's going well, but man there's a lot of paperwork. You know how police detectives always talk about how most of the job is sitting at the desk filling out forms? That seems to be a lot of what I do now, when I'm not teaching. Lots and lots of forms.

Also trying to put some different things together for Limelight, in my spare time. A few decent things lined up, if I can convince the kids that a collaborative workshop with The House Theatre is something they need to do.

Lots going on, not much time to write, or read other blogs properly. And no time for outside, or trees, or quiet forest paths. Or a long car trip. I could really use some of that right now.

So. Right. Much to do. Back when I'm able.

Spitting from the Mountain

Summer came crashing to a cool, drizzly halt today as my ninth year in my district began today. Once again I was behind the wheel of the Opening Day ceremonies, and it's a good idea they don't listen to my private panic attacks, since I thought it would be a theatrical disaster but it ended up being decent cheeseball fun.

It was modeled after a morning talk show, and was filled with dumb humor and obvious jokes like "Iron Chef: Oswego", I was still able to slip in a good geek reference here and there. (Theme music was from Sports Night.)

Saw T and Prince Fan and Duder briefly as I weaved through the mass of teachers and missed them terribly, wished I saw them more than I did. At the same time finally felt comfortable in the job I have, and ended up working a long, long day, 7 to 7, finishing up at an ice cream social school kickoff thing. The kids I really trust and love and had discussed my potential plans said they were glad I didn't leave for England, and couldn't wait for school to start.

Somehow lost a fair amount of weight this summer, literally and figuratively. Started the school year with optimism and energy, first time in a while. Want to finally make some real plans and figure things out and create create create. Write and write and write and get the words down for real and leave something good behind. Want to fall in love and wear a stylish black suit and stay up too late with great people and then the next day climb a really tall mountain and spit from the top.