I spend most Sundays irrationally angry at my husband.
It’s Sunday. My husband has spent the day mowing the lawn, watching television, playing video games, taking a nap, and then making dinner. He’s drinking a beer. He’s very relaxed. This is true for most weekends.
I have spent the last eight hours sitting in our office, planning my lessons for this week, consulting my curriculum maps, searching the internet for activities, printing and making things, scribbling down a To-Do list that rivals anything from my days in college…and I’m still not done.
He is relaxing. I am more stressed right now than I ever am when I’m actually in the classroom teaching. And that makes me so, so angry.
I really hate when people are overdramatic. It bothers me a lot when people explain things in such a way that makes them sound ten times worse than they actually are. And because of this, I really try to avoid doing that myself. I will jokingly complain about teaching for days, but when it comes to my real life, I rarely complain. My motto has always been “suck it up and get it done.” I knew what I was getting myself into. I knew that I’d work well over 40 hours a week and that a lot of that extra time would be spent at home. I know, okay? I know.
But, really? Eight hours of sitting at a desk just to get ready for my job? For a lot of people, sitting at a desk for eight hours is their job. But all my desk work, the hours and hours of it, happens before and after my “job”. From 8:00 to 4:00 every day, I am working. I am teaching. There are kids in my room and I can’t turn my game off because I’d be doing them a disservice. That is the job I am paid for. But from 7:30 to 8:00 every morning, and from 4:00 to 5:30 every afternoon, and for eight hours on Sundays, I am also doing my job. Because without doing the things I do during those times, my Monday-Friday, 8-4 job would completely fall apart.
I feel like I have two jobs sometimes. One is teaching. And one is getting ready to teach. And this is what I feel so many people don’t understand about teachers. It’s not that I am lazy. It’s not that I am trying to do the bare minimum. It’s not that I am angling for a pay raise to be a “glorified babysitter”. It’s not any of the things that so many politicians are saying about me. It’s that I am tired. I am so, so tired. I want to give everything to this job, but I’m running out of things to give. I’ve given my work hours. I’ve given my evenings. I’ve given my weekends. I’ve given my own money to furnish my classroom. I’ve literally put my life and my future on hold because I don’t have time for anything but this. I’ve given a lot. And I’m glad to give, I am. I love my job.
But sometimes, every so often, I secretly wish that I had a job I could leave at 5:00 every day. I wish I had a job that I could show up for with no preparation necessary on my part. I wish I had a job that I could, in good conscience, call in sick to when I wake up and feel like I’m going to collapse. Maybe that makes me selfish, or lazy, or whatever adjective Chris Christie is using on me today.
But I don’t care. I’m tired. And I’m angry. And I’m so sick of seeing and hearing people hate me when they have no understanding of what I do. I don’t need the pay raise (though I’d take it if anyone’s offering). What I need is a break. What I need is some slack. And what I need is to go apologize to my husband because it’s not his fault he gets to have a weekend and I don’t.
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