Manual Labor

I just finished painting the second of two rooms in our house over the course of the last two weeks. Chris did help some where he was able, but, as the person who's home during the summer, the task mostly fell to me. Now, aside from a few missions trips I've been on and a spurt of mini home improvement tasks right after we signed for the house last summer, I've not done a great deal of manual labor/fix-it work in my lifetime. I certainly wouldn't say I'm great at it, but I've found myself very driven to finish the task(s) as reasonably well as I am able. I must say that I have more of a sense of accomplishment with these two rooms than with any assignment I've ever graded. Perhaps it's the visible reminder of my accomplishment. Perhaps it's know that the time I've invested actually produced something tangible (and, no matter the innovative teaching methods used, how can you really ever know how much--or if at all--any assignment has really improved someone as a person?). I do acknowledge that my friends and family in the blue-collar labor force work hard and do very tiring work, but sometimes I wonder if manual labor--provided it's something you at least somewhat believe in and doing something you enjoy reasonably well--wouldn't be a more fulfilling way of life, at least until your knees and back go out. At least then you could say, "I produced 98 widgets today," or "I built 27 houses last year." No one is impressed, including me, when I say, "I graded 75 speeches this month," or "I've read Oedipus Rex eighteen times in the last three years."