Monday, 7 January 2013

Freedom

Here I am, sitting my arty-crafty writing room, day all planned out. I've planned it out to make sure I have purpose and rigour to my day and don't wander aimlessly as one is wont to do on these grim January days, staring into space, playing stupid computer games and, even worse, getting sucked into day-time TV. So, I've already seen to the cats and the hens, done some housework, checked e-mail and got the household accounts up-to-date. And done a bit of reading.

And from now until 12.30 I am writing. Got two ideas on the go at the moment. Both need my attention lest my brain bursts.

At 12.30 I shall have some lunch and read - 1 hour - then go for a brisk walk.

Should be home by 2.30 and then I shall do something arty-crafty. Either sewing, or knitting, or making cards.

At 5 I shall start getting dinner ready. Do a bit more housework. Eat dinner, tidy up, chat with Andy about his day.

Then I've got three hours-ish of the evening where I shall read/jigsaw puzzle/ do a bit more sewing (because if I get into sewing it all becomes a bit frantic and obsessive) or maybe do some more writing (ditto sewing). I shall stop for half an hour at 9 p.m to watch 'Miranda' on the telly because she makes me laugh.

And how is it that I can have such a lovely day? Because I am no longer a teacher! Today, my previous colleagues are back at school for the start of a new term. They are having a staff training day. At this exact moment they are sitting in a cold school hall being lectured about how to keep today's generation of children engaged by using the latest all-singing-all-dancing methodologies. They are being told to do this, do that, do the other, tick several (pointless) boxes, fill out lesson plans, analyse their very existence and then write a six page report on it. I expect the word 'Ofsted' has been mentioned at least a dozen times by now, along with 'performance management' and 'data analysis'.

And I can feel the rumblings of discontent, the mutterings of unfairness, the gurglings of irrationality tainting their atmosphere.

I am here. Writing. Listening to interesting stuff on the radio. If I want a cup of tea, to nip to the loo, to get up and dance around in a wild and hippy fashion, then, well...I can!

I have freedom!

Of course, freedom doesn't pay very well. You can't pump up your bank balance with the income from freedom. But freedom produces profits of a more valuable kind...

...a calmer mind...
...better sleep...
...time to be creative...to enjoy life...
...happy face...
...reduced stress...

Of course, there are still pressures. Got to be careful with the money until I start my part-time tutoring work, hopefully next month. Got to keep motivated to keep writing and SEND STUFF OFF and NOT BE COWED BY REJECTION. Got to keep writing myself a plan for each day to make sure I use time effectively and productively. Got to start taking risks and seeing just what is out there beyond the very limiting world of being in full-time paid employment.

But, ooooh, the freedom! I am so lucky.

3 comments:

Andy said...

Shout 'boo!' at rejection and kick it round the room! You are its master

Olly said...

I'm so envious! Not that I teach, but I would love to be at home all day although I suspect I'd do a lot of frittering. Follow your dream - and keep plugging away.

Denise said...

Frittering is a constant danger, Olly. I am doing my best to guard against it...especially the type involving sugar-coated apples in batter!!