Wrapping up my agonizing over a quick presentation

The presentation to some Colorado advisers on Saturday went fine, despite the relatively few in attendance and despite my time coming at the very end of a long Saturday morning. The best thing about it, from my POV, was that I was prompted to think a bit about what I might do were I back in the classroom right now.

If it wasn't clear from last week's posts, let me state this clearly: I have no magic solution to the stresses and the challenges and the constant political grenades being tossed at teachers (from all directions).

One of the anchors for my little talk was this paradox: "The better things are, the worse they feel." I borrowed this from the late Richard Farson's terrific book "Management of the Absurd," now sadly out of print but still relevant in so many ways.

Here's an example: I heard a guest on Bill Maher's HBO show simply throw up her hands and declare, "I'm over it." She was referring to the pandemic.

Distressingly, Bill was in full agreement. He's no anti-vaxxer but he thrives on being a gadfly, of sorts, finding his joy in pissing pretty much everyone off from time to time. The basic argument for being "over" the pandemic was that it had just gone on too long and that it is time to... well, it wasn't clear. Just ignore it?

I thought about Americans who persisted through four years of World War II. If only we had such sage insights in the 1940s, with people, inconvenienced and uncomfortable and not able to live their lives as they always had, simply calling the whole thing off. 

It's not that I don't appreciate the impatience of people accustomed to instant almost everything. I will curse out loud when the "smart resume" function on my Xfinity system is not available, allowing me to effortlessly skip commercials on some network shows. Just today I had to log off Google and then log back on after something went haywire and I couldn't write this very blog post. How dare "they," whoever they are?

I can vividly remember not being quite so impatient, or spoiled, earlier in my life. After all, there were fewer choices, fewer options to exert power, and fewer distractions for most of us. It wasn't a better time in most ways, even for the very rich (compared to the technology and opportunities the very rich enjoy now).

We are greedy. Give me even a small leg up in life, and I will look for another boost. I won't be satisfied with my little bit of progress.

A general rule for successful therapy, I have read, is that it does not lead to satisfaction, but to new and different feelings of discontent. Most people who can afford therapy don't "graduate" or declare that all is well. They simply elevate the level of their complaints. This is great for the therapy business, BTW.

Successful revolutions are rarely led by abject slaves -- illiterate, starved, and beaten. Revolutions tend to come from the upper middle class, if not the wealthy, and often grow from people reaching some level of education and physical comfort and sensing that things could be different. 

I suspect that much of the hatred and fear and frustration we see in the country boils down to sheer impatience with the pace of change.

That is why I proposed that teachers tighten their focus on their own schools, on their own staffs, and on their own classrooms. Change can be rapid in more confined situations. And local changes can create wider change.

It always has.