At a recent Technology Team meeting, our superintendent asked who would be interested in attending a national technology conference in Atlanta over the summer. Mildly interested, I checked the dates to discover that the conference begins a mere two days after I'm scheduled to have all four wisdom teeth removed. Um....no. Not going to happen.
However, what interested me most at that moment was the response of a few of my colleagues: "I'll have to check with my husband."
Yeah, that statement always makes the feminist in me kind of cringe in a "Are we still in the 50s?!" kind of way. But they are exactly correct: they can't commit to traveling for work until they check with their partner-in-child-raising. Even without kids, a four-day business trip is a family decision. That's only fair.
Ironically, were it not for my vestigial wisdom teeth, I would be the perfect candidate for such a business trip. I don't have any children to arrange care for. I don't have a husband who might prefer I not be missing for a week. My two cats will be fine on their own for a few days. And as I sat in this meeting, I almost felt as though I had to defend my decision to NOT go, as if my superintendent and everyone else were sitting there thinking, "Come on, Cathlina; take one for the team."
Actually, I feel frequently as though I have to explain my unavailability for events. Others will say, "I can't make that meeting," and everyone takes that as an answer. I say it, and there's an expectant pause, as if to say, "What else could you possibly have to do?"
This happens with my friends and family, of course, when we're planning events. I'm frequently not even asked about my availability for a specific date; it's just assumed that I'm always free. But somehow it's more galling when it happens at work. In my first teaching job, my principal would call me at home to come work the ticket booth at various sporting events. He knew I didn't have a family to abandon at short notice, and the common attitude across the school was, "Ask Cathlina. She's got nothing else going on."
More recently, a colleague told me she preferred me over another teacher for a promotion (department head) because I'm unmarried and "not going anywhere" whereas the other colleague is recently married and hopes to start a family soon. Um...thanks?
I get their point, and yep, it's true; I do have a more flexible schedule because I'm still single. But don't assume I have no life because I have no family of my own. And we're all getting paid to do the same job. I shouldn't have to take on more of the shared duties as some sort of "natural consequence" for not getting married.
Here's what Wally from Dilbert says on the subject:
So, maybe Wally isn't the best role model of singles at work, but he has a point.
Singles don't take sick days because our children are sick.
We probably aren't sick as often ourselves because we don't have children. (Though nieces and nephews can share germs pretty well, too, I've discovered.)
Singles don't have to rush out to pick up kids from school.
We have no one waiting at home for supper; it's easier for us to work late or attend those unexpected meetings.
We don't have to consult with anyone about our schedules.
So...if singles are taking on more of the collective work with our "laser-like focus," as Wally says, and saving our employers money, how about sharing a little of that wealth?? Just a thought.
And as I write this, I'm supervising a group of my Advanced Placement English students who are taking a 3-hour practice exam. On a Saturday. Do I do it because I'm single? No. I do it for the same reason I was recently promoted to department head: because I'm very good at my job.
