Tirebiter Comes Back for More, by George Leroy Tirebiter XII

So, I’m back, at least for this round of… thoughts? “Pensées?” Well, whatever.

Wherever I share my opinions, if and when I have them, I guess it would have to be here—-as many of you may be aware, the Chronicle forum closed, and some of the regulars built a new space. But since the founder and inveterate thread-killer is a long-time House Troll, the unholy amalgam of Frederick Winslow Taylor (of Time Management theory); Thomas Rhodes (the arch-villain of Edgar Lee Masters’ Spoon River Anthology); and Scut Farkus (of A Christmas Story); that venue’s relevance will be limited to pretty much nil (as, perhaps, it always was).  If you’re so inclined, you should check out what the leader did to an otherwise semi-interesting discussion about Steven Salaita—jeez. I’m reminded of one of the last lines of Flannery O’Connor’s “A Good Man is Hard to Find”: “She would have been a good woman . . . if it had been somebody there to shoot her every minute of her life.”  Note: this rant is not meant to be gendered—-I would find the line appropriate irrespective of the correct pronouns involved.

Speaking of pronouns, did I mention I’m using them now? I mean, yes, we all use pronouns—-I’m referring to the “Hi, my name is blank and my pronouns are blank, blank, and blank” kind of using pronouns.  Someday, I think I’d like to say “my pronouns are blank, blank, and blank” and let my audience figure it out.

I’m starting my ninth year here at possibly-second-tier state school, and I’ll turn 56 in about six weeks.  I’m not ready to go up for Full Prof yet-—maybe next year if I get my ducks in a row, but I’m reasonably happy.  The kids are still special needs and full of beans, but we’re a family, and the wife and I are in it as we become caricatures of “those parents”-—I see it happening in the mirror every day, wherein my features become more and more cartoon-like-—and not Pixar animation, but closer to the world of Spongebob. I might dabble in some department administration soon—-I’m supposed to take over some Assistant Chair responsibilities in the spring, and I’ll see if I can do that with any success. I am more or less genially tolerated in my department, with a few hiccups here and there, and in general the genial toleration is mutual (that’s about as ecstatically positive as I get). My main goal was outlined for me at a Leadership Institute I attended last month-—I’m seeking to “perform calmness.” I like this, because you don’t actually have to BE calm—just do what calm people do. Worth a try, anyway.

I’ve talked a little about “work” and “life,” but one thing upon which I’ve given up is the “Work-Life Balance”-—it’s kind of bullshit, I think. (You know what else is bullshit? That famous quote by Eleanor Roosevelt-—“No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.” Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit. You do not need to consent, because words can be powerful as fuck, and they will knock you on your ass before you have time to say, “Uh. . .”  I mean, I could almost hate that woman because of that quote, and I mostly think she’s very cool. Anyway, back to the paragraph.) Work and life don’t balance, and they’re not meant to. If there’s anything to be done, I think it has more to do with leaning into and embracing the work-life chaos-—because chaos is what’s meant to happen, and happen it most certainly does. Or to put it another way, there’s no way in hell I’m getting the three kids on two separate busses and umpteen different activities and try to negotiate the simple concepts of respect and consequences and occasionally keep my marriage intact and the missus refreshed, and still try to attend to the students, colleagues, administrators, and other miscellaneous minions who have a say in my work environment in a way that’s balanced. Now, accomplishing this in a way that’s chaotic-—there, I’ve got a chance.

All right, then. That felt okay. I might be back later. Tirebiter out.