Years ago, I was driving a pre-schooler home when, out of
the blue, he said, “Sometimes I use my mom’s.”
“Your mom’s what?” I asked.
“Toothpaste,” he replied, the incredulity in his voice
implying that, of course, I should’ve seen the activity going on inside his
head.
Coming home from work is a little like that. The other day,
Fred showed me a photo on the digi-camera screen and said, “Guess what I did
today.”
Hmm…I looked at a photo of what appeared to be two identical
pieces of stainless pipe, each about 6 inches long, lying on the kitchen
counter. “Um, you got all the plumbing supplies to nap at the same time?”
Turns out, he’d fixed a vexatious garbage disposal that has,
for the three and a half years we’ve lived in this house, “burped”
semi-disposed waste into the left hand sink while we were trying to dispose of
glop in the right hand sink. It’s never been at the top of our repairs list,
because, while it is annoying, we are composters so we don’t in-sink-er-ate
much, and, having a septic system, we need to keep it that way. However, Fred
had happened to see the perfect solution while visiting the local hardware
store for some other need, and he’d solved the problem. The problem of the
garbage disposal, that is. The problem that I can’t read his mind still
remains.
The truth is, when I leave here at 6:15 to travel the 11.5
miles to work, I flip to a different channel. The problems of home generally stay
at home, as my time, mind, and attention change channels to meet the demands of
administrators, colleagues, parents, and well over a hundred students, all of
whom seem to have pressing needs that demand my (immediate) attention. I don’t
flip back to the home channel until I’m retracing my steps along I-97 some 10
or 11 hours later.
Now, the channel switching analogy probably won’t answer to
Fred, who watches TV with remote in hand, giving partial attention to two or
three shows at a time. But I’m a DVR watcher. I plan my viewing ahead of time,
record the show, and rarely start watching until it’s far enough in that I can
flip through the commercials. When the show’s over, I delete it from the DVR.
So for me, focusing on the problems at hand are sufficient –
in fact, sometimes more than sufficient, as it takes all my admittedly limited
personal resources to cope with the variety of tasks required for the 10+ hours
in which I hope to complete them. There
are days at work when the sheer enormity of what needs to be done RIGHT NOW
overwhelms me, and I scarcely accomplish anything. The only way I maintain
sanity is be making lists, creating priorities, and assigning each task a specific
time slot. And then I WORK – as in, full focus, all out, no interruptions
brooked, work. Okay, I do get a lot of interruptions, which is why that planned
10 hours often stretches into more, but that’s work life.
Home life is different. Tasks are not as immediately
demanding. If something doesn’t get accomplished today, it can be completed
tomorrow. There will not be class after class of 30 rowdy students entering at
the sound of bell for whom lessons must be planned and copies must be made. Administrators do not pop in unannounced, clipboard in hand, ready to score parents down for failure to have outcomes prominently posted and explicitly embedded in each aspect of the day's lesson. Sure,
the boys have to be fed, laundry has to be done, but it’s not all predicated on
the relentless schedule of a bell, and if beds aren’t made, or kids are late
for their appointments, Fred, for one (emphasis on the one) is fine with that.
He can enjoy the serendipity of the moment – oh my, the
perfect piece to fix the garbage disposal, will you look at that – and instantly
change his priorities for the day.
Truth be told, I’m envious, but I can’t spend time thinking about it. After
all, I have 63 essays to grade by Tuesday when grades are due, and yep, someone will be checking up on me.
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