I've just got back from a dawn surf this morning - well, pre dawn, that delightful three quarts of an hour before the sun comes up. The place I often surf sees the moon set over the land and the sun rise from the water, and if you're lucky and everything is timed just right, both. This morning's sunrise was extra-extraordinary. It's not the picture below - but you get about a hundredth of the idea. I wish I'd taken out the GoPro as I've been meaning to. This morning the moon was so high and bright it was casting a path of white on the water that we were literally surfing along. The clouds were gigantic, alien spaceships, dripping with globules of pink and grey as the rain cut through on the horizon in giant sheets. A single star blinked behind the veil. The three of us out were just dying with the beauty of it.
Even on a busy long weekend, if you get out early enough, you can get a few waves almost to yourself. Tourists don't seem to get out of bed til after sunrise, and locals presume it'll be too busy to bother. It's a secret time.
When I get home, Jamie's already up - it's only 7.30 am and he's at the table with a pile of physis papers and a sad look in his eyes. That's pretty much been nearly every morning of the holidays - two hours of marking before the day begins. It's the only way he can get through all the IB and VCE physics and maths marking he has to do. I honestly don't miss that side of teaching. I swore I'd never mark another essay again, though I'll have to. It wasn't even so much marking essays, just begin forced to after school, before school, midnight sessions, dawn sessions, holiday sessions.
You might say, well, that's what you are paid for, but the work load for teachers is so enormous that weekends and holidays should be a time of resting and recharging.
When I worked at a private, fee paying school, I used to work marking on the weekends, but we also had to do Saturday sport. Mine was tennis. Jesus I hated tennis. I didn't have to coach, thankgod, only supervise - mark the roll, or get them on the buses for away games. The away games were the worst. Some days I'd have to leave at 4.45 am to get to school to get on a bus for 5.30 am to get to the other side of Melbourne, and wouldn't get back til 2pm. I remember bringing piles of marking on the bus with me.
I don't think people have much sympathy for a teacher's workload. They believe it's what we signed up for, but we didn't really - we signed up to teach and inspire kids. It's a great gig in that regard. But all the other stuff that goes along with it is back breaking, and it seems to be getting worse. Teachers are dropping out of the profession and there's a huge teacher shortage, and not only that, no one wants to sign up for teaching. Their bandaid? Rather than make a teacher's load a little easier, they're just offering free education for new teachers this year.
It really does take a lot not to burn out these days. Older teachers are cynical and jaded, and new teachers are working themselves half dead before either taking a leadership position to teach less (and, from a cynical old teacher's perspective, do less) or just going and finding another career.
All over the state this weekend teachers are trying to enjoy the last of their holidays whilst spending some of their weekend planning, doing last minute marking, or thinking about work in some way, except for PE teachers (sorry, couldn't resist).
I'm working a contract this term I'm looking forward to, in a way. It's only part time, so I sure as hell won't be working weekends. I wouldn't have taken it on if that was part of the deal. But tomorrow, being Sunday, and me not having planned a thing yet - yeah, I'll probably be working. Who am I kidding?
But then, it's not the only job I've had where I worked weekends. But fifteen to twenty years of hospitality is an entirely different story.
With Love,
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