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 309: The Sardine Can

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October 2, 2015, Prescott-  It seems that some school administrators regard placing large numbers of unsettled people into a classroom, late in the day, as a necessary test of the mettle of classroom teachers.  I disagree.  The classroom is a place of learning, not an arena for adult machismo.

I have yet to meet any child, either adolescent or younger, who truly enjoys being stuffed into a sardine can of a room, regardless of how much he or she seems to get a bang out of causing a disturbance that throws the learning exercise off track. It’s human nature to strive for improvement, just as it’s human nature to strike out at being treated like an afterthought.

These thoughts come to mind, after a particularly difficult end to a generally good day. Dealing with people who were jabbing one another with sharp pens and pencils, and yelling over the soundtrack of a video on a totalitarian State is not my idea of paradise, and truth be known, it is not something I will have to do again, any time soon.  First, the Principal of the school has hired more teachers to reduce the class sizes, and after Fall Break, the school promises to be a more equitable place.  Secondly, I will have only Fridays to offer my services there, as a more permanent job will occupy me, the first four days of the workweek.

My point remains, however, that the only way people, of any age, are going to learn is if those devising the system of learning regard their charges as worthy of the same respect they demand for themselves.  By this, I mean deep learning- not just the cognitive command of facts and data.

The Road to 65, Mile 293: Transition

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September 16, 2015, Prescott-  Someone remarked to me, online,this evening, that my generation is finished and that I should get in my “slot”, with regard to working with youth.  I know enough about this person to understand that he was just trying to get a rise out of me.  It didn’t work, in that way, but it did strike me as ironic,as did his plaint that I was “bouncing around too much”.

The irony is that I have entered  a five-year period of relative settlement, following four years of “bouncing around”.  At a time in life when many people, especially those in the Western countries, almost demand that we retire from work, and berate those who don’t, I am returning to a regular work schedule.  The reasons are two:  First, I am not ready to leave the world of education behind.  Second, another Western value is that we remain independent and do not burden others, financially.

I recently read of a woman, age 100, who is still working as an educator. I applaud her! In my case, I plan to work until age 70, take a two-year sabbatical of focused travel, then return to work for three more years or so.  I think 75 will be a good age for me to stop gainful employment, but I don’t know as I will ever occupy a “slot”, determined by others.  Conversely, I don’t ever presume to think I will know what is best for others.

So, as my transition back to having a room full of children as my daily, and long-term, responsibility begins, and I get acquainted with my students, starting next week, I ask the gadfly, and all others who look askance at those of us who do not go gently into that good night, to stay tuned.  I have lots left.

The Road to 65, Mile 288: When Systems Fail

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September 11, 2015, Prescott- I checked on my pay status, early  this morning, and found that the employer in question had not deposited my due payment.  So, after getting self together, I went to the office of my immediate supervisor, who looked into the matter and arranged for due payment for me, and several others who were likewise inconvenienced, either by a system glitch or by the negligence of clerks.

This being the fourteenth anniversary of the various attacks on U.S. soil, I think about systemic failures, large and small.  It’s quite clear that the New York attacks were the subject of chatter, days before they happened, but human error, or insouciance, led to a lack of defensive action.  Of course, implosion devices, installed during the Clinton years, led to the collapse of the Twin Towers, rather than an outward explosion, which would have compounded the deaths and destruction in lower Manhattan.  That is no comfort at all for the thousands of families affected, in perpetuity, by the horror of that day, and its subsequent days of loss and suffering.

The other two major events of that day seem more surreal.  There is some doubt, in several circles, as to the truth in the matter of the Pentagon attack.  I have seen the Memorial, and am certain that all those who are remembered there, died a horrible death, aboard a plane.  Naysayers, who wonder if there was indeed a plane, are no help to the families who lost people that day.  The most likely scenario is that the plane vaporized, though the question remains:  “What was done with the wreckage?”  For reasons of national security, we may never know.

I have also been to the site of the Pennsylvania crash.  The Earth was scorched, and there were signs of a huge crash there, when Penny and I stopped there, in 2009.  There are sufficient voice recordings to back up the reports of that day.  The farmer, on whose land the crash occurred, had no reason to simply give up that section of his property to the U.S. Government, on a whim.  So, I am sure this event occurred, as reported.

There will always be failures of systems, large and small, whenever those in the system make errors in judgment, are fatigued, or get distracted. My father’s, and one of my high school mentor’s, exhortations to ALWAYS have a Plan B, have come in handy, time and again- and never more so than now.  We may very well face a time when government grinds to a screeching halt, the finances we take for granted dissipate, however temporarily, and we are left with whatever family or community we have had the wisdom to cultivate- for a fair length of time.

I am not a doomsayer, or one who believes in a cup half-empty, yet being prepared is more than a Scout motto.

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.