Category Archives: Education

Ides

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Posted by on in collaborating, Community, Education, Social, Striving

August 15, 2016, Prescott- Today and tomorrow mark what medieval Europeans would have called the Ides (divides) of August.  Most of us are aware of the concept of dividing months into fortnights (periods of two weeks), from Shakespeare’s “Julius Caesar”. The Ides of March became associated with foreboding, associated with the death of Caesar.

Division, for me, is something we need to work hard at overcoming.  I am in a new work environment.  The three of us who staff the room are working to overcome differences in style, priority, and temperament, both among ourselves and with the 6-7 supervisory staff, who are in and out of the room during the day.  Then, there are differences that arise with, and among, our charges- the students in our self-contained unit. Finally, there are the other staff at the school, who are united in their little groups, but have a ways to go in opening up to those perceived as “others”.

Division, at its most innocent, is a coping strategy for making sense of one’s world.  At its most nefarious, it is a way of maintaining barriers.  This is something we all tend to do, to one extent or another.  My goal is to eliminate as many of “the Ides”, socially, as I can, without falling back into my former patterns of being pushy and insistent.  Those only closed up the circles more quickly.  This time, I will be more prone to careful listening and patience.

 

Rubicon

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Posted by on in Community, Education, Family, Personal goals, Personal Values, Spiritual, Striving

August 14, 2016, Prescott- I remarked to some collaborators-in-faith, this morning, that I have scrapped plans for most travel outside North America, until at least 2021. (South Korea, where my son is to be stationed, next year, being an exception.)  There were crickets in the room, so our discourse went on to things of more common interest.

Later today, I attended a gathering that was sponsored by Team Rubicon, the disaster recovery organization that is mostly made up of military veterans.  The very allusion to making a decisive and irreversible choice defines this group, whose impact is as great, if not greater than that of the Red Cross.  These are the people who remain behind, once the news cycle is over and the long-term work begins.  They choose to walk the celestial path, with practical feet. (‘Abdu’l-Baha admonished us Baha’is to do just that, in several speeches, when he visited North America, in 1912.)

I have plenty to do around here, during the academic year, and with regard to both my Faith and the needs of the larger community.  At 65 years, 8 months, it’s important to consider at least the seeds of legacy.  I’m in fine health, and I do want to continue with a full, contributive life.  Five years of gainful employment remain.  I will insist on actively taking part in the well-being of the Prescott area, both inside and outside my worksite.  Summers will still find me visiting friends and family, in various parts of this continent, starting with a second journey northwestward, next June. Christmas and New Year’s will still be marked by the presence of loved ones and good friends, both here and on the East Coast.  June, 2021 will still be the beginning of an extended journey to many parts of the globe, the only caveats being the needs of my son, any family he might have by then, and our larger family.

I will remain working to educate people on the Oneness of Mankind, on the need for an inquiring mind, and on the healing properties of Certified, Therapeutic Grade Essential Oils, and the imperative of wellness.  My Rubicon was crossed, years ago, when Penny pointed me towards the mountain with a shimmering star above it.

 

Sensitivity

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Posted by on in children, Education, Inspiration, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Striving

August 9, 2016, Prescott-  This is a fine “home stretch”, thus far.  I have had dinner with a Young Republican, with a friend of three years and, on a couple of occasions, with several Baha’i friends, at various gatherings.  I have started work again, helping special needs children in the schools, here in town- first at the high school, before being transferred to Grades 5 & 6, for the needs of the District.  It’s gratifying to know that my skill set is valued  at the higher levels.  It hasn’t always been that way.  I am getting settled financially, as well, and will be fine, especially as Autumn gets into full swing.  Physically, my exercise routine is on track, and diet is healthy. The Fall hiking season is about a month away, and lightning will not be a deterrent to being on  mountains. Most importantly, I have ditched the occasional tendency to lapse into conjecture and innuendo, when dealing with criticism or opposition.  “Say what happened, and no more” has become my mantra.

I am working with troubled children, once again.  Their struggles are very much the same as mine, when I was those grades.  Like me, they struggle, despite having loving parents.  Like me, they need more listening and less “by the book” judgment.  So, this I provide, to the best of my ability.  I find myself vindicated by their amazing curiosity, awakening intellect and sensitivity to those around them, who are suffering.

It will be a full, energizing and revelatory year.

 

Guiding Spirits

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Posted by on in Education, Family, Social, Spiritual

June 4-5, 2016, Burntwater, AZ-  There are, as I have indicated various times, several places in the world where I feel like family, and not just a passing acquaintance who is forgotten as soon as I leave.  Reno/Carson City is one such place, the Prescott area, where I live most of the time,  Metro San Diego (where my son lives) – and this small corner of the country’s largest Indian Nation, are among the others.  Burntwater used to have a trading post.  Now, it has the Native American Baha’i Institute of Learning.  That may sound redundant, but educating people of all ages has been the core purpose of this facility, since it was founded, in 1981.  I always feel like the Guiding Spirits are with me here.  When I arrived here, on Friday night, it was late, so I rolled out the sleeping bag and slept under the stars, as we all had, that first weekend on the property- when there were no buildings.

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Native American Baha’i Institute’s 35th Anniversary

Thus, about thirty of us gathered here, these past two days-  to recount the past thirty-five years and to plan, with a group of service-oriented youth, for its immediate and short-term future.  NABIL has come far, since 10-15 of us gathered here, in June, 1981, and sat with a group of Dine’ (Navajo) elders, asking them what they wanted to see here.  I remember the first thing on their list was reliable water.  So, a dowser came to visit, a well was dug, and the long drive to a pump, of spotty reliability, was over, within three months.  That well has been replaced, by an even more reliable water source, in the past ten years.  Local residents can get a portion of water that they all agreed upon, in council, with everyone’s opinion heard and considered, by the community. This is how Dine’, and most Native Americans across the country, are used to doing things.  A weekly community dinner is offered on Thursday evenings, and this is also a chance for residents to freely air their concerns.

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The Library is the central meeting place, for consultation and mindfulness.

Financial literacy classes, the trades and some college preparatory classes are among the services that the current staff are hoping to see offered here, in the next several years.  The Institute has come a long way.  I stayed in a comfortable lodge, for the second night I was there.

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As with any place that people gather, the dining hall is also a key place for consultation and camaraderie.

I was asked, upon getting ready to leave on Sunday morning, to remember that I must not be a stranger here.  The permanent staff have been like family to me, for a long time, so I will bear that in mind.  Driving across Hopi, also a place that is home, I found the place quiet, though I later learned that there was a social dance, which I apparently missed.  No worries, as there were two fires, along the route  back to Prescott, and I had to focus on getting back in one piece.  It looked as if the fires were under control, though.

I was back, and had my house cooled off, by 6 PM.  Now, let’s see what a week in one place will look like.

 

Growing

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Posted by on in Education, Poetry

April 25, 2016, Chino Valley –

Heading out, for unexpected work,

I determine I’ll not shirk.

The types of math that are on the agenda,

Used to be headaches, never ending.

Time and tide have made them comprehensible,

So my explanations to the people are more dependable.

Self-confidence is thus transferable,

and knowledge, in turn, becomes more durable.

(My long-term post at Prescott High School was closed today,

therefore I went up to Chino Valley, to help there, for the day.)

 

Those Who Wait

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Posted by on in Education, Personal goals, Service Activities, Striving

April 4, 2016, Prescott-  I got my photo loading device on the laptop fixed, this evening, so a hiking post, or two, is in the offing for tomorrow and Wednesday.  Today, though, is a time for mentioning something unexpected.

I went to work at our intermediate school, this morning, only to be told my services were not needed there, due to the convoluted situation in which they found themselves.  On a whim, I asked the secretary to call HR and see whether they had any other needs for the day.  HR asked me to go to Prescott High School, and help in the Resource Center.

It turned out that the lead teacher there thought I was her new assistant, for the rest of the academic year.  I said I would be available, about 90 % of the remaining time, given a few  “word is my bond” obligations elsewhere.  Both the teacher and the office manager seem fine with that, so I did my job today and will work three more days this week, and 4-5 days a week there, the rest of this month and all but five of the school days in May.

Those who wait, with open eyes and ears, can be rewarded.

Vigils

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Posted by on in children, Education, Personal Values, Spiritual, Striving

February 13, 2016, Glendale- The slight, bespectacled girl embraced her tall, athletic friend, and caressed her blonde forelock.  “Are you scared?  You are safe now.”, the shorter girl spoke, in comfort and assurance.

There were about 500 of us here, tonight, at Independence High School, in  the southern corner of this vibrant, artsy city, immediately to the west of Phoenix.  Yesterday, two girls, who were openly in a relationship, died in what appears to have been a murder-suicide.  We were here to pray and place lit candles at the makeshift memorial that lines the southern exterior wall of the gymnasium.  Those who felt like talking, did.  Those who needed a hug from someone they knew and trusted, got all the comfort they could handle.

I am a stranger here, tonight.  It was 2011, when I last worked in a classroom at Independence High, as well as at the other campuses of Glendale Union High School District.  I had good experiences here, and got on well with the students.  This evening, though, drew me like moth to flame.  I explained my ties to one of the current school counselors, who was introducing herself to anyone who seemed out of place, and making sure we had a connection to the school.  It was enough for me to just stand and silently pray, offer positive thoughts and accept a candle from one of the other teachers.  It was graciously lit by a well-dressed student, and I joined a line of people in placing the candles at the memorial site.  I stayed for about 20 minutes further.

Candlelight vigils have become all too common- as have the acts of despair, of giving up, which lead to the cause of the vigils.  One of my online friends responded to my initial post about the girls’ deaths, with one word:  “Bleh”.  My own response, every, single time is a sinking heart.

This is Valentine’s Eve.  People at other high schools are having dances and parties.  People across this maddening, beautiful Valley, with its frenetic traffic and culture of anonymity are crowding into hotels and motels, paying premium prices for the sake of a holiday. At Independence, suffering proto-adults, and their elders, are doing what far too many of their peers have had to do, since 1997:  Mourn those among them who have fallen victim- sometimes by their own hand, sometimes by the Hand of Anonymous Rage.

It would be nice to be able to simply say:  STOP!- and have it be so.  For now, though, all I can do is be here for people I’ve never met, people who might recognize me from five years ago, people who are part of a generation I have come to love with the highest level of intensity.  I want “my kids” to thrive, to dream, to live to the fullest.

I dream- of the day when vigils may come to an end.

Portrait of the Poet

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Posted by on in Education, Historical, Poetry, Spiritual, Striving

February 1, 2016, Prescott-

The Winter Scavenger Hunt prompt says “artist”, not “poet”, but a poet IS an artist.

Today begins the month “officially” set aside as Black History Month.  African-Americans certainly are not limited to any given point along a year, in terms of their impact on our nation’s history.  Yet, why quibble?  We do well to reach as far back as possible, in comprehending the spirit and drive that gives each individual, regardless of ethnicity or melanin level, the capacity for great achievement.

The first published African-American poet, Phillis Wheatley, was brought to Boston at the age of 8, from either Gambia or Senegal.  She was given the name Phillis by her captor, Peter Gwinn, and sold as a slave to a tailor named John Wheatley.  The Wheatley family taught Phillis to read and write, encouraging her to study the Classics.

Phillis began to write her own poetry at the age of 14.  She drew the favourable attention of both British and American leaders of both politics and thought, having audiences with the Lord Mayor of London and George Washington.  Thomas Paine published her work in the Pennsylvania Gazette, and she drew favourable commentary from Voltaire.

Things went sour for Phillis, after her master died.  Though she was freed, under the terms of his will, and married a Free African-American grocer, John Peters, the prevailing view of society was not favourable towards African-Americans.  The Peters’ struggled financially, John was imprisoned, in 1784 and Phillis, along with their infant son, died shortly thereafter, she being only 31.

Here is a sample of her poetry, which drew on both Christian and animist influences, as well as ancient Greek and European Enlightenment thought.

“On Virtue”

O Thou bright jewel in my aim I strive
To comprehend thee. Thine own words declare
Wisdom is higher than a fool can reach.
I cease to wonder, and no more attempt
Thine height t’ explore, or fathom thy profound.
But, O my soul, sink not into despair,
Virtue is near thee, and with gentle hand
Would now embrace thee, hovers o’er thine head.
Fain would the heav’n-born soul with her converse,
Then seek, then court her for her promis’d bliss.

Auspicious queen, thine heav’nly pinions spread,
And lead celestial Chastity along;
Lo! now her sacred retinue descends,
Array’d in glory from the orbs above.
Attend me, Virtue, thro’ my youthful years!
O leave me not to the false joys of time!
But guide my steps to endless life and bliss.
Greatness, or Goodness, say what I shall call thee,
To give me an higher appellation still,
Teach me a better strain, a nobler lay,
O thou, enthron’d with Cherubs in the realms of day.[9]

Phillis had conflicting feelings about slavery, recognizing, on one level that it was the cruelest of institutions, while simultaneously expressing the view that captivity had served her well, by bringing her to Christianity.

In any event, I see Phillis Wheatley as the first great African-American woman, in public life.

A Measure of Kindness

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Posted by on in Education, Poetry

January 21, 2016, Prescott- I am spending today and tomorrow with fourth graders at a small elementary school, on Prescott’s north side.   It’s a welcoming place, that has offered me continuity, over the years.  I will miss that, in the latter part of next week, but one must choose, and move forward with those choices.

Here’s a bit of speculation, on a different note:

Is it ethical to practice vivisection on ants?

Looking at the segments of the writhing forms,

whilst knowing full well none of them may register a plaint.

The susurration of a shocked animal-rights advocate, in Scandinavia, may be the norm.

Yet, would it be any less barbaric, for a horseshoe to land on the insects, as they herd their aphids, among their plants?

(The above is in response to another prompt, in the Winter Scavenger Hunt).