I don’t know if I like deciding whether or not I want to participate that day. Deciding whether or not I want to show up, play the part of teacher, be only a placeholder or glorified babysitter, or just be something at all for anyone that day. As a substitute teacher, there’s a lack of inward accountability I succumb to in it’s freedom.
This is a bike ride. Typical and frequent in its railings and rants and relfections. Life.
I can allot relational investment dependent upon my mood, perceived emotional capacity, and well-being of my psychological faculties. I can gage my cup and administer what I see fit, dispensing intermittently what I deem allowable to protect taking from myself. I can choose whether or not to craft a skill set, embrace a deficiency, or cultivate a passion. I can consciously retreat from opportunities of growth, moments of discord; face fallacies propping up my quasi-selves, or challenges in which to openly be offended.
I’m not a better teacher on the days I enthusiastically clockin from when I felt most tenacious to be a world changer as a full-time teacher. I’m not more because I can write off my fatigued and emotionally drained days.
I’m healthier, maybe. More insightful to self-actualization and subtle discrepancies that arise before they become full-fledged emotional dramas. I have more episodes of self-discovery. Reflective glimmers into my soulscape frequent more of a reprise than they did traditionally, but not because I am more obedient or disciplined with time. I actually have more time, more than ever. I also waste more time than ever. There was tact, self-restraint, and foresight working out of what felt skimming sufficient or just enough. Ample invites leisure, excess accepts and accommodates a showing of mediocrity.
I was a better teacher and lover and mentor when I showed up on the good and the bad, the blissful and distasteful, even in straight acrimonious defiance and resistance and complacency.
I was better at being. Better in consistency. I lack the drive and audacity to accept the hard days, the challenging days that call me into a better musician, educator, and lover of life. I yearn and ache for more responsibility and meaning, but retreat from episodal encounters to walk into a better version of myself.