When my grandmother died about 18 years ago, I retaught myself how to crochet. (She had taught me when I was younger.) That year, I decided to crochet something (scarves, primarily) for everyone in my family for Christmas. I did a great job, and everyone was really appreciative of the gifts, but I burned myself out. It was a long time before I picked up my crochet hook again. When I hear people talk about writing the way you described your class or movement the way you referred to the gym bros, I wonder if those things that should give us the most joy become chores instead. (Incidentally, I have concern that UIL Performing Arts in Texas can have a similar effect on middle school and high school students’ love of the craft of making music. And, it’s possible that concern stems from personal experience.)