The First Day
Updated: Jun 11
It’s the first day of the rest of your life. And mine. One thing to say it, another to feel it deep down. One is left wondering what those years have worked on the mind and character. I read a fascinating article on that very subject this week. Here is an excerpt:
The technician is deeply calm and reassuring. Probably, they feel, all problems in life are a bit like the technical problems they have mastered at work. Most things can be put right, if you don’t panic and work your way down a checklist.
The TV executive has a fragile sense of self. They are quite aggressive when they think they are on top but fold quickly when they sense the wind moving against them.
The dental hygienist becomes bossy. They are so used to having to upbraid people for being lax, it becomes a habit.
The freelance writer, who is always having to grudgingly mold their work to the demands of others, becomes used to feeling misunderstood and under-appreciated. (I guess!).
How would teachers be described? How much does their work and environment mold who they become? Well, they are usually the smartest person in the room (although not always). They must be in charge (most of the time). They are constantly giving advice (not always on subjects they want to talk about). And they witness triumph and tragedy on a daily basis. So, what do you think? Am I describing an emotionally burned out bossy know it all? I have my opinions, but I do want to keep this in mind as time passes. I hope I can find out how much of what we have become is a function of our work environment and whether, most importantly, if we can keep the good parts and shed the bad.
Here is a passage from the new book:
The forest they walked in thinned out two days later. The thaw had begun, and the snow melt made the ground slippery and wet. They were all tired. The afternoon sun shone weakly through thin cloud. But it did shine. White was turning to brown and dirty grey. The group crossed a shallow but swiftly running river, iced over only in places along its edges. The Stoney, Conor thought it was. Typical Southlander practicality. The Stoney River. It was very cold. They speared a few fish there, or at least Eromil did. On the far bank they stopped, made a fire and ate. Gray had his raw and then scouted ahead while the rest of them made camp on the sandy shore.
Have a great week and I apologize for the late delivery.