When I transitioned totally from student to teacher a few years ago, my standard anxiety dream changed as well. The old student standby of ‘I show up for the first day of classes, only to discover that they have been going on for weeks and I am behind, with only one night to do all of the (math, statistics, science) homework sets,’ only to discover that I can’t read the book because it’s a dream. This last was usually a relief, as it allowed me to wake up and be done with the dream-cramming for the dream-exam in the dream-class that I was doomed to fail.

Later, the teacher version of this dream went something like ‘I show up for class, I’m totally prepared, I’m zipping along, and suddenly the entire class starts rebelling, leading to a near riot.’ The first time I had this dream, I woke up totally perplexed. Why were my students out of control, why? Then I came to recognize it for the place-holder that it was, and didn’t pay much attention. It varied slightly over time, just like the student dream did, but it was always that same basic formula, ending in me abandoning all hope of any kind of pedagogical endeavor and just trying to get out of the classroom.

This week, I had my first not teaching anxiety dream. This is the first February since the 70s that I have not been connected to an educational institution as either student or teacher. In looking back, I did have two autumns away from schools (the first year after college, and the first year we were in DC), but in both of those years I began teaching in some form by February. So, truly, this is the first year I’ve successfully resisted the urge to rush back to an institution of learning in some form.

Thus, the dream: I go to the university where I used to teach, agree to teach several classes, then go to another university in town and beg them to let me teach two literature classes (one on camping as it appears in American literature, and one on fulcrums), all the while figuring out how I’m going to have time to run back to the first university and quit my teaching job before classes actually start…that afternoon. Conflicted much, subconscious? I woke up from that one thinking, ‘Why was I begging for a teaching job, only to decide immediately thereafter to quit it? Why were they going to hire me to teach in the literature department? Why was a class on fulcrums the second most popular literature class after the Shakespeare seminar?’ I’m not sure which of these burning questions was the most perplexing, honestly.

The upshot? I’m torn about breaking my lifetime association with the institutions of education. After this dream experience, though, I’m even more curious to see what new opportunities come along once I successfully resist the siren call of the teaching profession.