Ashes to Ashes

 

"Dumpster fire" by quinn.anya is marked with CC BY-SA 2.0.

Note: I wrote the body of this post the week of Ash Wednesday 2022. I haven't been able to post it until now because things were dicey with Chris's work-- I didn't want to put his position under any more strain than it already was by having his employer potentially see this. Since I wrote it, things continued to devolve and to become more and more untenable/hostile. 

He's applied to positions at other districts and had an interview or two. I've promised not to post this until things are settled with his old job and he's got another job lined up: if you're seeing this, they are, and he does. He starts an administrative position at a new school next week. 

Things are Chris's work are pretty bad. As I write this paragraph, my husband sits in the other room writing lesson plans-- the first time he's had to do that since school was all virtual two years ago.

 Up to this point, he's managed to keep work at work, and it's been something Chris takes seriously. He's gone a lot of weekends and evenings  in the spring for academic coaching stuff, but when he's home, he's home. The fact that he's bringing some of it home now is a pretty big deal, and a bit of a breaking point. 

The long and short of it is that his employer is taking him, and his willingness to help and investment in the community, for granted. 

My husband coaches debate and acts as UIL coordinator (academic competition events), both of which require him to work several Saturdays, has a daily bus route, is coordinating social studies state test prep for the entire junior class, runs lunch detentions, and....oh yes, teaches three separate subjects, all of which require a separate set of lesson planing and prep. And he has several mandatory meetings during his planning period every week, at a frequency that we recently found out is illegal under Texas law. 

A few days ago, on a Sunday, his principal sent him an email informing him that he was now also on the hook for lesson planning for ANOTHER class (to be taught by a substitute teacher, so said plans have to be detailed), and quite possibly come in to work after school and on certain Saturdays to tutor kids on test prep. 

Chris reached his limit, and the dung hit the fan. 

That email set off a domino effect that has led to a job interview for an administrative position at a new school district next week and multiple meetings with his principal. He's pretty much lost all faith in her and in the superintendent for his district, and he's actively seeking an exit. 

More and more keeps coming to light. He found out there's only going to be two teachers doing the job of four next year in his department. The overworking is only going to get worse. 

It's been hard for our whole family to watch this go down and to realize that it's time to move on. When one or the other of us is in a difficult season, everything downstream suffers. We've all been hurting. 

 But that said, I think it's emotionally MUCH  harder on him than me. 

 I won't say that the loss of his connection to this community is on the same level as a death or divorce would be; I don't think it is. I do think it's not that far off from it. The people he met in this place have shaped a very large part of who he is as a teacher and he's invested a huge amount of himself into building it up. It hurts to see it all collapsing. (Chris said it feels a bit like the end of summer camp, "you hope everyone will stay in contact, but all the good people are leaving and going their separate ways.") 

I guess that's part of anything you build or invest in on this Earth though-- eventually it fades and passes away. That's the way of pretty much everything, from business ventures to charities to city parks to households. No matter how well you construct it, or how good your intentions are the outset, it will decay and pass away. Whether through corruption, malice, or just the ravages of time. 

I suppose it's appropriate this is all going down over Lent. The time of year we're supposed to remember we are ashes, and to ashes we- and the works of our hands- will return. 

I just wish it didn't hurt so much to watch it all burn.