I love my school and my campus and I don’t want to go anywhere else. But its lonely. This transition is so much harder in a way I never imagined. Theres not really anything to do about it–you’ve dreamed about this for years. You’ve wanted this your whole life. You’ve done everything you could to get here. Now what? When you realize this isn’t exactly what you imagined, what you had hoped for, and you don’t even know if you’ll get what you want anywhere else. I mean, I can’t do anything else except wait. Wait for the wind to change. Wait for the seasons to pass. Wait for something. –
– from “I’m In The Right Place But I Don’t Quite Belong Yet” by Maddi Burns
Like Maddi Burns, the CSU student who wrote the poignant passage above, I really thought I’d be over this feeling by now because I’m at the end of the academic road–graduated high school –> college –> graduate school –> got a professor job –> got promoted once –> got promoted again…yet here I am, still learning, still going to school, and waiting for –>
…teaching to get easier, to get it right once and for all! (though I’m glad that it continues to be interesting and frustrating and exhausting and fulfilling–all of those things that I expected it would be).
…my time to become “managed” and to stop comparing myself to everyone else who seems to have mastered this skill. I’m waiting to grasp that the narrative in my head is the only one I can control and that everyone else’s narrative only intersects with mine, yet is not the focus of theirs (to shed that narcissistic tendency that drives so many of humankind’s insecurities). I’m waiting not to wear this anxiety as some sort of a badge that legitimizes my professional work.
…the day when I can play and play and play the piano without a shred of guilt, to walk the dog, to bake an elaborate meal and spontaneously invite friends over to share it. I’m waiting to stop living by the clock and the calendar. (I’m waiting to be spontaneous). I’m waiting to accept the sacrifice that Mary Rose O’Reilley speaks of–the almost certain trade-off of academic prestige that comes from loving and living the ephemeral. I’m waiting to really start listening to my kids when they call every night instead of simultaneously filling out my to-do list and scanning CNN to catch up on the 24-hour news cycle that only leads me to the brink of despair in the end.
I’m waiting to stop waiting. To do. And to be okay with the inevitable trade-offs. I’m waiting for fullness. I’m waiting to begin.