I was a little nervous about this semester. I’m teaching more than I have in a while. Nothing close to what I taught as a high school teacher, but more students than I had this past fall. I was worried that, after hibernating during winter break, I wouldn’t be fit for human company. Maybe I’d gone feral.
It turns out there was nothing to be nervous about (there usually isn’t.) I’m a few weeks in and, as is usually the case, really enjoying my classes. Doctoral students. English majors at one of the top English programs in the country. I’m working with some delightful people this spring, doing some good things. It has been nice to have a little more teaching as part of my routine this semester, even if it means more time and energy from me. Sometimes spending time and energy on something important is better than hibernating.
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I can be frenetic. I’ve got lots of creative energy and things can get ugly when that creativity gets pent up. I’ve spent a lifetime finding productive ways to use my energy. Writing. Acting. Improvising. These have been avenues for me to spend some of my intensities.
Teaching has been, probably, the most powerful way I’ve found to positively channel all of the stuff inside of me. The final line of my best-selling memoir (and by best-selling I mean worst-selling) Playing with Sharp Objects speaks to channeling energy. I wrote something about how there was no place I’d rather be than floating around a classroom as a teacher, building something with my students. I don’t know why, but using my energy to create contexts in which other people come together to make stuff, to think about stuff, and to transform together is just about the most satisfying work I’ve found. Most challenging work, too. I’ve spent over twenty years working as an educator. Learning to channel my frenetic energy to build healthy pedagogical spaces.
The work of teaching mostly thankless. My salary speaks volumes. And it is also true that most of what I think matters about what happens in classrooms isn’t rationale or easily measured. The ways I’ve affected and been affected by people aren’t easily quantified and, honestly, the specific memories fade with time. Still, something good comes from building something with others. As I’ve mentioned a billion times, Kurt Vonnegut wrote that when you build something your soul grows. How much more does your soul grow when you devote serious time to building something with others? I’m twenty years in now. I have a big soul. And an empty bank account.
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It’s been nice to channel my energy with my students over the last few weeks. I’m feeling healthy and strong. Here’s hoping that lasts. I felt overwhelmed and defeated last year. Weak. Struggling with a new job and a new place. Stressed out and worried about my blood pressure. My aging body.
I’m not the same teacher I was in my twenties or thirties. But I’m a riff off of that person. Hoping to develop into a calmer, more sustainable pedagogue as I approach my mid-forties. One that keep channeling my energy for a long time. It might be better to burn out than to fade away in punk music but a teacher should last a while. Getting better with age. More wisdom. More intention. More knowledge about how to build spaces where people can come together and transform and, in so doing, transform reality around us.
That’s good work.
Samuel Jaye Tanner 