Driving down the hill to teach at the local Middle School this morning, the concept of 'Friday the 13th' wove it's way into my head... maybe something on the radio... the stations I wish would play only uplifting music to bring me to a work mode, but which seem to rely heavily upon extraneous commentary in the morning hours.
My favorite comedienne as a child was Phyllis Diller, who maintained that Friday the 13th was her lucky day. Phyllis was an iconoclast. I did not know what an iconoclast was when I was 9, but I somehow got that she was not following the party line, and that was for me. In order to equate myself with Phyllis, I decided Friday the 13th was my lucky day too. Ah, the impulsive logic of the child mind.
Today, being my lucky day, maybe I dropped the ball, or maybe I began with a Zen like calm which would allow me to function through the day which awaited me. The day was, as someone famous said, "One darned thing after another".
The drive was a little icy, but I safely arrived to the parking lot early, with a responsible sack lunch packed and sitting next to me. I did the last minute leave the car routines, and decided to keep the lunch in the car so I wouldn't have to lug it around, or have it get warm. I put on pink lipstick ( middle school kids seem to notice it) and I exited the car, locked it, and promptly realized that my keys were still in the ignition. I have done this before... and always think that I should never have to do it again. Well, today I was in some kind of Zen Siddhartha River, and the universe was testing me. No lunch, and a snafu to figure out later.
When I arrived at the appointed classroom, to work for a teacher new to me, I quickly began the exercise of orienting myself to the daily routine in a space of about 10 minutes. The classroom aid came in, bless her heart, and began to fill in the gaps, but even then, there were gaps... the teacher is a techie, his aid is not.
Nowadays in the classrooms they have these electronic wall pieces called 'Smart boards'. They interface with a computer, and project onto a screen. This is the new 'chalkboard'. They are very expensive, and not simple to use. I am still barely learning. (Plus, it seems the teachers have PC's, and I, alas, am a mac user.)
Laura, who teaches math upstairs, came in to help me, I sub for her and she knows I'm in the building. As she began to help me access the right programs for the smart board, we soon heard a loud POP. The bulb in the ceiling projector had just extinguished itself... funny (back to my love of comedy) that just yesterday at another school a teacher was telling me "those bulbs cost a million dollars" - perfect irony to the fact that we were studying the word 'hyperbole', for freshman English.
Another teacher arrived to look at the projector and flatly stated, "You won't be able to use this today".
All the lessons were set to appear on this smart thing, and I could not help but think about how dumb this felt to me.
At this point I began to improvise quickly and ruthlessly.... keeping my Siddhartha Zen calm. I taught the days lessons without technology. Mrs. Patrick, the classroom aid was a great boon here. She figured out how to find the math quiz, and make hard copies of it... bless her heart.
The kids in these classes were considered 'special ed', and I loved them all....
The day progressed with many actual teaching opportunities, which for a substitute constitute that warm feeling of validation which everyone seeks in a working life. I taught young James, who I had met working one on one in study hall last year. He is the gentlest middle school age kid I have ever encountered, and he smiles about 80% of the time. The fact that his home work paper was heavy with the smell of cigarette smoke made me sad. Who knows how much of his learning disability is caused by second hand smoke?
During my lunch 1/2 hour, after doing lunch duty all through what would have been the teacher's prep time, I was able to call AAA. The savior truck came and unlocked my car, so for the second half of the day I didn't have to ponder that problem any more. Thanks Mom, your yearly gift of AAA makes these kinds of goof ups so much less painful...
Another weird occurrence was watching 3 male teachers have to subdue a kid who went crazy with anger because he couldn't participate in a group game time, he had not earned the privilege. A staff person told me the district decided it could not afford to give the staff training in responding to physically violent students. I wonder how much that cost would compare to a smart board in every classroom. Technology has taken the lions share it seems, not just in schools, but in every other facet of life, except maybe that of a monk.
The day ended with me buying myself a much deserved IPA, what I thought was IPA, but turned out to be Porter. I guess my Zen state was just slightly jangled. Luckily I arrived home to a warm house, and only a few minor problems in tutoring land. My printer decided to be out of toner, and a new cartridge costs almost as much as the printer cost new. This seems like a cruel trick to me, but I am making myself realize I must accept the new paradigms, smart or not.
Now it is the weekend, and we can sit back and think about a man who practiced non-violence. That is a pleasing prospect. Happy Birthday Martin. I am so glad we have a holiday for you, we need holidays.
Saturday, January 14, 2012
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
Where to Build the Fire
This morning, while contemplating the various complexities of the world situation - 2012- the Jack London story "To Build a Fire" surfaced in my mental stream of thought. That story was connected to a family discussion of the concept a "Three dog night" where the North dwellers only survived bitter cold by huddling up with their dogs. We have 2 lovely Huskies in my family who would be more than happy to cuddle up on a cold night.
Jack London's character had a dog, but the dog was much more able to withstand cold than the man.
The man built his fire under a spruce tree, and picked its twigs off, upsetting the balance of the tree. Finally the tree bent and its snow dumped onto the man's last good fire, his life line. He tried another fire, but it failed taking all his remaining matches. He then ran along side the creek, hoping to warm himself, his dog running with him. When he could no longer move because of cold, he stopped, and succumbed to hypothermia. The dog waited unit he knew the man was finally gone, then ran on to the original camp destination.
That story made me think again about how reliant we are on the other creatures of the world, and on the laws of physics for our survival. Where we build our fires is important. If we are cold, and this fire is of vital importance, we may take one last look around to see the landscape and let it speak to us. The dog is only a dog, but will survive because he has the genetics to do so. The creatures of the earth will serve us, only as long as our own consciousness holds out.
We talked of harmony tonight, and how when chanting or singing with other voices we instinctively search for the right tone and pitch to achieve the magic sound. It takes a keen sense of the other voices, the air, that acoustics, and the intentions of all present to create a harmony. This happens with deep consciousness. Where we listen, how we listen, where we decide to build our fire.
I like these thoughts to begin the new year. I like thinking about what I can do for survival and harmony at once. Maybe the man building the fire should have been more aware of the dog, who has been bred for generations to live in the harsh climates of the frozen North. Maybe the country could practice awareness of the tones others are singing, to blend in, rather than stand out. If we watch carefully we may hear and see the small messages our world sends to us, not always linear, not always obvious.
Jack London's character had a dog, but the dog was much more able to withstand cold than the man.
The man built his fire under a spruce tree, and picked its twigs off, upsetting the balance of the tree. Finally the tree bent and its snow dumped onto the man's last good fire, his life line. He tried another fire, but it failed taking all his remaining matches. He then ran along side the creek, hoping to warm himself, his dog running with him. When he could no longer move because of cold, he stopped, and succumbed to hypothermia. The dog waited unit he knew the man was finally gone, then ran on to the original camp destination.
That story made me think again about how reliant we are on the other creatures of the world, and on the laws of physics for our survival. Where we build our fires is important. If we are cold, and this fire is of vital importance, we may take one last look around to see the landscape and let it speak to us. The dog is only a dog, but will survive because he has the genetics to do so. The creatures of the earth will serve us, only as long as our own consciousness holds out.
We talked of harmony tonight, and how when chanting or singing with other voices we instinctively search for the right tone and pitch to achieve the magic sound. It takes a keen sense of the other voices, the air, that acoustics, and the intentions of all present to create a harmony. This happens with deep consciousness. Where we listen, how we listen, where we decide to build our fire.
I like these thoughts to begin the new year. I like thinking about what I can do for survival and harmony at once. Maybe the man building the fire should have been more aware of the dog, who has been bred for generations to live in the harsh climates of the frozen North. Maybe the country could practice awareness of the tones others are singing, to blend in, rather than stand out. If we watch carefully we may hear and see the small messages our world sends to us, not always linear, not always obvious.
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