The Road to 65, Mile 322: Course Corrections

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October 15, 2015, Chino Valley- We sat together, at the end of the day, and of the week. The kids and I agreed that there was too much varied content thrown onto one page of the textbook publisher’s worksheet on perimeters. We humans don’t, generally, speaking, absorb more than one mental skill at a time. I will make the necessary adjustment in the lessons, next week.

I knew it would not be long, before I felt like taking the pre-fabricated material, and, like the late Richard Mulligan, in “Teachers”, open the classroom window and toss the useless book out. I won’t go that far. The taxpayers’ sensibilities matter greatly, after all. One of the tenets of good teaching, however, is “monitor and adjust.” I am big on mastery, and will do whatever it takes to bring this about, for as many of the people with whom I work, as possible.

We, as a profession, are under a lot of pressure to provide ready answers to the question of “Why are our students falling behind, in the Great Global Rat Race?” I have a few, tentative answers to that, which will not make the Testing Industry, or its political sponsors, very happy. One, which I still remember, from having worked with Korean teachers of English, several years ago, is that many nations’ educational programs are focused on teaching one skill at a time. That used to be the case here, when I was in school.

Now, however, I see a tendency to throw many concepts and skills together, so as to “hurry up and catch up”, with a perceived Global Mass of superlearners. Grandma said “Haste makes waste”, and that is painfully obvious, looking in the faces of my still-trusting little ones. We have to go back and look hard at the most basic level of the skill expected of them- and, yes, they will get it, and extrapolate the rest, one piece at a time- in time for the Great April Acid Test, which the state, in its wisdom, has cast upon us.

The journey of a thousand miles still needs that single step.

The Road to 65, Mile 321: The Garden

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October 14, 2015, Chino Valley-

The little girl registered a mild objection to my changing the morning schedule, from “Science”, which she loves, to “Writing”, in which she has little self-confidence. I had something up my sleeve, which required the presence of the three students who were off being tested.

Outside our south window, there is a fallow garden plot. The school’s director has hinted at “how nice” it will be for the plot to be reseeded, and tended. The day has fallen into my lap. After, lunch, with all the children back in the room, I told them of my lesson plan. We would go out to the garden, and whilst there, brainstorm as to what could be planted. Each child was to make a wish list, with no immediate restrictions, other than that it must be something that will either grow or will help things grow.

After twenty-five minutes, in the garden, some of the eight-year-olds got restless, so we went back inside the classroom. The rest of our class time was spent with each student stating what was on her/his wish list and me recording and tallying the items on the white board. This is a huge deal for several of the kids, not the least of whom is the girl who bemoaned the lack of a science lesson, this morning.

There is much ahead. The students will now need to look up their plants, see what type of soil, planting specifics, watering level and frequency, climate and nourishment they will need, how to guard against pests, which animals best pollinate the plants, and how much work it will take to raise the intended crop.

This will be a major class project, and will be integrative learning, involving reading, math, science, social studies, writing and social collaboration. Add to this, all the rest that is on tap for the year, and we should see measurable growth in this class.

The Road to 65, Mile 320: Colliding Forces

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October 13, 2015, Chino Valley-

Thoughts on my new job, thus far:

Needs overlooked,

lead to outrage.

They who overlooked,

hold fast to the stage.

Pleading eyes of the young,

hope my time will bring meaning.

Flinty eyes of the old,

hope my time will be fleeting.

A child speaks truth to power.

Does my contemporary feign power,

yet inside, cower?

The waning forces subside,

Yet with a rising tide,

they collide.

The Road to 65, Mile 315: Crowded Out, In An Empty Room

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October 8, 2015, Prescott- I opted to attend a monthly meeting of the American Legion, this evening, rather than go to another gathering. As it happened, that was not the best use of my time. Although I will remain a member of the Legion, and the local post, so as to maintain ties with trusted friends, circumstances have changed. I am not a member of the inner circle, and so when trying to humbly offer a correction at tonight’s meeting, I was upbraided. Though my concern was addressed a short time later, it was made clear that “he”, meaning me, was regarded as a nuisance by the leadership.

Thus, tonight’s was my last meeting. Disorganization is something through which any of us ought to be able to work, but when the disorganized are arrogant and full of themselves, to protest is folly. I find it is far more advantageous for me to use my time towards the building of a solid community foundation. The alternatives on Thursday night are Baha’i activities and encouraging one or both of the secular friends to whom I alluded in the last post.

There were few people at tonight’s meeting.  From here on, there will be one less.

The Road to 65, Mile 314: Synergy

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October 7, 2015, Prescott- 

Here’s a bit of verse, to bring life to a slow day. This is inspired by two friends, each leery of being hurt, yet again.

Conversation lags,

When tethered to the phone.

I’d be far more animated,

Seeing your face,

Even across a room.

No one has to face the dark alone,

despite the myth to which we cling, in an air of gloom.

I am a friend who would take a bullet,

Not a passer-by, who regards your plight as my gauntlet.

What seems insurmountable,

with synergy, becomes infinitesimal.

The Road to 65, Mile 312: Diligence

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October 5, 2015, Prescott- Instead of going to a different part of the state for a few days, I am staying in our county and tending to matters both expected and unexpected. One of the latter is a legal issue, not involving me too directly, at this point. By doing some editing of this blog site and a few other adjustments, I will keep from being dragged too deeply into it.

I have also made flight arrangements for my visit back East, in December. This, I was able to do rather economically. That was not always the case, but I have learned much, in the past six years.

Then, there are the preparations for my two-month- and- maybe- longer, stint at the small school where I worked several days, the past two weeks. I will need to spend Friday there, if I can get access, during this vacation week. As it is, I have a plan for the first few days back, so that’s something.

Life requires diligence, whether at work or at leisure. There is always some aspect that is beyond fun and games. Having said this, tomorrow will be a day for hiking in Sedona.

The Road to 65, Mile 289: Breathe In Bliss

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September 12, 2015, Prescott- Several things happened today. One of my brothers turned 60. I made my usual morning visit to the Prescott Farmer’s Market, and had my usual cup of coffee with a sweet treat. After buying a few vegetables, I encountered my good friends, Happy and Johnny. Since they had a booth at the Market, with foraged goodies from a nearby forest, I spent close to an hour, talking with them, nibbling on things like manzanita berries, sweet acorns and prickly pear fruit. I even peeled and sliced a prickly pear fruit- if you ever get the chance, first double check the rind for small spines. I caught a tiny nub of spine in my finger, but got it out, without any hassle.

This afternoon, lunch was a grilled hot dog, courtesy of a Recovery Group, so I gave them a small donation. Soup from Shannon’s Deli also filled the bill. I went to a memorial service, in mid-afternoon, for the parent of a friend. So many elders have left this year- and many babies are coming, to take their places in this world. I was pleased to see at least seven infants and toddlers, in various places. They are all so busy. I wonder, at what do we start to lose the focus we had as infants, mastering mobility and as toddlers, absorbing so much data about the world all around us.

Happy says, “Breathe in bliss”. I notice that, no matter the constraints put on me, I can do that. Breathing mindfully clears a lot of tension and confusion. It can have an effect on those in one’s immediate surroundings, as well. I am as at peace, right now, as I was when at Tuileries, in Paris, or walking a trail in El Dorado Springs, Colorado.

Sadly, it doesn’t affect everyone. I lost a friend, this evening; but as I heard her voice fading, over the phone, and said my goodbye, a strange calm came over me, and I sat, in perfect stillness, for several minutes. A message came to me: “You are a threat to no one, and if they perceive you as such, perhaps it is a reflection of their own view of the Universe.”

Breathe in bliss. Doors are opening.

The Road to 65,Mile 249: Repression and Resilience

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August 4, 2015, Prescott- One of the features of life on Earth that most sticks in my craw is the mistreatment of children. This morning, I spent about ninety minutes, listening to one of the people I most admire in this world: Philip N. Lane, Jr., an hereditary chief of the White Swan band of the Dakota Nation. Chief Phil has been working with indigenous people, in various parts of the world, for over thirty-five years. His focus has been the creation of a culture of dignity and positive self-regard, aspects of life that were long repressed among Native Peoples, by the dominant culture, in the name of “assimilation”.

Indigenous North Americans, Andeans, Amazonians, Siberians, Saami, Hawaiians, Maori,Native Australians, Ainu, Hill Tribesmen of northeast India, Dravidians, Native Saharans, and the nomadic peoples of the Kalahari and Namib deserts have long been told their cultures and ways of life do not jibe with “reality”, as identified by the powers that be, in their lands of residence.

One of the most effective ways that conquerors have found, in creating a culture of self-loathing, and hence submission, is to remove the children of the repressed ones from their home communities, place them in compulsory residential schools, and systematically quash all traces of the native culture within the psyches and personas of the child-residents. This was done in the United States, Canada and the Soviet Union, throughout much of the Twentieth Century, with an actual view towards “turning savages into human beings.”

I grew up seeing, and sometimes receiving, corporal punishment in a regular public school in Massachusetts, in the late 1950’s and early 1960’s. I have been grabbed and shaken by an angry teacher, seen a friend in another class thrown violently against a wall and witnessed other unnecessary acts, harmful acts, by teachers, administrators, and, later, by a Catholic priest, who was ultimately found guilty, defrocked and disgraced.

As a new teacher, I found myself initially subscribing to forceful techniques, though thankfully not to the extent that a child suffered lasting damage. I owned up to it,made amends, and was able to move on to more humane and effective ways of correcting misbehaviour. It was a long road, but I was then able to focus on helping the abused children to recognize that they were not at fault, that the beatings I witnessed at a private boarding school, in the late 1970’s were the true aberration, and that no one should have to suffer in silence, or alone.

Getting back to the Native American boarding schools, and many of the Federal and state day schools: The schools which “served” Indian, Native Alaskan, and Native Hawaiian children, like the Black and Hispanic schools, under Jim Crow laws, were hotbeds of cultural repression, language extinction and harrowing punishment, which included acts of sexual violence against children and teenagers. The most casual and innocent use of a Native tongue was punished, severely, by school staff ( I will not use the term, “teacher”, here. These individuals negated the definition of the word.). These individuals were both secular and clergy, and had no other goal than the advancement of the national economy. Money trumped all else, as it often still does.

Chief Phil Lane, Jr. was a recipient of this kind of miseducation and ,to this day, has had to continuously re-educate, and re-train himself, which he is doing admirably. I have met many people, in the indigenous communities, and in the wider world, who have expressed hatred for who they think I am, based on my light skin, brown hair and blue eyes. The only remedy for this, given what these people have endured, is patience, and staying the course of building a healing environment.

We still have a long way to go, and I am grateful to Phil Lane, and others who have arisen to outline what needs to be done. I will introduce his 16 Principles of creating a nurturing culture, in a series of posts, very soon.

The Road to 65, Mile 242: Friends Are Us

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July 28, 2015, Prescott- Get used to this byline; most of my posts, especially during the week, will be “Prescott”. I tend to get more free-wheeling with these, as my travel blog readers disappear.

More about the topic of friendships: A friend in another state recently said same-gender friendships are very important (partly in response to my comment about having a large number of women friends). The choice is not apples or oranges. It’s a healthy mix of the two. When I socialize with groups of people, there are men, with whom I discuss some aspects of life; women with whom I discuss other aspects of life; and “mixed” groups, where the conversation is general. None of these are confined to “safe” topics.

My best friend, for thirty years, was my late wife. We had no secrets, kept no grudges and worked together on just about everything. My next-best friend was a man, with whom I could also discuss just about anything, over the 31 years we knew one another. He was also very honest, in a loving way and guided me through some very rough patches after Penny’s passing. Mike could say “No, you don’t!”, when acquiescence would have easier, but less authentic.

I have many friends, around the continent, and a few in Europe, Australasia and southeast Asia, with whom I can discuss a variety of topics, get honest feedback and correct things as I need to. I am also here for them, in that way. This list is not a gender-heavy or age-heavy roster.

There is one woman friend, here, with whom I am collaborating on a venture. Our friendship is more “sibling-ish” than anything else, with plenty of free-wheeling discussion and any illusions either of us had of romance were dispelled early-on. Were she to meet a good man, tomorrow, and at long last have a life relationship, I’d be the first to congratulate. There was a time in my life when I had to deal with distraction issues. Over the past year or so, especially since having visited Europe, I see these issues for what they are: Impediments to real friendship.

I guess it’s largely a matter of maturing, and clearing one’s inner eye.