"Well done!" or "Weld on!"

Don't get me wrong: I love my job. I love my colleagues and I love my office and I love playing with words alongside my students, looking at terrific literature and trying out interesting ways to assemble ideas into sparkling syntax. But sometimes when I get tired of answering the same MLA format question for the 27th time this week, or when I'm facing a stack of student drafts starting off "In society today" or, for a little variety, "In today's society," or when I've been spending too much time in meetings full of busy people who seem content to merely tread water--when it all piles up a little too high I find myself thinking, "I could have been a welder."

Why a welder? I've never welded anything and I don't have any idea whether a welder's job is any less demanding or more satisfying than mine. Nevertheless, when I get discouraged with the way things are going, the alternate career I imagine for myself is welding.

Wouldn't it be better to imagine a more colorful career plan? I could have been a hot-air balloonist or a brain surgeon or President of the United States (except I get motion sickness and blood makes me queasy and political debates give me hives).

I could have run away and joined the circus. (As what, exactly? Trapeze artist? No spandex and spangles for me!)

I could have been a beach bum (except I hate getting sand in my shoes).

I could have been a princess (except look what happened to Princess Di, who would be my age if she weren't dead).

I could have been (and was) a journalist, but now journalism is morphing into something I don't recognize and I don't know whether what I used to do still fits anywhere.

I probably could not have been a welder, but sometimes it's appealing to think about wrapping myself up in protective gear and wielding powerful equipment that can make stuff stick together. The thought of producing something tangible, of setting goals and knowing when I've reached them, is very attractive. I don't always know whether my students have learned whatever I'm trying to convey in class on any given day, but if I welded something, success would be measurable (and so would failure): either the weld would hold or it wouldn't.

Today I'm collecting drafts in one class and giving a midterm essay exam in the other. I'll be collecting evidence of whether the welds between words and ideas are strong enough to hold, but the evidence is sometimes clear but more often incomplete or ambiguous or incomprehensible. And when things fall apart, it's often not at all clear why or what I could have done differently.

I love my job enough to keep doing it even when welding starts looking like an appealing alternate career. I couldn't have been a welder, but sometimes considering the possibility helps keep me committed to being a teacher.