Friday Philosophy: Frustration

Small weights, individually not much, bound to my joints, dragging me down, generating immobility, accumulating.

Sometimes I want to turn away.  Sometimes it is not that I desire to do so, but that I feel that I must, if only for my own sanity.  But there are times when even so, I must push onward, searching for glimmers of progress, of hope, of the remnants of dreams.

Last spring I volunteered to teach one section of students how to use the computer with college-level proficiency.  These students were brought here under the auspices of the Educational Opportunity Fund.

Sometimes I should try to remember that no good deed goes unpunished.

I volunteered against my better judgment because I expected to be frustrated by the experience.  But it was an opportunity….for me as well as them.  Having marched on Washington in the aftermath of Martin’s murder so that the parents and grandparents of these minority students would have the same opportunities for advancement as you and I, how could I turn my back on them now?

But teaching college level computer skills to students, half of whom don’t want to be in college, is a recipe for discouragement.  Add to that my colleague dying in the Spring, which means I have had to carry an extra administrative load and discouragement has become an inadequate description.

It shouldn’t be that way.  This program was founded in the aftermath of the Newark Riots of 1967…so that these students might have the same opportunity for educational advancement as young adults from the suburbs.  One might hope that would mean more than it does to the young people in my class.  It probably does to a few of my students, but more than it should, this opportunity has meant a time to party for 5 weeks.  And turn in copies of work done by someone else as their own.

I didn’t march for that.  I didn’t contend with the mud of Resurrection City for that.

Nor did I march so that the people who run this program wouldn’t take their duties seriously enough to make sure that the students had both the time and the support necessary to pass the class.

This weekend I have a ton of grading to do, which I will weed through in hopes of finding some of the work to be of sufficient quality to pass this course…their only college credit course…which they are taking along with remedial classes in math and reading/writing.  I shall try to tap my inner Diogenes.

Frustration.  And I have one more week of it.  I’ll be showing them how to create web pages.  One might think that might be fun.  One might expect so.  But one might be wrong.

The fact that immediately after the end of this session, we have to move from Bloomfield to West Orange adds a bunch of apprehension…and more frustration.  Teaching the class has put a damper on any thoughts about preparing ahead of the move.

I should probably be upbeat about the imminent passage of the Defense budget bill with the Matthew Shepard Act attached, but that’s certainly a double-edged sword, isn’t it?  I applaud the passage of the hate crimes protection, of course, but the pacifist in me wonders why we have to swallow militarism along with it.  And frustration is served in huge dollops because of the so-called liberals who oppose trying to reduce crimes targeting our most vulnerable people.

Since when is trying to change the society for the better a bad thing?

Frustration.

And my vision is deteriorating once again, which is truly frustrating, as much as I enjoy reading…and creating my graphics.  Today Debbie and I went to the eye doctor to get her a new prescription for glasses.  But we can only afford to get one of us better vision at a time, so I will have to wait.

I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention the frustration we are all having at this Congress and the present political climate.  Sometimes it is difficult to even come up with something meaningful to say about that.

Lastly, I’m frustrated because I can do nothing about the frustration experienced by others.  Does anyone remember Lily McBeth?  over three years later, her frustration has reached the breaking point:  Transgender teacher in NJ retiring in frustration.  So this society loses another teacher…and a transwoman has to turn her efforts toward improving this world in a new direction.

Frustration.  As a world changes too slowly…or not at all.  And hopes may be dashed.  And dreams may evaporate.  And vision deteriorates, both for individuals and for a society.

Illusion Frustration Small weights individually not much bound to my joints dragging me down generating immobility accumulating Frustration As a world changes too slowly or not at all And hopes may be dashed And dreams may evaporate And vision deteriorates both for individuals and for a society Frustration –Robyn Serven –July 24, 2009