It’s past two in the morning, again. Can’t sleep, again. My mind just keeps replaying little things from the school day, every single day, every day. Like today, a young one — fresh out of college, probably still has poster glue on their dorm walls — was showing off some new AI thing that writes lesson plans. And I just... I stared at the screen, nodded, made some vague, approving noises. Internally, though, I was just trying to remember where the damn ‘save as’ button even IS in that program, let alone how to make it write anything useful. I feel like I’m constantly on high alert, scanning for cues, trying to mimic competence. It’s a drill I know well from my time in service, that whole ‘act like you belong until you actually do’ bit. But back then, the stakes felt clearer. Here, it’s just… a slow-motion fear of being found out. Obsolete. Irrelevant. I’ve got a whole list of keyboard shortcuts taped inside my desk drawer, you know? For all the apps these kids use. Control-Z for undo, Alt-F4 to close, Shift-Delete to bypass the recycle bin. I can rattle them off like I invented them, but if you asked me to explain the *logic* behind them, or troubleshoot a damn printer that’s acting up… forget it. My stomach clenches just thinking about it. These young whippersnappers, they just tap and swipe and *know*. They grew up with it. Me? I learned to take apart an M16 blindfolded. Different skill set, I guess. But sometimes I wonder if that’s just a fancy way of saying I’m a dinosaur. A relic. Anyone else feel like they’re performing a poorly-rehearsed play every single day just to keep their job? Every day, it’s a tightrope walk. And the worst part is, I used to love this job. Truly. The kids still bring me joy, that’s the honest truth. But this underlying current of anxiety, this constant feeling of being ‘less than’ in the staff room, it’s draining me. I just want to teach, to inspire, to share what I know. But instead, I’m memorizing obscure software commands like it’s a new set of drill instructions, all to avoid looking like I belong in a museum. Am I the only one who feels this profound disconnect? Like I'm speaking a completely different language from everyone else in the faculty lounge, even though we’re all technically speaking English. It’s exhausting. And I don’t know how much longer I can keep it up.