Becoming a bit wiser

Being wise to wisdom is what I’ve sought for many years. I work hard; I am kind. For reasons I might be able to accept, although not articulate, I have remained in middle management roles and without as much influence on other teachers as perhaps I desire. Or, at least, perhaps not as much formal (or even coercive) influence .

I am happy instead in my outsider status.

Right now, on this Thursday, I am nearing the end of my time here in Dubai, for this year at least. I have six days left. In those six days only two are of work and even those are remarkably easy. Such appreciation of time has made me happier. For six months I've kept a calendar. In that time I have ticked off every day.  The last week or so, in fact in the past three weeks, has been a time where I taken responsibility for exams, speaking and socialising in a way that I wouldn’t have chosen to in the past. I have taken these things in a way that has made me proud. I can see that this has given more of a pattern and a place in things.

The latter half of the year, however, has been flavoured by a tiny number of remarkably antagonistic colleagues. My emotional response has been spikey and uncomfortable. Their pattern has been clear: in all cases there exists gaping insecurity. One risks losing their job entirely with unduly hostile emails, tempering them with occasional and simpering cuteness. The other seems self-absorbed, literally never returning basic greetings or engaging in pleasantries: very young and strangely vacuous. The final is furious that I didn’t support a promotion beyond expectations; on more than one occasion she has approached with tremendous hostility. That I didn't fight them is testament to my wisdom. That I wanted to, and still will, try to help them is just right, although not necessarily desired. Together with the Blues Brothers, these aren’t my people. Working with them all, and managing one, is a learning curve. It makes me want to forgive many of those who wronged me in the past; it cleanses me of all past sin, it feels!

Alas, perhaps the most notable detraction of my time here in the sand is the quality of conversation with most of my department. These exchanges are almost always underwhelming and often tediously fractious. This doesn’t seem to be the case elsewhere in the school: for me this is a very small school, the size keeping us apart. In all these people is some good stuff; in some people there is great stuff. But the people I must meet daily are amongs the least nourishing I have met. I must find a way to be.

The best thing of this year, in contrast, is a noticeable improvement in my public speaking; in the warm vibrations of my words in my chest I feel service. I have led debate with appreciable success; I have MC’d four Shakespeare finals (with two more last year); I have delivered very many assemblies and other presentations. Yet it was only at Christmas that I was lamenting how I had chosen a field that requires huge social and cultural capital, and the ability to speak well. A boy from Wolverhampton with a stutter has done well.

Another great achievement in the latter of the year is my planning of a KS5 literature curriculum with intention. For so long, too long I have planned for myself, critiquing and striving for betterment. And now? I can directly inspire others. Whether that can be done adequately in classroom teaching is something else, but I have a year to try.

This summer, though, I will engage and write and read to the standards I hold to myself. I will record this elsewhere, complete and reflect.

An ambition I need to achieve is to take the time to qualify well for myself. I want to train in Microsoft, Apple, and Inspiration. I want to complete my MA essay. While only three sentences, these are the things that will remain on my CV and will push me forward, especially in the way that I will do them. These are perhaps the most important things that I will happily miss out.

And so I want to improve myself in a way that I feel that anyone can do for themselves by seeking change. I want to move to a school, or at least a place, that allows intercultural conversations. Truly, the people I really like here are those who had to follow someone else. Admittedly I have saved money here in a way that I simply could not have done elsewhere. And I have some great friends, too. There will perhaps be some reason to stay next year, but likely not reason enough.

More than anything, I want to realise that after growing up in Wolverhampton that I treat those who antagonise me with either aggression or indifference. I have made the privilege of removal, of not having to suffer those, or let them suffer me. Time to change? Let’s see.

I fear(ed) being organised will/would lose my spirit

About five weeks ago I planned a post about my fear that being organised would lose my spirit. In that time a monstrously dominant woman, heavy with disdain and suffering a colandered esteem, left to raise a child. In her absence, I needed to get a handle on the leadership of my department, or at least part of it. This post is about where I was those five weeks ago. It is not very organised but it is honest.

My understanding time management is still a little naïve. I can get things done professionally but I don’t really prioritise my social or spiritual life. I concentrate on the physicality of time management, using either a to-list app (which has its flaws of item corruption) or calendaring (which I find very hard to do). Calendaring has in these past weeks become easier through retrospective completion. I have also printed out a physical calendar to sit next to me. The presence of the work calendar coupled with the writing in of tasks each day means that I have a greater sense of this time passing. I feel happier.

My happiness comes in a psychological change from the ‘redouble your efforts’ approach. Today, for example, I have woken up later having slept at 4am and imbibed five glasses of wine. My immediate ambitions are to write this, to read and to play chess. Such thinking in the morning, easy enough with Ramadan meaning I start at 8am rather than 7am, makes me feel better and nourishes my mind and mental health. How much planning do I need to do? How often have I taught with a few prompts of thought? What do I really expect to achieve in extraordinary planning? Do not the days require some rhythm instead? The truth of this can be simple. 

I think, therefore, that to discover and create life-rhythms realistically and responsively is a difficult yet worthwhile ambition. During these five weeks, I have increasingly faced my need for dopamine hits and distraction and found a little more happiness in cleaning and the mundane. I lay down more on my sofa more. I drink water.

However, the distractions of petty games and social media are insidiously entertaining. I consider five minutes a long time to play a game of chess and even now I popped away to hit a bullet game of one minute. In that place, or at least with it, I have wanted to read. But I have feared reading. I have feared the time it takes and I fear the potential wasting of time. I have felt that reading demands an energy that classroom teaching saps. Yet I have read very well these past five weeks. I think my fear should be directed towards the constant partial attention I pay to my phone. Do I want to feel this distracted? Do I want more of this or not?

Instead of this malaise, I declare this: the way I organise myself in the world forges my spirit. Organising others and myself defines us in an ongoing fashion. For too long, perhaps sixteen years, I have lived holidays where I do not plan where I will go. These holidays seemingly last forever, lived as if I will not die. I risk become husked. Within this empty time I find I can easily deprioritise socialising: not just in not for planning it, but also in not responding to invites. See Danny Wallace’s Yes Man. Therefore, I need to build in days of not being organised, of planning my time and of not planning my time. That is something I am doing.

Perhaps underpinning all these desires to be organised is the need for energy. Being healthy will give that energy. Keeping my small room and unfortunate classroom tidier will grant more energy (not that I need more in the classroom!).

All these things will make a better life. But the important thing is to wake up and to see what culture and what body and what mind I meet with. The idea that there is needs to be perpetual progress is philosophically bunk. Instead, there needs to be a sense of flourishing, of accepting change and getting better as illusions of the same. Change is inevitable and often without control. Yet I will instigate great change in 88 days by handing in my notice.

The feeling of flourishing is the key to the human spirit.   

Casual boredom and threat: speaking of, and inspiring, discipline

This evening I notice an air of casual boredom and threat that makes me both weary and wary. It stems from quirks of my own perception as well as some facets of my immediate bosses. I feel it has stopped me from working and being my best for far too long. And for some reason, I feel that the act of writing might clear this noxious air.

I often speak of inspiring discipline. The rhythms of my words and the pattern of my mien mean that young people want to think and question and feel as I do. I may not be a literature or a history man entirely, but these are fields that stoke my mind. What I am, with certainty, is someone who wants to feel achievement each day. This depends on my connection to family and friends, connections that I have not always nurtured. Living internationally as a bachelor, I wonder what I might replace these social connections with. And I question if I might replace those social connections with something duly of the mind and heart. Yet not every connection needs to stimulate such ambitions of the mind, as well I know.

Far greater nurturing of my mind comes with the reading of others. That is cheap, somewhat; it is also very expensive. Such reading also feels remarkably difficult. My thought can become hyper-eager, and my phone far too distracting. For decades I have wanted to read easily and at length: I haven’t really done either. I find easy excuses about how a busy life crushes reading and writing aspirations: since January that has been the case. Yet does it? Might not I be able to control the stillness of my mind and instead focus on far better things than I suffer here?

Once particular sufferance that affects me now is the insecurity of my immediate boss. We do not really speak; at least she does not to me. And such insecurity might apply both ways. But I will assert that she is threatened by my culture. I am not entirely sure what my culture is, but my values of thought, earnestness and conciliation challenge how I see her perception of addressing the job – corporate, efficient, utilitarian. On a more personal level, I feel she is threatened by my eccentricity and my looks. I refuse to suffer cosmetic correction on my teeth or skin. They are fine. And I stand by the quirks of thought and the playfulness of my immediate mind. They entertain me and others. On at least three distinct times I know my conversation has been unduly shut down in the community of practice which she perpetuates, and happily. In contrast to the reductionist ineptitude of her apparent approach, I value complexity, and I value craft: I desire to critique mine and others to the nth degree. To balance that critique with earnest support leads to respect, I feel. 

In response to my ambitions and values, I experience daily coercion. It is unpleasant. Yet, as with the range of unpleasant adult distractions of car and work problems, it need not define me. It is not a language I need to use outside of the set hours for which I am duly paid (the community of practice has its purpose there!). 

As I near 40, I do not think I need rely on the language of inspiration to read and write and live as I think I might and should. The language of inspiration is not really the language of discipline. Like I wrote elsewhere, the act of planning each day is alien to me, even as a bachelor. I am waking up at 5:30am or 6:20am – farcically early times. Sometimes I nap after school, which is not a bad idea. But organising the time of myself is perhaps easiest done when I need organise the time of others. I still feel there is an infinite mass of summer holidays in which to read and become when of course there clearly is not.

In that space of organisation are two worthy projects. The first is to plan my MA and in particular my next essay. The other is to complete my Key Stage 5 textual study, for next year and from here until I die.

The planning of my MA essay will hopefully be better with the inspiration software I have picked up. Too much time is taken trying to somehow organise larger points using programs like OneNote and Word. It is muddled and difficult. I think if I can devise ideas in my essay, and plot and connect key points in my literature review, then I can actually begin to produce MA essays with the skill and thought that might make more study feasible. I think my associative thinking has always been strong: more efficiency and cogency should be my focus. Both of these depend on finishing my first reading soon and then contacting my tutor. I will do this very soon.

Finally I will aim to complete more efficient and skilled textual study for my Key Stage 5 role. Quite simply, I have told my team that they need to know the texts expertly. To do this myself, I need to create academic booklets that not only give the lesson-by-lesson content, but also to plan judicious enrichment for our best students. I think after each lesson we could possibly offer space for Cornell note questions etc. All of this will be a magnificent step forward in what I have done before, and in what I have seen. Such enrichment also requires, I think, greater planning of the social and wider-enrichment side of the curriculum. More on this later.

And so an hour later, having written this thousand word treaty that might be also well-placed on my non-anonymous website, I feel that the air of casual menace and threat has somewhat lifted. It exists still: it will not dissipate. But it does not make me so ill. In its place I feel some argument and confidence arises. I have stated my reasons for living as I do. That is all I need to do. 

Another day of reading and organisation thought, expression, reason

Another day stands ahead of me. I have read much in these past four weeks, and in doing so feel that it is both cohesive yet nuanced. Both combine.

I have woken early each day.

And now I have apparently three tasks for today. Let's refresh Wunderlist. It bumps to 27 tasks. The time is 7:40am. Some gentle administration of films to show in the literature society and financial adminstration sees the list drop to 22. Some reallocations and task completion later and the list is 16. 30 minutes later, the list is down to 8. I have completed useful tasks and the day ahead is shaping up.

And so I find myself here, and now, with 6 tasks to do. One is administrational (claims...), another is the preparing of materials for selling meeting with the HoDs of Geography and History. I am using an inspiration map to aid the meeting: it will be interesting to see how this works. I suspect well.

And so it took me 90 minutes to complete the Wunderlist claims etc.

Almost a whole day was spent waiting for brake pads to be fixed. I saw the children of my friends (who are out the country), and checked on them. I then wrote a review on Goodreads which made me feel smart and worthy. Perhaps these book reviews will be better for my mind from here on in?