Once Upon a Time I Was a Teacher

Except that I never got to teach. Or rather, there was no one to teach. Unbeknownst to me, I was hired to recruit students who I would then teach, but no one wanted to be recruited.

So, once upon a time I was a teacher. For about three days, I tried to coerce students into showing up for my class (although why they would want to when they could be getting credit for talking on the phone and instant messenger instead is beyond me).

Now I'm no longer a teacher. And I know I'm not a failure, because I was never even given a class to fail. I know that if I had stayed I would have gotten to a point of frustration in which I would simply break. I know that I would not have slept, would have spent mornings frantically coming up with a strategy and afternoons ripping my hair out at an administration that doesn't give a crap. But this is just another one of those things that brings to mind the ever-present question, "What does it all mean?" Because I wanted my job to mean something. I wanted my actions to mean something more than how I pay the bills. I wanted to inspire. Maybe someday I will, will get a chance to succeed. But for now, I just feel a little sad that I tried my best and I didn't succeed. That I had such high hopes that were never quite rooted in reality. A nagging feeling that I gave up too easily.

I think I did what I do best- I dodged yet another bullet. In relationships, in jobs, in life- I'm getting better at realizing when things just aren't right, and cutting them loose before I get too invested, too hurt. That helps, but it doesn't pay the bills and it doesn't keep me warm at night and it certainly doesn't give me a fuzzy feeling inside.

I guess I'll just have to live with that.