This was not my best semester. Originally I attributed it to the presence of a multiplicity of problem children, but in that estimation, I neglected thus far to consider that I might be part of the problem as well. Not to make excuses, I entered this semester much different than any other, fresh off the heels of great loss in August, and intending to do my duty. My students could tell, at least those who had taken a course from me before, that I had changed. As much as I tried to keep it to myself and keep it out of the classroom, it was many weeks before they got to see the good things in me, and I lost more students than I like (net and gross) as some bailed early in the term.
I know that I am a somewhat tragic figure. I told my best friend last night how tired I grow of doing what I ought only to get shafted in the end. Years ago, I bought a print of Picasso's Don Quixote, because I empathize with that character. I will go and tilt at windmills sometimes knowing that, even though I may not be able to defeat them, they ought not be simply left there to exist. This term, as I have been apt to do in the past, I showed up out of a sense of duty. I had a job to do. I was paid to do it. I went into the classroom intending to do well. I was unable to keep my own loss out of my candor, and for that I apologize.
Years ago, I decided that because I was capable I would be responsible. Consequently, I sometimes take on more than is wise or advisable because I don't see anyone else standing up to take the reigns. Sometimes I do this to fill my days and nights with productive and useful work because without that, as I do now, I sometimes lounge around the house doing nothing of much worth. Duty gives me purpose. Duty is what animates me most of the time, and so it's probably one reason why people are put off or intimidated by me. They see me only when I am actively engaged in useful work. What they don't know is that the rest of the time, I am pretty much exhausted.
After a student spoke of the Noah movie trailer a few weeks ago, I watched it over and over several times. I found Noah even more inspiring than ever before, and I wondered as I watched from whence his strength came. Then I realized that he had a help meet at his back who encouraged him to look to God and believed that God directed him in his life. I often lie awake at night and wonder if God really does speak to me, if I heard His messages correctly, and if He's pleased with my poor efforts. I don't really know. Unlike Noah, I lack a help meet or anything like unto it, and so I muddle around most of the time without another perspective on which to draw or another mind to temper my own. I am down here doing the best I know with what I have, and quite frankly, there is little to show for it, at least that I can see.
Now that the dust has settled from August and I have recovered somewhat from the losses, I feel more able to do well. They often speak of a broken heart, but the events of that month made me feel as if a Dementor had sucked out my soul, as if I would never be happy again. Consequently, I defaulted to duty, and I took to the lecturn with power devoid of passion, and I think the students suffered. It was not their fault, but as much as I tried to shield them, I think they were hurt. I fulfilled my obligation to the institution, and nobody seems to have complained, but I wonder if the complaints against me were not justified.
I feel reset to where I was years ago when all I had was duty. On my honor, I will do my best to do my duty to God and my country. If it's not good enough for you, I apologize. I pray you will be merciful to me for my weaknesses and learn to be wiser than I.
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