>the noise of a thousand accents

I left the classroom and fell into the loop. After years teaching History to teenagers in a single town, my days became hundreds of voices from all over the world — each with its own accent — spinning in my head as I decide, task after task, whether the machine got it right.

It’s strange to make a living correcting an intelligence that many people believe will replace me. But it’s here, in this noisy grinder, that I’m learning to orchestrate instead of merely obey.

Some nights the loop is just noise. Other nights I can hear a pattern in it — a shape to the work, a direction to the days. I’m not sure yet which one tonight is.

Nobody warned me that leaving one place would mean entering such a dizzying whirlwind — and, even so, one so alive.