Something I'm trying for 2016: For one week out of every month, I'm not reading Facebook at all. Taking a break from the noise is, I've come to realize, pretty essential for my mental health. I miss things, of course. I miss big announcements. I miss birthdays. I miss delightful little snapshots of people's lives, which is the sort of thing I enjoy posting myself. But I also get to pass on SHARE IF YOU AGREE and people making Big Fat Points. I get to pass on getting sucked into the comments of just about any article. I get to pass on scrolling mindlessly through my screen, the Facebook screen that never ends, only to say, "I've just spent forty minutes of my life reading what?" I get to pass on the things people will say when they can hide behind a computer screen. I don't miss that.
Tonight is the beginning of my seven days, because I've had it.
I actually had kind of a great day today; I'm not sure I can articulate this in a way that makes real sense, but I was stressed yet thriving within that. I felt engaged in the work I was doing, because it felt meaningful. I coordinated meetings and rounded up students and reached out to some really fabulous professional contacts and they responded to me, which made me literally squeal with delight in the middle of the computer lab where I was tapping away at an e-mail while simultaneously chatting with two seniors girls about books during Advisory because I am that much of a nerd. I taught some classes and really enjoyed them. (Sometimes I really do just consciously decide to enjoy my classes, to play, to have fun, especially if the previous class was frustrating or annoying. Because I know I set the tone of my class, most of the time; it's not unlike setting the tone for my own home. Sometimes I can't hide my frustration. Sometimes Mama gets mad. But sometimes I have to remind myself that it's Friday for teenagers, too, and if I can laugh with them everyone is going to have a better day.) And then things happened. Life happened. The world intruded on my little bubble, I guess.
What upsets me tonight is the way the media tells tiny pieces of a story, and people fill in the blanks on their own, informed by their own fears and biases. People forget their own humanity and look for someone to blame when they're hurting or afraid. (Take your pick: Obama? Those gun control freaks? Liberals? School districts? Parents?) I sat at my computer this afternoon and thought that by this evening I'll be reading comments about public school, about "those" kids, about "That's why I_________," about bad parents, about "kids these days," about why didn't the school ___________ and why didn't the district _____________ and I will feel the need to defend my choice not only to serve THOSE kids in THAT school but to send my own children to public school in this very district, with teachers like me who believe passionately in what we do, in where we choose to do it, and who ALSO FIND THIS REALLY FUCKING HARD SOMETIMES.
I'm just tired. I'm so tired. What's sad is that I can already anticipate the exact tone-deaf comments I'll read or hear, and I'm irritated and even angry in advance. I'm investing emotional energy in something that hasn't happened yet--because it has happened, again and again, and I'm sorry, I know this makes me sound like a martyr, and sometimes I'm too sensitive, but dammit. Dammit. I'm tired of it. So this is the night I start my monthly week-long Facebook hiatus, and I pray that my real-life friends who aren't teachers can trust me when I say there are layers to this, and they're all heartbreaking. That railing against the schools, or against parents, is toxic and unhelpful. I don't know what helps. Maybe nothing. Maybe hope. Maybe prayer. For now, I'll try those. For now, I'll hunker down on this Friday night with my children in their jammies, and I will believe that we have more to gain than we have to lose by doing exactly what we're doing: choosing to stay. Choosing to be challenged. Choosing to do the work we're called to do, where we're at.
No comments:
Post a Comment