My title, "That's All a Mule Can Do: The Ethics of
Balancing Work at Home and on the Job," demands an explanation.
Scholars, reporters, and working parents attempt to describe the
balance between work on the job and work at home with many
different metaphors. Indeed, the word "balance" is itself one of
the most common.1 Some have objected to the use of
balancing language because, among other things, it suggests
something precarious and subject to imbalance or falling.2
Of course, that may be precisely why people choose the metaphor of
balance to describe the interaction between employment and
family—because imbalance is always a near possibility and often a
present reality.
There are other images used to describe this
tension—juggling, navigating, even white-water rafting.3
Of course, depending on the state of the water, the size of your
boat, and the quality of your crew, navigating and rafting seem
more than a little precarious. And juggling is just as subject to
falls and errors as balancing, though not normally quite so
dangerous—depending on the objects juggled. In the end, however,
the biggest downside of all of these images is not so much that
they are precarious, but that they are a little too exciting and
creative to fit the sweet drudgery and ordinary homeliness of much
of our work on the job and in our homes.
So, I have come up with another image that comes from a
work-related Southern saying: "That's all a mule can do." My
mother recently reminded me of this as we were talking about the
many sayings that praised hard work. One of the favorite work
maxims in my family, a family of extremely hard workers, was
passed on by my schoolteacher grandmother, who had grown up in a
sharecropping family and escaped the poverty of her childhood
through hard work, a passion for education, and her relentless
obsession to give her family a better life than she had had in
rural eastern Arkansas.
Wagging her finger, she admonished her family, "Good, better,
best. Never let it rest, until your good is better and your better
is best." Some family members and I are convinced that this saying
and the obsession looming behind it are responsible for our own
obsessive
work habits on the job, at home, and in our communities. If we
want to remind each other of the seemingly excessive expectations
of our heritage, we have only to wag our finger and say,
"Never let it rest."