Working at a school is a frustrating experience. In the most juvenile sense, it's like spending hours and hours stacking and interlocking intricate towers of Legos. Crenellated battlements, soaring peaks, and strategically placed portcullises. The medieval masterpiece had a distinct start, and now has a clearing finish--a goal. While it may be not soon completed, it slowly takes shape with unprecedented care, spilling into the adjacent hallw--ey what the shit!?
And just like that, your tireless work is gone. Knocked over without a second thought.
I've always been too painfully shortsighted to see the current product being cultivated--all I see is the time sacrificed toward the final outcome where the pile of blocks have been scattered across the floor.
My mother used to love Legos. Used to always say that the great thing about Legos was how they could inflict mortal wounds in unsuspecting feet whenever we left them lying out--professionally transforming any dimly lit living area into a Vietcong-approved barefoot deathtrap with just a few well-placed blocks.
Actually no. She never said that. Plastic axles and sports car windshields embedded in her heels got her mad-raging pissed. What she did say though, was that Lego creations were great because if something broke, you could always just build it again.
It's true, but the worst thing about building something all over again, is that you have to toil through the same steps, and surrender the same amount of time to risk producing a potentially inferior second version of the same original outcome.
If this shitty metaphor serves to illustrate anything, it's that we begin a new school year on Monday, and I have to start all over again. Nothing but these Legos in my heels to prove I did anything redeeming with last year.