The Gift of Time

geralt via Pixabay

 Every once in a while, I have a semester where I teach only two classes instead of three, and this semester is one of those semesters. In addition to having one less class, one of my classes is much smaller than usual, cutting the number of students I typically have in a semester almost in half. 

While teaching one less class is not a boon to my bank account, it provides me with the gift of time. For about the first third of the semester, I sternly reminded myself not to get used to this, as I'd return to a full course load in the fall. Enjoy it while it lasts, I told myself, but don't depend on it.

Then one morning, I realized how silly I was being. Holding my breath and tiptoeing through a lighter course load without enjoying its benefits was rather like telling myself I shouldn't enjoy a week at the beach because next week, I'll be home again and back to reality.

From then on, I began treating my days off more like the gifts they are. While I rarely take non-teaching days off completely, I do limit the amount of schoolwork I do on those days. My guideline for those days is personal and flexible: I do enough to keep myself from stressing over the work that needs to be done. The line between not enough and just enough is blurry (mostly because it's a moving target), but it's working for me.

After my realization, I began to really appreciate the benefits this gift of time has provided. My house feels less out of control because I have more time to keep after the day-to-day tasks that slide when my teaching schedule is more demanding. I have space for my writing, and space to do the creative part of course planning that so often gets pushed aside. I've created new assignments and lecture materials, revamped things that were stale (I hate it when I bore myself because it's a sure sign I'm boring my students as well), and had the luxury of adapting some of my materials to be a better fit for the students who are actually sitting in front of me. I've had time to read, connect with friends, and relax in the middle of a weekday -- all guilt-free.

The gift of time is something to treasure. We can be practical with it, tackling something that's long overdue, or we can splurge, reveling in the opportunity to do something we don't normally have time to do. Or maybe a little of both.

But the one thing we can't do is save it. The gift of time arrives when it arrives and departs on its own schedule as well. We can't bank it, and perhaps that should be reason enough to give ourselves license to be impractical with it when we're lucky enough to be its beneficiary.

What would you do with the gift of time?