Rudderless Again

I never wanted to teach. Every time somebody reacted to my choice of English Literature as a majoring subject by saying I'd end up a teacher, I used to bristle with anger and stamp out any such ridiculous notion. On that front, the only thing I can say in my defense is that I am not teaching English Literature or even English for that matter. I took on teaching as an experiment, when I was quite completely rudderless and lost. That it proved to be the only anchor in my life for the longest time is perhaps one of the reasons why I am so stubbornly passionate about it. I should be fair, it has brought me immense pleasure and satisfaction. There is little else that makes me feel as happy as I do after a good class and the satisfaction of seeing a class pass from my class and go on to a higher level is difficult to beat. And of course there is the undeniable joy of students staying in touch...

Today for the first time in 4 years, I am forced to question my decision and wondering if it isn't time to change tracks and perhaps move on. The sense of fatigue, defeat and disillusionment is so great I almost don't feel like going back into class tomorrow. I hate this feeling and it makes me hate the people who are taking away the one joy I could count on, replacing it with doubts and uncertainty, almost as if I was rudderless and adrift. Again.