“I have some crazy issues with overcommitment.”

I posted this on facebook tonight to which a friend of mine who is also a professor replied with this pithy comment, “Tell me about it sister! I do the same thing. All the time. I can’t say no. When will we learn? How many mental breakdowns will it take? I’ve already had 3 in the past few years…so, my answer is n>3.”

And she’s right.  I’ve certainly had more than 3 mental breakdowns due to overcommitment.  In fact, even my students (who have only been with me 12 weeks) know about my compulsion to overwork.  Case in point, one of my students frantically e-mailed because the dropbox for my assignment closed 15 minutes early (it was 9:59 pm when he e-mailed).  I was, of course, online and promptly logged in, changed my deadline to compensate for my 15 minute “human error” and responded back to him.  He then replied, “Thank you for you quick response, I wish you and your family happy holidays.  I would tell you not to work so hard but I know you will anyway =).” Wow, it’s that obvious, huh?

Academia could probably be renamed “Overachieving Workaholics Anonymous.” And, since this is the case, I’ve clearly been destined to be an academic since childhood.  Let’s examine the evidence, shall we? In 6th grade, I was assigned to read a second book because I finished a first novel before all my other classmates.  I not only read the book, but then proceeded to write a summary of the book set to the rhythm and melody of “Don’t Worry, Be Happy.” In 10th grade, I had 100% going into my high school honors chemistry final so I asked my teacher, who didn’t give A+ grades if he would give me one if I got every question on the final correct.  I did and he did. Then, I became a teacher, which for someone with a tendency towards being an overachieving workaholic is pretty much like crack for an addict.  Lesson planning, curriculum design, assessment, professional development, mentoring, leadership roles, developing relationships with students–you name it, I did it. And I still do, as an academic, except now there’s the added aspect of original research as well.  And I’m competing with a bunch of other overachieving workaholics.  Result: work harder or soon I’ll just be a workaholic without tenure.

But when I stop and take a moment to reflect, I realize that this isn’t really who I want to be in my life.  Entering teaching and academia really shouldn’t be about the seemingly endless piles of assessments and to-do lists that grow by the hour.  It should be about students, my students and their students and about growing critical thinkers rather than overachieving workaholics.  And again I’m reminded to do the assignment myself, to be the change I wish to see in the world, to remember what my real calling is.

Originally, I meant this blog post to talk about identity (namely in reference to how students refer to me, hence the title) as well as talking about my workaholic nature, but now I see that writing has taken me down a different path of exploring my identity and the whole name thing will be left for another day.  I’m okay with that.  It is a journey after all.

And admitting you have a problem is, I’m told, the first step.