The Road to 65, Mile 335: Sound and Fury

7

October 29, 2015, Chino Valley- The child’s piercing shriek rattled few nerves this afternoon, coming as it did in counterpoint to the pounding rain and hail that visited our school’s roofs.  Her plaint was due to the toppling of some cans of food that she had carefully stacked, in the back of our room, when her classmates went back there to place their Scholastic News copies in their mailboxes.  (We are collecting donations for the needy.)

The girl’s disability leads to these sorts of incidents, on occasion.  On a more regular basis, the innocence and lack of life experience of my eight-and-nine-year-olds bring into play the sorts of events that remind me why I stick with this enterprise called education.  There are many moments of delight and small victory.  There are many moments of hair-pulling (figuratively speaking) and exasperation.    It’s a lot like parenting, or marriage, in that regard.

I had only a few tasks which I needed the kids to finish.  At one point I had to raise my voice, for only the second time in three weeks, when their personal concerns of the moment got in the way of schooling.  I don’t enjoy that part of the deal, and so I keep the roar relatively dull, and infrequent. Nature’s roar, though, was a lot more discomfiting to the children, being less predictable and far less sensitive to little hearts and minds.

In the end, the rain subsided enough for me to get the kids to their parents (We have no school bus driver, and therefore, all students are met by at least one adult family member.) The disabled child was wrapped in her mother’s arms, and another girl, who had gone on a small group field trip, proudly showed me the 20-pound pumpkin she had won.

Tomorrow, I will visit the Arizona Department of Education, in Phoenix, and if my son’s plans coincide, I may stay down there, as a Halloween party is on tap there, on Saturday night.  The sound and fury of this afternoon will have moved on, to New Mexico and Colorado, then to the Mississippi Valley, in time for some frightful scenes on All Hallows Eve.

The Road to 65, Mile 334: Independence

2

October 28, 2015, Chino Valley- We have reached the point where whatever might have passed for a “honeymoon”, between my present school and me, has dissipated.  This is not a bad thing.  It means only that my stated mission, to safeguard the well-being of twenty-one children, while challenging them, academically and socially, is more on my shoulders than it is prescribed by those above me.

Administration has its place, and it is a vital place, indeed.  Teamwork is also vital.  Yet, at the end of the day, it is what a teacher can accomplish, when everyone else around him or her is either indisposed or overwhelmed, that makes the difference in the life of a learner.  It is easy for a child to love and admire a teacher who is ever congenial and accommodating.  The rub comes when the docent holds the bar higher.

I have to raise my bar a bit higher, day by day.  I see things coming, that must be faced, and solved, by the now mostly adult Millennials, and by the emerging Generation Z, who include all the children I have taught for the last five years, and all whom I will teach, for the next five.  They have a lot of innate wisdom, but they also face many of the same conflicts and growth challenges that we all faced in childhood and adolescence.  In addition, all the failures of those of us before them will lie at their feet- just as those of our forebears  cast shadows on our tenure as the generation of leadership.

I seek to foster independence, but not swagger, bravado and insolence, about which more tomorrow.

The Road to 65, Mile 331: Nightmare

4

October 25, 2015, Prescott- Reflections on a middle-night’s dream:

There came the Little Rascals,

into a coffee shop where I sat.

An adult was with them,

speaking untoward rap.

Egging on the boys and girls,

Her words were enough to make me hurl.

I stood up and re-assured the kids,

that young, fresh days are not meant

for moral skids.

Be free of obligation,

to social degeneration.

I awoke,

having stood my ground,

feeling ready for a day

of love profound.