Response to the Overworked (http://fragmentedcontinuity.blogspot.com)

I'm sitting at a conference luncheon, the kind where you eat chicken breasts and steamed and salted broccoli, drink coffee, and listen to a keynote speaker and pray to God that she isn't a droner (is that even a word? If not, it should be. You know what I mean.).

To mix things up, this luncheon had an awards ceremony component to it, too. One of the awards was the "Best New Teacher" award. They announced the winner and launched into a list of this young lady's accomplishments, which included teaching anywhere in the neighborhood of 27 to 5000 classes, developing technological advances in at least 75 percent of them, running the writing center, which included hiring and firing and supervising, advising the honors society on campus, answering all emails within three hours of receiving them, grading and handing back papers within a single class period, having all students both respect and love her as a professional writing god and a person, and having above-average dential hygiene. During the litany, one of my coworkers leaned over to me and said, "Wow. I'M tired, now."

I've been working hard this semester. In case you didn't notice, I hate that my boyfriend is in Iraq, but there he is. This means that I have lots of time to load my plate up with full-time classes (including one I've never taught before and another I've revamed for the semester), honors society advising, sitting on two committees, helping with the planning for a conference we're having here next year, serving on a search committee, chairing the college's search for our All-USA Academic Team students, taking belly dancing lessons through community ed., working on my portfolio for tenure, attending aforementioned conference, and also having above-average dental hygiene. I do this stuff for two distinct reasons. Number one: I love myself. Number two: I hate how I feel when I'm not busy.

Let's break it on down. Number one, I love myself. Specifically, I love how I feel when I'm in front of the classroom and students are getting it. I even love the challenge of trying to get the resistant students to buy in (not that it's fun or that I don't bitch because I do. It's frustrating, but I still thrive on the challenge). I love feeling useful, helpful. I love having the time to be able to say, "Yes. This is my priority right now, so I'm throwing my whole self into it." That self might be lonely or cranky at times, but with the bad comes the best of me, those parts that are selfless and fiercely committed and loving, even to strangers.

Hating how I feel when I'm not busy is actually pretty self-explanatory. When I'm not busy (read: feeling like I'm doing something worthwhile because everything I do I try to ascribe some meaning to), I'm not living. A friend of mine once told me that he "can sleep when he's dead." In a way, I feel the same. When I'm not busy, I will probably be dead.

What's the definition of work? For me, it is doing something in which I have not found inherent value. If that's the definition, then "OVERworked" is redundant, because any work is too much.

Listen, I'm no saint here. I do a lot of "work." I do, however, try to question why I'm doing what I'm doing, and how I can maximize the benefits that are hiding within these activities. Like that boyfriend said in "The Devil Wears Prada," "You're committed to the one whose calls you always take," I only answer calls that make me love myself more. An interesting effect of this is the more calls I take that most closely align with the love, the more calls appear that feed the love.

My advice for the Worked (who are capable of changing their lives through the privileged act of having the tools to make their own decisions): answer those calls that beget love, because you'll get more love... just like shit can only make shit.