Tuesday Slice: Five-thirty pm

Just three years ago, five-thirty pm marked my first hour home.  I might be throwing a load of laundry in the washing machine, putting together a plate for my high school boy, reheating leftovers for my husband and myself.  Five-thirty pm may have even called for a power nap on the couch, reading my emails or a book on the front porch, walking over to my neighbors' house for a chat.

The high school boy has since gone on to college, and doesn't need a ride home from school anymore.  My artificial boundary gone, five-thirty pm often finds me still at work.  There are emails to read and answer, lessons to plan, overdue tasks to complete.  Late yesterday afternoon, I hosted an online meeting, and was about to walk out the door before five-thirty pm (gasp!) when I realized there was a staff meeting in the library this morning.  Down went my purse and keys; the next thirty minutes were spent rearranging tables and adding chairs to fit our growing faculty.  Tablecloths were laid where the potluck would be placed.

There are moments of peace during these times:  waning sunlight through a window casting a previously unseen pattern on the carpet; the quiet clicking of my keyboard; the satisfaction of tasks completed.

Then I shut off the computer and the lights, lock the doors, and walk outside to a nearly empty parking lot.  The sun is setting in line with my road home, and any peace I felt is replaced with the sad realization that I am truly spent; I have little left to offer the rest of my day.  I drive home in silence, shuffle through the door, and stare at the list of what will once again remain undone at home.

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Afterthought:  I did not write this to garner pity or admiration.  This is an observation of the lack of balance in my energy these days, a struggle faced by more than a few educators.  I love my job, have written and will write about the wonderful moments that fill my days at school...but I also think it's important to note that this work can and often is depleting.  We must find ways to "fill our own buckets" to continue to be able to give.