October 6, 2022- The little guy was too put off by a work page that was way too crowded and busy for a person with his special needs, so he got under his desk. A classmate said that was where B went, when he got rattled or scared.
The lead teacher has known these students for six weeks, and directed the child and his paraprofessional to a much easier page. Fortunately, the children have alphabet charts and number lines, to back them up, when working on such pages.
The class has the benefit of being led by the above-mentioned teacher, who has a unique blend of intellectual skills, flexible mindset and a keen sense of when to show gentleness or firmness. He has four paraprofessionals working with him: One who has been in the class for over twenty years. One, who recently came on board, has strong native intelligence, as to devising activities that challenge the students at a very basic level, along with an entertaining mode of delivery, after years in the sales profession. The other two are gentle, personable and confident.
All in all, the atmosphere has evolved into one of excellence, appealing to the students’ own sense of self-worth, which is not always a given, in a special needs class. This, in turn, leads to the students wanting to do things on their own and refusing any situation that would contribute to a sense of helplessness. I can think of two kids who sorely needed that change of situation. The teacher will not cater to them, when they do lapse into a mindset of helplessness, though he does not push them beyond their emotional state. The bar remains high, and when they have returned to recovery mode, he gets them to finish their tasks.
It was a fine thing to see a classroom of this magnitude, having been in others where the student/teacher ratio is too high, the structural and expectation levels low and/or at least one staff member is disgruntled, either with the children or with co-workers.
October 5, 2022- The crew, the past two days, has been as welcoming and pleasant as at any other school where I have worked, these past eleven years-with on exception. The palpable anger on the face of one of the team members has not faded.
There was some idle speculation that perhaps I was “shadowing” the team lead, who is leaving the school in a few days. I assured those who broached that idea that I was not going to take on that role. My available work days remain four, per week, and besides, I will be out of state for 1 1/2 weeks, immediately following Fall Break. So, reticent team member need not look at me as the potential “new boss”, if that’s the issue.
There was a time when I would become overly solicitous towards the indifferent or hostile member of a group. Invariably, the unwanted attention would end with the opposite of what I had intended. I have learned to leave such people alone, other than approaching them when the dictates of the job required, and then only in a strictly professional basis. In this instance, I have no idea if or when I will be called to go back to that particular class, or even to that school. It is a nice school and the children are well-mannered, so I would gladly return, if called.
In such a case, the prudent thing would be to maintain a professional stance, and wade through the swamp of misgivings. Once someone knows my heart, things generally become more pleasant between us. If not, then I am no longer the sort who frets and bends over backwards to ingratiate.
October 4, 2022- I once happened by a small corral, occupied by two full-grown horses. Someone who was nearby said that while the animals were well-fed, they were never let out of the corral. He wondered how they were still able to move around. We both wondered how the animals were experiencing life.
I thought about that today, when someone replied to my comment on a post by a nationally-known columnist. She took a different view from mine, but thanked me for correcting an earlier comment she had made, which left her looking ignorant. I feel that is the least one can do for another; not because I am above her in intellectual stature, but because no one should sacrifice dignity for lack of information. It does not matter so much how someone views life, as how they express that viewpoint.
I thought of her objections to the practices of a certain religion. I then thought of my own struggles with certain aspects of spirituality. The struggles that each of us have, because of free will, invariably pit our search for quality of life in this physical plane against our sense of what lies afterward. So many, including the person mentioned above, seem to equate this life with the afterlife. I certainly used to.
Time has brought lessons that have made me see way beyond the comeliness of a woman, the seemingly charmed lives of some friends and neighbours, the gregariousness of a person who appears to be wildly popular. Any one of those people could tell stories of loss and despair, some of which would exceed any troubles I myself have known. While I was sitting and waiting for my meal, this evening, a very pretty young lady told of recently going through exactly the same situation I experienced in September, 2021: Being 50% at fault for a car wreck. We make some choices that benefit us, and others that put us through the wringer. This life spares no one.
So, what is the point of free will? I would say, in my limited understanding, that it is a series of opportunities for each of us to hone our spiritual attributes-Love, patience, courtesy, honesty, forbearance, generosity, trustworthiness, and many others. I would say it is a series of opportunities to prepare for a far more intense life of the spirit, once the body is left behind.
I can choose for no one else, save the incapacitated and the very young. No one else can choose for me.
October 2, 2022- The ten-year-old girl was apologetic, as she corrected me about a certain procedure, at an event where I was volunteering, this afternoon. I assured her that the advice was welcome, and well-taken. The correction made all the difference, and obviated any embarrassment that would have ensued, had I not been reminded of the proper procedure.
My relationships with people, regardless of age, gender, or any other physical or social consideration, have matured, evolved-to the point where the only thing that matters, at all, is character. This is especially true since 2015, which was about the time that I left recovery mode, four years after Penny’s passing. Even vicious people whom I encountered were able to provide insights that could be incorporated into my personal growth. They were, on balance, not people of good character, so they are no longer in my life. The lessons, though, remain.
As we enter the fourth quarter of this year that has brought sea changes to many aspects of our lives, I find myself closing the door on things I find bogus: The almost whimsical political e-mails, which change with the wind, and whose intent is solely to wring money out of the fearful; the “controversy” over an African-American woman playing James Madison’s crystal flute-with dignity and respect, I might add; in fact, ANY claim that people should mind their place. I treat children with the respect that is their birthright. I treat elders with the respect that their long lives have earned, as well as being their birthright. I treat everyone in between, with the same respect. It is nice that I am able to bring genuine smiles to people’s faces, as a result of that respect.
My goals for the next three months are fairly straightforward. I will work a bit, this week, and over parts of November and December. I will help the Red Cross and local service groups, when I can. Visits with friends in Nevada and Idaho will take up a couple of weeks, later this month, followed by two days celebrating the Birthdays of al-Bab and Baha’u’llah, the dates of which are a day apart. November will see a visit to Monument Valley and with some friends in southeast Utah. Thanksgiving, as has been the case for the past two years, will be spent with my little family, in Grapevine. It is there that I will turn 72. December will see a three-day visit to southern California, just before Christmas and to Taos and Santa Fe, just after. Christmas itself will be here at Home Base.
Everything that is worth while is based on love. So on we go.
September 30, 2022, Flagstaff- Today would have been Penny’s 68th birthday. She would have joined me in cringing, if anyone said sixty-eight YEAR anniversary. We were of one mind, about language purity, and if anything, she was more adamant about precision, when it came to names of people and things.
She saw beauty in most things, although acts of racism and sexism were called out for what they were. She struggled, mightily, to throw off her own vestiges of prejudice, and would have made overcoming “white fragility” a major focus of her life, had she been here when it rose as a social construct.
The most important creatures in her life were animals, especially dogs. People could be the source of disappointment and letdown, but dogs and horses were blameless. Cats were outside animals, and they could come and go at will, but dogs were a source of comfort. Horses were the epitome of nobility, and visits to her horse-owning parents most often meant a ride or two, until she could ride no more.
She would be happy at what women and girls have achieved, in terms of resisting paternalism. Although she, like me, abhorred the idea of abortion, she would have remained adamant that it was the woman’s ultimate choice-not to be relegated to others, especially men. She was of a mind to challenge and argue with doctors, when she saw fit. That, besides the undying respect I had for her judgement and dignity, was why she kept primacy over decisions to be made regarding her health. She was a steadfast advocate for holistic health practices and organic foods. I have tried to keep the faith, in that respect.
She had a strong love for children, and fought with herself-a lot, to put their well-being above her urge towards ego-centrism, the legacy of having been raised as a “princess”. This didn’t do her health any favours, but she was a good mother to Aram, and a fine wife to me. She was also a strong and dedicated teacher, even at the end-when declining health and unsympathetic administrators made her professional life a nightmare. The children always came first.
I like to think she would approve of my autumnal years, and how they are playing out. I get inklings, every now and then, like the image of a spirit that appears on the wall calendar, as if to say, “You are not alone”.
September 27, 2022- I was unsure about how today would go, after yesterday’s fussing and fuming-from the aforementioned child, and from a couple of adults, on the periphery of the class. I went in, anyway, because my word is my bond.
Neither of the complaining adults were in the room today-and I was informed by the front office that one of the gripes was found to be without merit-and was dismissed. The other, from someone who was out sick today, never went beyond the immediate classroom staff.
The child, conversely, took an opposite tack today and showed nothing but gratitude for my concern. Although the day did not go all that well, behaviour-wise, none of the tantrums were directed towards staff. Much of my day was actually spent with a nonverbal and non-ambulatory child, who showed the best work ethic I’ve seen in a long time-proceeding through online tasks for nearly ninety minutes-stopping only for lunch.
At the end of the day, four of us escorted the students down to the bus and pick-up area. There was exhaustion in the faces of my co-workers, but also relief that-with one step forward and two steps back, progress was nonetheless being witnessed.
September 26, 2022- The child sputtered and fumed at anyone who was found to be even mildly annoying. I was one of those, especially after foiling child’s early morning dash to the playground. Solo actions aren’t generally found to be in a minor child’s best interests, and the more impulsive the act, the more it is seen as a potential source of problems.
I call today’s and tomorrow’s worksite “The Steamer”, because the environment is intense and a few of my co-workers feel it is like being in a pressure cooker. A number of Special Needs children placed together in a fairly small room is never guaranteed to be smooth sailing. They do, however, respond to gently-applied and consistent classroom management. The two paraprofessionals run the show, as is common in Special Needs classrooms. I followed their modi operandi, as I have learned to do, so as to remain afloat, in this extended period of professional afterglow. Besides, they work like tomorrow is not guaranteed, and their dedication to the welfare and safety of the children is magnificent.
The team is working out their game plan, even contemplating, but not yet executing, a division of the three-room workspace into two evenly-split classrooms. The issue there is that there are not, as yet, enough paraprofessionals to man both classrooms, on a regular basis. I am not going to work every single day, anymore, so there will be the necessity of attracting and keeping 2-4 more people, to work alongside the two classroom teachers and the aforementioned parapros. There is a half-time paraprofessional working in the room, as well, but he is not going to single-handedly meet everyone’s needs.
At the end of the day, after the children had been placed on buses, or re-united with their parents, I bid the team goodnight, said “See you tomorrow”, and was asked, by one of the teachers, “Are you sure?” Yes, I’m sure. I feel a bond with the children and am glad to be part of the team, however intermittently.
September 24, 2022- The little girl, no more than two, came up to me while I was sitting in my “director’s chair”, at the large music festival. She tried to climb on my lap, which, as I knew neither her nor her mother, I gently declined. Her mother came over and led her back to the spot where she was preparing the child’s stroller. With mother so occupied, the girl came right back, and tried again. This time, both mother and I explained that this was not something she should be doing. There was no yelling or finger-wagging, just gentle dissuasion. Conversely, while the mother said I should have ignored her daughter, that, too, is something one doesn’t do to a person who is experiencing so much, for the first time in her life. I feel that I have a duty before the Creator to lovingly assist other people, especially children, to the best of my ability.
Earlier today, a small group of us honoured a revered community leader and beekeeper, on the first anniversary of his passing. There was a man who embodied loving assistance to all he met. Even the bank manager, who oversaw his mortgage, was given instructions on what to do with his house-upon the occasion of said passage. Hopefully, those instructions were followed and the home sold to the certain type of family who would honour its feng shui. The bees themselves were carefully dispersed to various other apiaries, prior to GK’s passing.
I went from the memorial service to VortiFest, in Sedona, particularly to meet up with a friend I had not seen in 2 1/2 years and to possibly see other friends from the Synergy/Apotheca complex. The centerpiece, for me, of the music festival, was an appearance by Camille Sledge, the scion of Sister Sledge, and her band, Phoenix Afrobeat Orchestra. Camille, as it turned out, was off, touring with her mother and aunts, so PAO’s superbly talented instrumentalists managed a delightful and rousing 45 minutes of non-vocal ear candy, and got many of us, up and jumping around, much as they and Camille did, when I first heard them, four years ago.
That set was what brought about a brief encounter with a Sedona friend, that puzzles me, even as I write this. She greeted me, danced around for a bit, then spent the rest of the set alternately acting like she was scared to death of me and that I no longer existed. I will refrain from trying to explain that, other than I am aware of certain threats to her safety, from someone other than myself. He could have been around and have made his presence known to her. For a good part of the rest of the Festival, she was escorted by other men, including one of the security detail members, so who knows? For my part, I would not harm a hair of anyone’s head, much less a dearly loved friend of three years.
My newly re-connected friend served as a reality check on the whole matter, cautioning against personalizing the incident, in any way, shape or form. I followed her advice, knowing that forming a narrative, based on incomplete information, is worse than a fool’s errand. So, I headed homeward, ahead of the mass exodus that was sure to happen after the last set of the festival. Even having parked in a smaller lot, across the highway, I would have been stuck in the scrum of traffic, had I stayed to hear the last, excellent band.
Besides Afrobeat, there were two other fabulous bands that I did encounter: One was the festival founder’s group, simply named “Decker”. The other was a group called “G-Love”, which offered several peace-themed tunes, that were nonetheless rousing, and which had what seemed to be 2/3 of the audience standing and bouncing, in front of the stage. I chose to sit for most of that set, getting up mainly to take video of three friends who were wearing lighted costumes and were engaged in performance art. There was a third band, which performed well, but their vibe was a bit on the angry side. Turns out, they had a shortened set, due to some misunderstanding with the festival organizers. The final band, Arrested Development, a hip-hop group, also performed well, though I heard their offerings only as I walked back towards my vehicle.
So, that was Vorti-Fest, and my Saturday. This is also my 3000th post, on this platform. Goodness and ill abound in this life, and I do not hesitate to bring you both, in the right measure. My feelings right now are well-covered, if obliquely so, by Paul Simon’s “America”.
September 21, 2022- The call came, with about fifteen minutes left in the class. The tone was furious, and decidedly personal. It was clear that the caller felt let down and that in her mind, the rest of the day was about damage control. The students carried on, and did a fairly good job at completing the assigned task.
It was actually all about process, procedure-and will have scant effect on the learning of those particular students. I know little about the caller, so maybe other parts of her life were not going well today. It doesn’t take much to trigger a tirade, these days.
It was, all in all, a nice day. I was working with a group of children who I particularly treasure. The classes accomplished a lot, with the second and third groups following the procedure that was reiterated to me, albeit in angry tones. I choose to look past a person’s rage, because when it’s all over, we will both be standing in the same spot. So long as there is no harm to children, or other innocents, I walk away.
There will, I know, come a time, maybe as early as next Thursday, when I will face that person again. I will not be swayed, one way or the other, by anything she has to say. At this stage of my life, it’s all about the children and teens, and their progress, their well-being.
September 20, 2022- The young man remembered me, from seven years ago, and launched into the playful antics for which I remember his eight-year-old self. He livened up the web-based class, for which I was the in-person monitor, maybe a little too much-but we got through the material offered by the online teacher. He showed up twice afterward, during the day, once to hang out during lunch and correct a prank he and his buddies had played on me and once, hoping to hear that his class was my favourite of the day. It wasn’t, and the shoulders slumped-but he’ll get over it. He did allow as to having been furious, when I was abruptly dismissed from that Third Grade teaching position, in favour of a dour local resident, who needed a job. Many of the students in that class felt the same way, and I’ve encountered three of them, elsewhere, since then.
I created a mild set of problems for myself, this morning, by overlooking the time for the onset of class, arriving a bit late and thus having to navigate the ambiguities and idiosyncrasies of the online Spanish class, on the fly. Things were a bit hectic, for the first two hours, but the learning curve was mastered by the start of Third Hour. The rest of the day went smoothly.
Ambiguities have never been my strong suit, yet I am having to master them more often, these days. Thus I will arrive early for tomorrow’s assignment, so as to read the instructional fine print more carefully. Even then, there are no guarantees of immediate success, as the connotations of words are different sometimes. Sometimes, sparks have to fly, in order for the communication to be made clear. Today, the teachers and admin were patient; not all teams are.
I also sense that there is a bit of tension in the air, as the seasons change. This evening, while at the gym, I found a bottle of energy milk on the floor, and asked a woman who was nearby, working out with her ten-year-old son, if it were hers. She said it was his, so I gave it to him and advised as to a safer place to put it, which he did-and then got self-conscious. The two left the area shortly afterward, so I wondered about the ambiguous situation again being an issue. In any case, I can’t ignore anything that compromises the safety and well-being of a child.
As I headed over to the massage chairs, a man was loudly complaining about what he regarded as an affront to his dignity and threat to his personal safety. He was gently guided outside by a gym employee, who continued to hear him out. I heard the same mother who had been in the whole body exercise area, telling the front desk clerk that if the man had gotten any closer to her son, she’d have called the police. Ambiguities, again, were exacerbated by the assumptions made by two different personalities.
It was, in the end, fitting that my own horoscope told me to not make assumptions about people. So I have learned, time and again.
A Sagittarian Seeker 