Inspiring in spurts--waiting for Rhythm

I finally joined the NCTE (National Council for Teachers of English) and subscribed to their English Journal, a professional Secondary English teaching journal, only three years after my English Education professors started suggesting it. At the time I was a budgeting student who couldn’t afford to relocate rent and food funds to anything of less immediate import. I forgot all my good intentions of joining NCTE and reading the journal after graduating and beginning to work. Having recently awakened to the joys of good journal/magazine writing at my fingertips via my kindle (yes, I caved; it didn’t take much) I suddenly remembered the English Journal and have just spent the last couple hours reading articles on such subjects as digitalk, political power writing communities and motivating students to care about in-class writing.

And now I’m thoroughly depressed. I’m a third of the way through my teaching year, just finished one incredibly crazy first term that I started running and finished in an exhausted heap, and I just don’t know how the teachers who write these inspiring articles have time to, first of all, think up such passionate, creative lessons, second of all, teach planned passionate and creative lessons, and third, write about it! Okay, so some of my lessons this year have tried to be creative and go beyond the text book basics but mostly I feel like this term has been one long circle of assigning and marking with little time to be passionate and create. And if I’m feeling like this… my poor students! I’m not sure what it is. This is my second year; I thought it was supposed to get easier, Professor Vande Kopple? So far, this one is much more out of control than my first.

I long for time to read and think and plan and create so I can question and challenge and prompt and inspire but all I do is assign and mark and edit and administrate!

What is the answer? Is there an answer? Maybe it’s just to wait this time out, to try as much as possible to not be completely sucked into the whirlpool, to inspire in spurts as I come up for air occasionally, and then, when there is a rhythm (oh, please, let that be a rhythm on the horizon!) maybe those spurts can slowly become long, deep, luxurious breaths.