It is 24th of July. My daughter just gleefully announced to her sisters “Yay, Mammy is going to play with us today!” It is a rare occasion – she is delighted and immediately somewhat cynical. I have been in school every day since the holidays managing a massive backlog of paperwork from this cruel school year, dealing with maintenance issues, appointment procedures, interviews, you name it. I feel sick listening to my poor child – this is how much this job is affecting my life – my children are constantly sidelined because I simply cannot do it all and the mortgage has to be paid. It’s all well and good to talk about mindfulness and wellbeing and work life balance, to sagely remind Principals to prioritise their health and families. The capacity to do this is not afforded to us. It is all consuming – not because we are neurotic workaholics – but because we are not given a choice. The kitchen sink is being fired at us and there is no end in sight. I am strongly considering following our young teachers out to Abu Dhabi where I might be at the very least remunerated properly for my work and have the remote possibility of some quality of life.
