I have heard about it my entire career. The causes. The symptoms. The preventions. And, all of my career, despite the warnings, I’ve always thought myself invulnerable, resistant to that which catches too many–sometimes too soon: burnout. Am I burning out?

No. Maybe. Yes? I don’t know. I don’t think so. But I think–about it, so does that mean I am in danger? I mean, if I am wondering and worrying, am I wavering? Are there signs? Am I reading the signs? Am I ignoring the signs? Am I just tired? Is it just the time of year? Am I doing too much? Am I losing touch? Am I…getting old? Am I?

I often paint teachers in metaphors. Teachers are trees. Teachers are ghosts. Teachers are chameleons. But some days–lately, too many days–I wonder if we aren’t candles. And like candles, if we burn too brightly, or stand too long in the wind, we lose our flame.

But, of course, like candles, we can be relit–even many times, but eventually, the wax wanes, the wick withers, and the candle’s no more. And then…

We remember it’s just a metaphor, a figurative, dramatic casting of what it is to be teacher in those moments when the wind warns, and we step inside so our flame flags no more, and we faithfully face our days as burning beacons for the eyes seeking light in our rooms.

Wind is born of change. The temperature changes and wind wakens. Maybe that’s the wind I feel of late. Maybe change is on the horizon. Maybe I need a change. Maybe I need a break from change. Maybe I just need a break. But such a thing is unimaginable as I think about the eyes waiting for my light, as I cup my hand around my flame, sure I can protect it from the wind.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will experience…

…connecting through Smiles and Frowns.

…growing with grammar.

…growing as writers.

…reflecting in our Journey Journals.

…hearing a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Friday, all. Sorry for the downer this morning. I really am okay. My flame’s just a bit low right now. The winds will calm. They always do.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.