To Sir, With Apathy

I've always been pretty good at admitting my faults. I used to just be good at telling people that I'm not very smart or attractive or outgoing. Now I'm also able to admit to the seedier traits, such as jealous, competitive, and mean. I am all of these things. Don't argue with me about this last list, because it's all true pretty much all of the time and I'm ok with it, at least most of the time. The first list is only true some of the time. For example, sometimes my hair actually looks really good, but it hasn't for quite some time. I tried to cut my bangs myself and I now look like a cross between a monk and Farrah Fawcett Majors. And sometimes I amaze myself with the way my brain works, and sometimes I wonder if my mom forgot to tell me about that time she dropped me on the patio. Sometimes I love people and sometimes I'm in the cave. Right now I'm about half in and half out of the cave. I had a party recently with my new roommate and did not end up cowering in the corner for any of it, but I did fail to notice that one of my guests had been hit by a car on the way there. I'm not balanced is what I'm trying to say here. Or actually, I am balanced, though it may come across as the opposite. Also I'm drunk a lot.

I used to tell people that I didn't like sports such as croquet, badmitton, and kickball (these are the games my family likes to play) because I hadn't a competitive bone in my body, and I didn't see the point. The truth is that I'm the most competitive person on the planet and also not very coordinated, and everytime I played croquet with my brother, who has won everything his whole life with no visible effort, I either ended up hitting his ankles with my mallet or stomping off mid-game, red faced and sobbing. Once when shopping in a Goodwill with my friend P., another closeted competitor, we had a silent standoff about a skirt with mallards on it. She had found the skirt, but it was really clear to me that she would never wear it, whereas I would have worn that skirt to threads. I'm not talking tacky preppy mallards here, I'm talking tasteful mallards flying above a lake printed on a perfect khaki skirt. We never voiced the battle, but words weren't necessary. There was a lot of uncomfortable laughter. She wasn't giving up the damn skirt because she found it. I thought something uncharitable about her on our way out of the store. As far as I know she never wore the skirt, and this still makes me feel ansty even this many years (10?) later.

I'm saying all of this, for some reason, because I decided today that I don't want to teach. For over a year I thought that this is what I would do when I moved. For over 6 years I assumed that this is what I would do with my life. I love kids, even the mean whiny middle school ones (especially them)and I love the schools here. I love the thought of summers off and long vacations. But I don't want to be a teacher. I just don't. And it's not because I'm mean and competitive and jealous. It's because I don't think I can really be a teacher and be completely myself. And when I'm not myself all I can think about is what a bitch I am and how I have to change (Exhibit A: my marriage). I want to be a bitch and be ok with it. I want to be me and be ok with it. I don't think I can do this and teach, at least not right now.

I'm working in an after school program right now with a lot of amazing 6th graders. They're writing and playing and saying all kinds of cool stuff. And I keep thinking that someone else should be there to witness it, someone who really would be there even if it weren't for the measly pay. I am not this person. There's this one kid with so many problems, and he's also so cute and weird and smart, and I just don't want to get invested. Not because I'm callous or a bitch or any of the other things I happen to be, but because I'm not a teacher. I think I'm not a teacher. This is one of the weirdest realizations of my life. My whole family is teachers. I am not.

So now I'm going to go figure out what I am. You know, in addition to being a writer. What I want right now is a big, boring job with benefits. A job where I know what I'm doing and other people come to me for answers. Where I'm a professional. Weirdly, this kind of describes my last job, which I thought I didn't like. Until now, I thought my options were office drone or teacher, but now that I live somewhere with more than one employment opportunity, I'm starting to see that my job may be doing something I never anticipated. I'm so surprised that I want the 9-5 thing. That's what I want. At least right now. So this is good to know. But I definitely need a drink. And drugs, drugs would be nice.