Contentment

My work area usually looks as though a hurricane has howled through. Yeah, I know, teachers are supposed to be well organized, with a place for everything and everything in its place. But I’m not. I seem to have inherited the “messy” gene from my father, whose filing system was simply to spread folders and papers and envelopes all over the living room floor.

I’m not so much a spreader as I am a “pilot”—I pile it here and pile it there until you’d think I was trying to replicate the Leaning Tower of Pisa with student papers. As you can imagine, it’s sometimes hard to lay my hand on just exactly what I’m looking for at any given moment, although most of the time I manage quite nicely.

Still, the messiness of my desktop is deplorable, and so it was with great delight I discovered a little slip of paper lying on top of the rubble this afternoon. (See the photo above.) I recognized the writing instantly—“Seth” had scrawled what appears to be a poem, but had not put his name on it. Apparently he had dropped it on my desktop sometime today when I was busy doing other things.

I’ve reproduced it here and given it a title:

Seth’s Song

I got two eyes.
I got money.
I have brothers.
I have sisters two.
I have got [indecipherable].
I have got a mother.
I have got a father.
I have a school to go to.
I have got friends to play with.
I have got a bathroom.

"Seth’s Song" could have been lost among all the papers cluttering my desk, but I’m glad it wasn’t. It’s a gentle reminder that simple things—including simple songs—can often bring great contentment. If you have eyes and a family, a school and friends—and a bathroom—what more can you possibly want?

The Choice Is Yours

When MC, my life-long friend in Colorado, read about how “Seth” brightened my day, she decided to share her own bright-moment story with me. MC is a fully certified teacher and reading specialist, unable to find a teaching position in her district, so she’s been forced to work as a paraprofessional for the past two or three years. Her day-to-day struggles in a classroom that’s not her own make her story of the healing power of literature all the more poignant:

I was down in the dumps yesterday too ... job hunting is SO hard. At least you’re getting interviews ... I’m not even getting interviews.

But ... the woman who I assist was out today ... and one of our girls was having an awful time. The sub doesn’t know the kids, so I pulled Sarah aside to find out what was up. I thought maybe she was on cocaine ... her eyes were glassy, and she kept rocking back and forth in her chair in class. (Remember, I’m working with teens, all of whom have been expelled from school for one reason or another.)

No, she wasn’t high. Her parents had to go to court today to see if they could keep Sarah or if she would be put into foster care. She wants to stay with her parents. The “glassy" look in her eyes was from fighting back tears. Once she was able to tell me how upset she’s feeling, and how frightened, then she was able to return to class and quit rocking.

Sarah loves to read and had just started a new novel from our in-class collection. So I told her to borrow it for the weekend (there’s no school tomorrow ... a “teacher work day.”) Her face lit up ... you would think I’d just given her a thousand dollars. But I remember when my parents were fighting when I was a teen ... I could dive right into a novel and just be in that other world for hours on end. Literature was a joy for me, but also a refuge. And today I could offer that refuge to a 14-year-old. So today was a good day.

Here at the Jewel School we have a morning message that always ends with this reminder: “Make it a great day, or not, the choice is yours.” Sometimes I remember to choose to make it a great day, as my friend MC did, by doing something kind for someone else.

And when I forget to choose? Then someone like Seth comes along and brightens my day.

All in all, this teaching life is a pretty good one, and I wouldn’t trade it for any other.

Alleluia

With yellow blossoms,
Cactus rises up to praise
Sere mountains, blue sky.

© 2008 by CaliforniaTeacherGuy

Guardians

Silent sentinels,
Raising their golden standards,
Guard sacred mountains.

© 2008 by CaliforniaTeacherGuy

Blossoms

Scattered like snowflakes
On hot desert floor, spent blooms
Melt into humus.

© 2008 by CaliforniaTeacherGuy

A Bright and Shining Moment

Wednesday didn’t start out well. A telephone interview with a district in northern California turned into a disaster when I started stumbling over some of the questions. On my way back to my classroom, I muttered to myself, “That’s it. I’m done with interviews. No more. I don’t care if I teach next year or not.”

My feelings of self-pity and gloom persisted throughout the morning. I followed my lesson plans doggedly, but without any joy. I couldn’t wait for the day to end.

By the time third period arrived, I was counting the second until quitting time. Even reading Island of the Blue Dolphins with my class didn’t help to lift the dark cloud that had settled over me. I read the words of Scott O’Dell’s enchanting story without pleasure. They were just ink spots on paper.

But even on gloomy days I can’t abandon my teacher persona, one part of which is constantly urging me to check to see that my students understand. After we read this sentence, “All of them were from male cormorants whose feathers are thicker than those of the females and much glossier,” I asked, “What does glossier or glossy mean?”

I looked around the room and was greeted by glazed, uncomprehending eyes. “So,” I said, “if something is glossy, what is it? What’s a synonym for glossy?”

One hand shot up—“Seth’s.” Inwardly I groaned. I couldn’t imagine what this child with mild mental retardation might say. Seth’s the kid who isn’t always sure where to go when it’s time to move on to the next class—even though he’s had the same schedule all year. Seth’s the kid who can barely read and write and who, unless one of my aides or I sit beside him and keep him on task, will wander off into his own little world of daydreams and crude (as in rudimentary) drawings. Seth is definitely not a wordsmith. How could he possibly know a synonym for glossy?

Yet without even waiting for me to acknowledge his hand and give him permission to speak, Seth said, “Shiny.”

“Exactly!” I cried. “Glossy means shiny. Thank you, Seth. The feathers of the male cormorant are glossier—shinier—than those of the female cormorant.”

And just like that, my gloom lifted.

C.S. Lewis was surprised by joy. I was surprised by light—one bright and shining moment changed my day.

Accent

Splashes of purple
Against the barren mountains
Brighten desert days.

© 2008 by CaliforniaTeacherGuy