"It's just work... just f*ck it."

I've been extraordinarily stressed about the upcoming semester. Part of this is normal pre-semester jitters, but a lot of it is due to the aftereffects of my hip surgery that I had earlier in the summer that have made me ridiculously unprepared. (You can read all about it on my other blog.) Now, I'm not going to lie, I never feel as prepared as I want to be at this point, but I really am ridiculously unprepared at this point. I'm also not going to lie and try to blame it all on my hip, as my motivation even before hip surgery was pretty much zero, and I actually worry that I'm using the surgery as a crutch (both literally and figuratively).

But anyway.

My husband noticed my stress this evening and commented on it. I replied that I was extremely stressed about work, for a multitude of reasons. His response was, "It's just work... just f*ck it." And trust me... I GET it. There are times when I do want to just f*ck it. In the large scheme of things, the stuff I have to deal with at work is small stuff, and it is not worth worrying about when that worry is robbing me of valuable, quality time with my family. But just f*cking it is much easier said than done, and I actually had a semi-epiphany tonight in response to my husband's suggestion.

I always try to produce quality work and set reasonably high standards for myself. At the same time, I am not a super duper ambitious go-getter, either. Obviously. As one of my fellow instructors pointed out to me today, "We are plain-bellied Sneetches." I am okay with a position of mediocrity, and I've done plenty of uninspired and mediocre work in my lifetime. But. I can't settle for mediocrity in my current position. For one, it is a mediocre job, and to be mediocre at a mediocre job is too much mediocrity for me. Also, I don't really know how to do my job in a mediocre fashion. For me, it's all or nothing. Some of this is probably because of the nature of my job; lecturing to large numbers of students and then trying to have in-depth conversations with them one-on-one during my office hours really goes against my introverted and somewhat anti-social personality. (As one student described me on my evaluations, I seem "distant and hateful.") I have to put on a completely different persona to do my job; I call it my teaching persona. On any given day, it's either on or it's off. There's not much in between. I just have to work for more on days than off days, because off days are a disaster, and too many off days could lead to me not even having a mediocre job to be mediocre at.

But the thing is... my inability to just f*ck it is more that this. What I realized today is that if I do not do my job well, ultimately, it is my students who will suffer. And I'm not okay with that. As bad as it may sound, I'm okay doing mediocre work for a mediocre boss who doesn't really value what I do. If it were simply a question of writing a report for some jerk who didn't really care about me, I'd be fine saying "just f*ck it" and turning in some BS crap like I did plenty of times in college (though admittedly, I'm a master when it comes to BS - no mediocrity there :)). Or, if I worked in a store... I would totally not have a problem not folding all the clothes neatly after customers messed with them, if I didn't feel like it. I understand the disgruntled workers at the DMV or at X, Y, Z other place who roll their eyes at you when you ask a question, and are totally not helpful - after all, what does it really matter? I even understand all the people who work in food service who say they spit in your food before they give it to you. I GET it.

At the same time, I have a really hard time purposely saying just f*ck it to students. Of course, some of them are complete jerks, and are a major contributing factor to why I want to quit my job on a daily basis, but the rational side of me knows that most of them are not, in fact, jerks. And it is the students who aren't jerks, with whom I make a personal connection, who make me see my job as something worthy of doing.

In my five years as full-time faculty at my school, I've had the honor of interacting with a variety of students. Most of them have a lot invested in their education. And I mean a lot. Many of them are first generation college students; some of them have gotten to college only by way of their entire extended families pooling their money for them, in hopes that one day they will not only be able to have a better life for themselves, but also provide a better life for their extended families. (That's a lot of pressure for an 18-year-old.) I also have a fair number of 20-somethings who joined the military straight out of high school because it was the only way they thought they could go to college. Now, in their late 20s, they have returned from war and have seen things I hope most people (including myself) won't see in their lifetimes. You better bet they are expecting a lot out of their education. I could go on and on about the stories I've heard, but the point is that it is simply not fair to these students if I just say f*ck it to my job. For the average student at my school, it is too much to ask of them to understand my anger over my salary (I'll save salary for a different entry), over my department's dysfunction, and over the unfairness of the university's policies. These things aren't their problem; they are simply trying to better themselves and their lives and the lives of their extended families. And they have extremely high expectations.

A while back, while waiting for my orthopedist, I had another semi-epiphany. I realized that, aside from the obvious fact that an orthopedist makes about $300-$400K/year more than I do, my job is a lot like an orthopedist's job. After suffering for about seven months with severe hip pain, and 15 years of on and off pain before that, I had really high expectations for my orthopedist. I can imagine that my students' expectations of me are similar to my own expectations of my orthopedist. We are desperately clinging to hope - the hope of things being better.

Hypothetically speaking... suppose my orthopedist were pissed off at his practice because he's bringing in a lot more money than he is being compensated for, or what if he were angry because he is working 60 hours a week for X salary, while his colleagues are working 40 hours a week for 2X salary? Or what if he were angry because he didn't get the respect he felt he deserved? Honestly, that's not my problem. When his practice bills me $180 for a three-minute visit, I don't care what issues he might be having with the practice; I still expect him to be able to tell me something I don't already know or to at least just refill my prescription already!

Orthopedists are obviously very busy, as am I. I never set out to be a crappy or mediocre instructor, but the reality is that I have many, many students and there is only one of me. Even with my reduced  50% course load, there will be 150 students and just one me. Unfortunately, some of them will fall through the cracks because it is not humanly possible for me to help all of these students in the way they may need helping. I am guessing it is the same with orthopedics. I don't think my orthopedist set out to be a crappy orthopedist, but just like some of my students, some of his patients will fall through the cracks, and at the moment, it seems as if I'm one of them.

Karma sure is a bitch.