I Work to Live Not Live to Work
I have been sleeping a lot lately. And I wake up late. I'm not proud of it. I feel I'm not productive. And getting really lazy. There are days I'm ok and days I'm not. I tend to compare myself to the time that I was still working. I was burnt-out and unhappy but at least I was bringing home an income. Now that I'm no longer working, all the more I feel I SHOULD be happy. And the greater the pressure to feel like that, the worse I feel at the end of the day. People are strange contradictory creatures. Hence I sleep and sleep, sometimes I think it is to forget my own existence.
Four months ago, I resigned from a job that was taking away my sanity. I loved teaching but after 22 years, I reckon enough is enough. Two colleagues had passed away in the last two years out of illness and at least
five others had physical conditions that made it necessary for them to be exempted from certain duties. I suspect many teachers suffer from some kind of low grade depression. 12-hour days in school were the norm. Not only do teachers grade pupils' work, department heads (who also do teaching and marking) evaluate teachers' work and sit for long ranking sessions to determine the performance bonus of each individual teacher. Everything is about evaluation and control. And so if you are still wondering, this is where Singapore's great PISA (Programme for International Students Assessment) results come from. For administrators who have no qualms about demanding standards and pressuring schools to give results, teachers' work-life balance is the last thing on their agenda.
On work days, when I came home, the first thing I wanted to do was to shower and head straight for the bed. Imagine a life lived without rest days. Weekends were used for marking and admin work. I snapped at people, particularly mom, even if she was simply reminding me to drink the soup. I got impatient with the boy when my instructions were not followed or when he had to wait for my instructions to settle down to do work. Whole weekends were spent marking or preparing for meetings. I had mental demarcations of time parcels for things to do but there was never enough time to use. I was in at least 15 work Whatsapp groups where messages were received even on Sunday evenings. I was constipated and unhappy. Watching TV, even for half an hour, was a luxury.
Today I made apple pie. And this evening I'm going to attend a briefing at the boy's school. Life is good now. I must treasure it. I will go on. And be contented.
Four months ago, I resigned from a job that was taking away my sanity. I loved teaching but after 22 years, I reckon enough is enough. Two colleagues had passed away in the last two years out of illness and at least
five others had physical conditions that made it necessary for them to be exempted from certain duties. I suspect many teachers suffer from some kind of low grade depression. 12-hour days in school were the norm. Not only do teachers grade pupils' work, department heads (who also do teaching and marking) evaluate teachers' work and sit for long ranking sessions to determine the performance bonus of each individual teacher. Everything is about evaluation and control. And so if you are still wondering, this is where Singapore's great PISA (Programme for International Students Assessment) results come from. For administrators who have no qualms about demanding standards and pressuring schools to give results, teachers' work-life balance is the last thing on their agenda.
On work days, when I came home, the first thing I wanted to do was to shower and head straight for the bed. Imagine a life lived without rest days. Weekends were used for marking and admin work. I snapped at people, particularly mom, even if she was simply reminding me to drink the soup. I got impatient with the boy when my instructions were not followed or when he had to wait for my instructions to settle down to do work. Whole weekends were spent marking or preparing for meetings. I had mental demarcations of time parcels for things to do but there was never enough time to use. I was in at least 15 work Whatsapp groups where messages were received even on Sunday evenings. I was constipated and unhappy. Watching TV, even for half an hour, was a luxury.
Today I made apple pie. And this evening I'm going to attend a briefing at the boy's school. Life is good now. I must treasure it. I will go on. And be contented.
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