Netflix

I gave in. I signed us up for Netflix. I'm tired of another episode of Law and Order though now the reruns are ones I've not seen. It's surprising how many I haven't seen since there are some I've watched four or five times. I'm tittering on becoming a TV junkie again, but I'm trying to fight the urge...hence, Netflix.

The first DVD we rented was "Rivers and Tides", the documentary about artist Andy Goldsworthy. It was interesting. It was slow, but after spending our days with pre-adolescent children who ask a billion questions and demand our instant attention, slow was good. Slow was relaxing.

And just when I was really getting into the movie, it got stuck...froze, as DVDs tend to do in our DVD player. At least I think it's because of our DVD player. We once watched DVDs on a really expensive player and the disc froze then, too, so who knows why it does that, but it did it right at the end of Rivers and Tides and well, it kind of ruined the relaxed instrospective mood.

Still.

That sense of introspection stayed with me throughout the week especially after my Dean of Faculty confidentially informed me she was looking elsewhere for work (she doesn't make enough money as a single mom to support her two kids). Ironically, she can make about $25,000 more as an administrator in public schools. Which got me to thinking...how much could I make if I moved back to public school? I compared my current salary with Ann's public school pay scale and I was shocked that I could make $13,000 more.

It was enticing...but only briefly. Middle school teaching in the public arena means 125+ kids, 6 periods a day, and very little collaboration with colleagues. Students aren't as motivated as my private school kids and then there's all of those administrative headaches. Plus all the things we can't do, like field trips and integration of curriculum and having an actual conversation with every parent of every kid in my class.

Is that worth $13,000? Probably not, but I make enough...I don't need more. Yes, I'd like more, but I don't need more.

Yet when I found out that our Dean was working on leaving, I cried. I really like her. I really appreciate all the work she's done to get us organized and moving forward. She understands education. She sees the big picture. She's reasonable. She listens. She's helpful.

I cried for many reasons, but one of the compounding factors is that my teaching partner is also trying to leave for the very same reasons...money.

Here's where the introspection turned a darker shade.

The last time I struggled with depression, I came to understand that it was triggered by loss -- my dog had died, my teaching partner at the time took ill and left teaching leaving me to make a huge career decision, I'd had serious back surgery that limited my athletic abilities, I'd turned 40...blah, blah, blah.

Little red flags go off when I start to see the losses pile up, like cars on the freeway. Red flag -- Chester dying. Red flag -- struggle with my long-time friends (which is better, but still feels awkward). Red flag -- my teaching partner is going to leave. Red flag -- the Dean (who I consider one of my anchors) might leave.

I check myself each morning -- where's the darkness? How far away? How close? Can I touch it? Is it in me? Is it hanging over me? I measure my anger...is it reasonable, is it rational, is it justified? I count my tears -- what time of the month is it, is this menopause or is this depression? I watch for cynism-- is there a reason for it, is it coming out of my mouth at a constant rate?

It's like radar, beeping silently atop some unmanned lighthouse. How close am I to crashing onto the rocks?

Not close. I know I'm really not that close, but once you've crashed your vessel, the dangers seem much closer to the surface, much more threatening then they actually may be. If the captain of the Titanic knew when he set sail what he knew the second his ship hit the ice, would he have made different decisions?

Probably.

So I walk around with this darkness monitor, observing the needle as it lifts up when I find that two people I really like working with are going to leave eventually and wondering, will the needle stick, will the needle keep rising? Or will it ease back down, slide enough into the light that I can sleep peacefully at night?

It may seem like a stretch, but these are the real reasons I signed us up for Netflix. I don't want to be a TV junkie watching Law and Order episodes to the point where I can recite the dialogue. I want to watch Andy Goldsworthy build these incredible rock cones that tumble into heaps before he has time to finish them. I want to hear him say, "That's the way of understanding -- seeing something that was always there but you were blind to it."

That's how I feel about living with depression. Those threatening rocks on the jetty. Those dangers just beneath the surface the lighthouse keeps trying to warn me from.

It's always there...it's just now, I'm no longer blind to it.