Another in a Series of Fuck You

 Honestly exhausted, waking up at 4 or 5 a.m. these days in a kind of mild panic. This morning at 4 involved rage at people who have done literally nothing wrong, and are just living their lives. Unpleasant. A cascade of weird judgmental resentment, followed by anxiety over the unfinished in every area of my life. The weirdest red tape snarl has been a constant, trying to onboard at Ginormo U and transition to being a Californian. The last set of hurdles, California-wise, involve the bloody DMV, a nightmare of pandemic dysfunction. I'm very close to tying up everything Ginormo U-wise, finally, after more than a month. 

Meanwhile, trying to get comfortable with remote teaching, and working on getting a sense of exactly what the reasonable parameters are regarding pace, scope and sequence, etc. Building out two courses from scratch. I think the weirdest part of the curriculum design process is simultaneously trying to adhere to national and state standards while wanting to incorporate angles that fit the courses to the culture of the school. I need to come up with a name for the school I guess. Idealist Academy? Something. 

One dynamic I've been amused by is the hardcore dedication of the staff, reflected in hard work and long hours, and meticulous attention to detail in planning and language. I have seen this many times in many Idealist Academies, and it's a wonder to behold, and it does mesh with my own perspective on the very high ideal of teaching and learning. But then, inevitably, the students arrive, and insist on being themselves, no matter the amount of energy and work the adults have put into crafting the opportunities for the students. There is inevitably a period of adjustment. I believe the process goes a lot more smoothly when there is a ton of leeway for young people to be themselves. Quite apart from the expectations of all the starry eyed adults in the arena, students end up largely setting the real agenda anyway. 

I do sense, after a first week of orientation classes, that my students generally have high expectations, and that's great. I wonder where all the places are that we are going to really meet. 

It feels like the adults often compose and arrange a measure by measure piece to be read down by the students, envisioning a kind of Blues and the Abstract Truth session, and then the students arrive largely in the mode of Brotzmann, Bennink, Mangelsdorff. 

The trick is to negotiate meeting places. 

Anyway, in the midst of all of this, I am wrestling with inner critic madness, as that voice of self hatred tends to be rather harsh these days. The latest castigation is "why are you such a goddamned open book? Why do so many people in your life know everything that is going on with you, and yet they have told you next to nothing at all? Why do you expose and overshare so much? No one gives a shit about you, your experience, your stories, your opinions, or your life. No one gives a shit so shut the fuck up. Would it kill you to have some secrets?" 

It's a strange line, representing a fundamental lack of trust, currently, I suppose. I'm often perfectly comfortable being an oversharing autobiographer and documentarian. But lately I have been feeling like people hate me for it, or, at least, that they find me stupid and ridiculous and pathetic. I've also been wondering if I ought to just close out this blog. Readership is down, and was never very high to begin with. I think the post with the most page views is at like, 30 views. My inner hater is severely judging my story, my writing, my narrative, as just being stupid as fuck. Nice. Then it feels like a rebellion to write. It feels like a fuck you just to journal. It feels like a middle finger to the universe to take up any space at all, much of the time.