There's the truth and there's (the truth)
The truth about writing daily (mostly), unedited (sort of), raw (very) journals is that the truth (as I see it) changes pretty much every day. I am not talking about alternative truths or giant philosophical truths, just what I thought was true one day about life in the corona may not be true the next.
Let’s take work. I teach three classes adjunct at a community college less than a mile from my house. A couple of weeks ago, this seemed like a pretty good gig. I (used to) walk to and from my classes each teaching day—Monday & Wednesday. My day started at 8 am (7:30 if you count my commute and detour to McDonald’s for coffee) and was home by 2:30 pm to walk the dog and pick up the kids from school. On Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday, I do my own thing. I don’t make a lot of money teaching three classes over two days for about six hours each day, but there are much worse jobs I could have for the same not-a-lot of money.
Like the job I landed last Monday—teaching online from my basement office. This. job. sucks. How did my romantically impoverished existence as an adjunct professor turn bitter reality of the over-educated working poor? What happened that I spent more (quality) time with my family when we spent the days apart than now that we spend the days together? Working from home is a benefit most people aspire to—I never before thought it wasn’t a perk. Why do I feel so brutally under-compensated teaching online from home than I did teaching in-person from school?
I taught three online classes yesterday. None of them lasted more than an hour, I did not have to physically do anything more than walk downstairs (detouring for coffee in the kitchen), and the students were attentive and just as engaged (or not) as usual. But by 3 pm, I was drained. I sat in front of my computer for 30 minutes trying to type out SOMETHING for yesterday’s blog, but it did not happen. My list of to-dos in order to just deliver my online classes keeps growing (and grading is simply not happening), and I don’t feel as if I am moving forward at all. I’m desperately treading water though I know I will drown.
I’ve heard said that drowning is not the worst way to go (though I feel distrustful of a source that would be able to report that). So, rather than drowning all at once (and wasting a lovely end), I plan to spread out my demise, like Ophelia and her skirts, over the rest of the semester. I will keep my hours from 7:30-3 pm Monday through Thursday, enjoy at 3:30 coffee break with my family co-workers, and take Fridays off. Since there is no longer a weekend (or at least there wasn’t as of last Saturday’s blog), I might do a little reading or writing or grading on Saturday or Sunday, or I might not.
As I was responding to an email just now, it occurred to me why this new teaching modality is so exhausting—I am not just teaching comp online; I am creating a whole new set of rules and expectations for normalcy in the college classroom and delivering meaningful academic content (which I had to recreate to acknowledge our current social circumstances) within a defining moment for the generation I teach. I’m creating a new reality and an academic exercise in reality all within a virtual space. I don’t even know if that makes sense, but I know it’s a lot of work. Truth.
