Writing Rain / Sky and Earth
It is raining out right now (I had wanted to type “it is linking out”). The sky is linking with the earth. Electricity is conducting between both spaces through the medium of water. In my area of the states, to have rain in any amount is considered a blessing. I’m surprised we haven’t resurrected the rain dance. We don’t drive like it’s raining, however. Rain is such a foreign object to us that we don’t give it a fair degree of respect.
I am rethinking my career. Bam. There it is, like a bone to the face. I am getting bored with teaching. I wake up, and I no longer fear the classroom, which one could see as a positive. Like rain, I think I am no longer respecting it like I once did.
But the main reason is that I feel under-appreciated and under-valued. I come and go as a lone nomad, carting my office behind me in a rolling bag (looking like I am headed to some far-off land where relaxation and libations await). I teach classes where if the students aren’t on their phones, they wish they could be because I am boring them, and they are angry they are in developmental English when they took AP classes in high school (which is actually frightening), or they are angry to be in community college and not a four-year, and they want to go out with their girlfriends and drive fast.
Last semester I had a student who would show up every day to tell me why he couldn’t be in class today, that something life-threatening was going on, that his cell phone was smashed into pieces, and that he needed to take care of business. And hey, man, take care of business. Go on out there and try to tame this demented world with your bare hands.
Because I grew up in a culture bubble, I was not exposed to real things, one of them being music. My husband has been helping me see the beauty of things such as “When The Music’s Over”. The beauty of lines like The face in the mirror won’t stop. It wanted me to go find my old CDs of homemade/homebaked recordings from my sisters and I when we were dreaming we could be a band. It also reminded me that I didn’t go to school to be a teacher, but to be a writer, and that maybe, just maybe, I’ve been trying to fit into a square hole when I am round, I am fluid.
“We’re getting tired of hangin’ around / Waitin’ around with our heads to the ground / I hear a very gentle sound / Very near yet very far / Very soft yet very clear / Come today.” I’m getting tired of hanging around a corporate culture that pretends it’s educating people when for the most part it churns out degrees so people can get paid more money. And “more” is relative. Oh, now you can earn $13 an hour instead of $10 since you have a Bachelor’s. And why haven’t I realized how gendered that degree name is anyway until this very moment?
I’ve also just realized that, damn it, I want to feel appreciated, valued, and irreplaceable. I think I could feel these feelings in another line of work. I am none of those things as an adjunct. Instead, I am a lone woman carting her house on wheels because the cake has already been divided and eaten a long time ago.
I think writing and working with language is one of my birthright gifts from God. And I think I need to stop quenching it and let it free. I need to let the rain fall.