Those Who Wait

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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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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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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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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).

Snow

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December 14, 2015, Prescott- 

Early to rise,

looked upon whitened skies.

A brief text,

said don’t hurry, rest!

A delayed drive to work,

didn’t see many jerks.

Children discombobulated,

by the start of school, belated.

Practice for tomorrow’s song,

interrupted by mindless chatter- all wrong!

In the end, melodic voices,

overcame the miscreant’s disruptive choices.

Back at home, I encountered a bug,

Removed from the wall, it sits in a jar,

Snug.

Acker Night

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December 11, 2015, Prescott- What could be more American than jazz rock belly dance?  That was one of the features of this annual education fund raiser, that graces Courthouse Square, and most of the businesses that surround it, every second Friday of December, from 5-9  P.M.

The fusion number, “Jingle Bells”, was done by the ladies of Flying Nest Dance Studio, and took place in the area once occupied by the Bird Cage Saloon, now occupied by a lovely outdoor theater.  Bird Cage burned down, two years ago, and has since relocated a block or so to the south, on Prescott’s Whiskey Row.

I spent about ninety minutes soaking up the crisp air, crowded downtown and a variety of musical efforts, after enjoying a hot bowl of Murph’s albondigas soup,cheesecake and coffee, at Shannon’s Deli.  Shadowbox String Quartet, four young ladies who are among my favourite local ensembles, performed several tunes, en classique, at the Old Sage Bookshop, in the boutique area of Hotel St. Michaels.  I then crossed the street to Bashford Court, another venerable indoor mall building, to hear several selections from the Christian and folk group, Manzanita Road.  After checking in at Clothes Hound, also on Whiskey Row, I found that Lady T and The Tramps, a  country and classic-rock cover group, which features a friend from Chino Valley, had finished for the night.  So, it was off to Lifeways Book Shop, for more Rain Forest coffee, and the delightful acoustic tunes of The Larsens.  As a bonus, I picked up a book that is sure to delight my little darlings, next week:  “The Man Made of Stars”, by M. H. Clark.

It’s been a tough week, but thanks to Acker Night, a couple of re-assuring horoscopes, more reassurance from friends, and an extended olive branch, the road ahead looks better.  Now, if we could only do something about Wall Street.  Oh, well, ya can’t fix stupid.

Square One Calling

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December 7, 2015, Chino Valley- This morning, I presented the school’s director with the results of my tests, only to be told that it was too late, and that my replacement would be reporting for work on January 4.

The song is never done, until Mickey Spillane’s woman of size lets loose.  So it is, with my formerly possible work situation at Mingus Springs Charter School. The song has been delivered. The upside, for the children, is that their third teacher of the year has a Special Education background. They need that skill set.  It is imperative, however, that she also prove to be a compassionate, loving soul, and, for now, I am taking it on faith that she is.  I will maintain contact with the families, and will know if things go awry.

This job impelled me to become certified as an elementary teacher, something I had resisted for a while, out of the ignorant belief that it would require a lengthy regimen of coursework and another teaching practicum.  This proved not to be the case, and I will have a certificate in hand, by the end of this calendar year.  That will increase my worth in the Prescott and Chino Valley public schools.

Square One has been my refuge, actually, most of my adult life, and from it, I have gone on to some amazing places, career-wise.  I presently have no way of knowing what 2016 holds in store, but am certain that the possibilities are far wider now, than they were two weeks ago.

I will finish out my six days and be off.  The Spring semester, for now, will be first call, first served.

The Road to 65, Mile 361: Paper Turkeys

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November 24, 2015, Chino Valley- Today was the last day of school before Thanksgiving Break.  The concept of a two-day work week is a bit foreign to me, but I will take it, gladly.   It’s the season of my birth, after all. I had the kids do homework, last night, and maintained my regular teaching regimen today, with one adjustment:  Many children treasure the idea of making paper turkeys and Pilgrims. So, we spent the afternoon class hour, before P.E., following tradition. One little girl made an Indian headband, with a paper feather sticking out.  Some made separate turkeys and Pilgrims.  Others designed turkeys wearing an Elizabethan-Era hat.

This sort of fun activity, for elementary school students, harms nothing and no one.  Some will say that “The truth about the Pilgrims must be told!”  Yes, it does need telling, and to people who are of an age at which the black, the white and the gray can all be processed, and sifted out.  Sharing such information, too soon in a person’s life, is exactly what has brought on the excesses of Political Correctness.

The Pilgrims and Puritans were dour, narrow-minded people, as regarded those of other faith traditions, both European and Aboriginal American.  So, too, were the Spanish and Portuguese.  Many of the Founders of the United States were slaveholders, men of their time.  The best of these slaveholders were progressive in other ways, and some educated their chattel-people.  None of that excuses their slaveholding, but therein lies a tale of lives lived in the gray.

I teach older students, when I am with them, to avoid throwing the baby out with the bath water, as it were.  There has been, is, and will be, no public figure, aside from the Messengers of God, who is a paragon of perfection.  Every person worthy of emulation also has aspects of his/her life that are less than savory, even despicable.  So, one must choose the good elements, and sift out the bad- Wheat from chaff, as The Christ told us.

I will long adhere to things like playing Hallowe’en and Christmas songs, encouraging holiday art, and having birthday parties, when a child’s parents request them.  Childhood should not be frayed at the edges.  It’s when we have time to learn who we are, and build a firm foundation for life’s course.

Bring on the paper turkeys!

The Road to 65, Mile 356: Positivity in the News

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November 19, 2015, Chino Valley- Day Four of my friend’s Positivity Week looks at good news from the mass media.  I find two such reports today.

One, in the Chino Valley Review, (http://cvrnews.com/main.asp?SectionID=1&SubSectionID=446&ArticleID=61041), details our school’s annual Science Fair.  Two of my current students won First Place ribbons, though in fairness, most of the preparatory work on this was done by my predecessor and the leg work, by the boys’ parents.  The ideas came from the students themselves, which is the main thing.

The second, reported on Phoenix-area television, concerns a nine-year-old boy and his emotional-support animal, a pot-bellied pig, which he had named Maggie.  The animal was the subject of an anonymous complaint, leading to the City of Chandler moving to force the family to get rid of  Maggie.    The family, their neighbours and animal-rights activists banded together and, citing the Americans with Disabilities Act, persuaded the city to reverse its decision.  The one down-street neighbour who raised the objection has also relented.

These past two weeks have had lots of bad news, but the brightness is also here.  The light is building, even as darkness rises in clouds.

 

The Road to 65, Mile 347: Staying Calm in Chaos

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November 10, 2015, Chino Valley- It rained hard, and hailed, in early afternoon.  The last time that happened, my students freaked out and I had to be very firm with them.  Today, also a day before a mid-week holiday, all I had to do was calmly remind them that there was no need to flip out, because of weather. We were all safe and warm, and they decided there was no need for excitement.  I’m very proud of the kids, and see steady progress in a number of areas, both emotional and academic.  They made birthday cards for their last teacher, who retired a month ago, and as it happened, she came by today, so she got the cards.  Nothing could have pleased her more.

I am also making headway with the close-knit adults, and was invited to their Christmas party, in mid-December.  The only impediments to my staying on, it seems, are Pearson Testing Services and the State.  The former is notoriously slow to verify  passing of its exams, and Arizona won’t act until Pearson does.  Eventually, I will get my certification, though, and being calm in the midst of chaos will again pay off.