Can't complain (much)

At lunch I ended a long rant with the admission that I really can't complain, but my colleague pointed out that I had just been doing so at some length. So okay, I can complain, but right now the things I can complain about pale in comparison to all the reasons I can't complain. To wit:

I can complain about the weather--snow in the forecast on the first day of spring!--but the past few days have been gorgeous and my daffodils are blooming and our neighbor is getting ready to till up our garden, all signs that spring will inexorably arrive, and I can't complain about that.

I can't complain about the more than 200 students who have submitted abstracts to present their research or creative projects at All Scholars Day, even if it means I have my hands full double-checking schedules, reserving rooms, and getting their names in the right places in the program. They're doing their job and I'm doing mine, for which I received a course release this semester, so all those hard-working students are saving me from a section of first-year composition. I could certainly complain about a few colleagues who have been slow to respond to my queries or who haven't effectively motivated their students to submit abstracts on time, but what's a handful of intransigent people compared to 200 abstracts and a course release?

Lots of people like to complain about the need to submit book orders for fall classes this week instead of spending the summer dithering over reading lists, but the tight deadline motivated me to search for a play to put on the Honors Literature syllabus in the fall and led to my discovering what may well be the perfect choice: Father Comes Home from the Wars by Suzan-Lori Parks. Just reading the description and reviews made my scalp tingle--it looks like it was custom-written to fill that gap in my syllabus. What's to complain about?

And it's true that all my students are submitting papers this week so I'll be grading until my eyeballs fall out of my head, but on the other hand, I'm teaching Maus in one class and The Madwoman in the Attic in the other, so I'm getting a massive dose of perspective: I have the freedom to pursue a career I love without being locked up as a lunatic or oppressed for my beliefs. 

Nobody's perfect. There's always room for improvement. Sometimes I really feel like kicking someone. But you know what? I can't complain.