random

Bob Dylan

Every now and then I hear one of my students describe a friend as being "random".  I have finally figured out that what that means is unpredictable to the point of sometimes appearing to be in their own little world.  I'm not sure if random is a good word or not.  I prefer the term spontaneous which has a better connotation.  Random implies no pattern, an accident, almost no meaning.  Spontaneous, on the other hand, implies willing to tackle anything on a moment's notice, still willing to be surprised, not having to plan everything.  I tend to be more unprepared than anything else.  As I get older, it's harder for me to get organized, and the sad thing is, I am getting to the point where I don't care if I'm organized about a lot of things.  I am so busy that I meet myself coming and going, and I don't know what I've done, what I'm doing, or what I'm planning.  Teaching all day, writing, and teaching two nights a week have destroyed my ability to be prepared well.  I have too many irons in the fire.  I don't like that at all, and I can't do it as I once did.  My night classes, God bless 'em, are very forgiving and patient.  They are good people and are willing to overlook my disorganization because they know that despite being older than I used to be, I am still a good teacher and I respect them.  That means a lot to both of us.

I've had a rough week, and my discouragement with teaching grows.  I don't see a good future in education, and I wish my daughter had decided to major in something else.  She, however, is a lot like me and is unaware of all the possibilities out there.  When I was in school, I knew I wasn't smart enough to be a scientist or an engineer and I wasn't good enough to be an athlete.  I loved reading and writing, and since my options were limited, I got into teaching.  Would I have done the same thing today?  Honestly, I don't think so.

I'm ready for change.  I've grown stale and stopped -- in the words of the great philosopher, Bob Dylan -- being born, so I'm busy dying.  It's a little depressing to think that from our moment of birth we are taking our first steps, metaphorically speaking, to dying.

My rough week has depressed me.  I hope it gets better.