Balance in Autumn

Study has intensified. It's no longer a matter of my own education. The education of others seems to be hanging in the balance of this semester. I grasp wildly at information, hoping to commit it to memory. Giving up hope. Straining. Rededicating my hope to Christ. But then grasping again.

I am reading On Being a Teacher: The Human Dimension. It says the most important characteristics of a teacher are charisma, compassion, egalitarianism, and a sense of humor. I think I really agree. My favorite teachers have displayed these traits.

It talks about how teachers must live a balanced life. Our lives are on parade at all times. We have the duty to be the most well-adjusted people possible. That means, occasionally, setting down the book in hand, and going to greet fall. Unfortunately, all caveats from my professors regarding balance seem to be aimed at a time in the future, not the present. They set up a useful conundrum: maintain balance, but most of your life should be comprised of schoolwork. One might as well pay to learn the lessons of balance.

It's not their fault that I swim in books. There is probably no shortcut to understanding the lesson plan, or to creating an effective, safe classroom environment. It begs to be studied. And I feel that I am studying for dear life!

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I watch from the center of an indifferent crowd, each one a mandate to give or take.

How important we all are in our glorious busyness!

Rusty fall comes in, beautiful, a friend from ages past,

magnanimously bowing boughs, dipping her head at each guest.

But I cannot move to greet her, disturbing all these guests.

I must not go to greet her, although she is my friend!

She smiles from a distance, a look of understanding.

Dear friend, mentor, forgive me!

We cannot talk for now.

I'm confined to entertain a host of urgencies.