November 2-3, 2015, Chino Valley

Although this deals with two days, I will be succinct.  I feel several changes welling up within me, all of them good.  Some are in reaction to a couple of friends distancing themselves further.  Others have to do with my current working environment:  An odd mix of laid-back, mixed with urgency; innovation, blended with the religious conservative’s passion for order.  I am in a good place here, among some very effervescent people, both children and adults.

The tendency of my eight-and-nine-year olds is to chat, almost incessantly if I were to let them.  Creative work comes second to chatting:  The drawings and the storytelling would be captivating, even to me, were I not after a bigger kettle of fish.  Third grade is a year that has been singled out by the powers that be, as a year that should see measurable intellectual growth.

I believe such growth is happening.  It is obscured by three forces:  Immaturity, which will pass; self-unconfidence, which will dissipate, with a measure of specific praise; and the rudiments of questioning authority, which should only, in my view, be strengthened, and channeled.  “Why, why, why?” states the sign on the upper wall.

We may be able to measure a child’s growth with standardized tests, but the measures will be limited.  Howard Gardner admonished us, long ago now, about recognizing, and honouring, each person’s specific intelligence type.  Gardner was working with populations of Gen-X’ers.  Since his initial research on Multiple Intelligences, more work has been done, with Millennials, and now members of “Generation Z”.  Where he identified five main types of intelligence, many now recognize twelve types. As  we become better-versed in Brain Research, more Intel-types might be parsed.

I am glad to be back in the game, and will remain, whether my role is a “temporary guest teacher” or as more permanent staff.

November 1, 2015, Prescott- 

Day of All Saints

Time to reflect

Transgressions sometimes taint

If one is not circumspect

Day by day,

hour by hour,

Make amends

No matter how much adulation

Showers.

An ephemeral presence am I

in this mortal frame.

Daily circumspection

shall this inner beast

Tame.

October 31, 2015, Phoenix- This day was the first Halloween I have spent away from home, since 1991. The current generation of children are more likely to be confined to one narrow space, or another-either a prescribed street, populated by well-heeled folks, who put up elaborate decorations, or a carefully-arranged event, often (ironically) faith-based.  The turnout on my street, last year, was exactly eight trick-or-treaters.

I had business here yesterday, and elected to stay down in the city, especially after getting invited to a large house party.  The day proceeded as a drive around several Memory Lanes, starting with breakfast at a family restaurant, close to our old house.  It was called Fast Eddie’s, for several years.  Now, it goes by The Cracked Egg.  The Irish Omelet was hot and well-prepared, and the servers congenial.  I like the former name better, but everything else is just fine.  I drove by our former home, finding it occupied by a family who seem to be doing well.  Then, came a visit to Penny’s grave site, where I placed a dozen roses, and reflected on all that we managed to accomplish together, often in spite of ourselves.

After a couple of hours in Sunnyslope’s Acacia Branch Library, and a bit of shopping, I took a couple of strolls around Steele Indian School Park, named for the former Bureau of Indian Affairs residential school, whose vacant buildings are preserved at the site and for Horace C. Steele, a businessman, whose charitable foundation made the park possible.  Several families were enjoying the bright late afternoon, including a few who were fishing the small pond.

After a second stroll, this one at Park Central Mall, which was once managed by my late friend, Mike.  The place was mostly closed for the evening, lending an eerie, but not disconcerting, aura to my time.  It reminded me of a similar walk, last year, at the huge, but silent Frankfurt Messe.

Upon arriving at the aforementioned party, I found myself being greeted by Gomez and Morticia Addams (aka my friends, Jens and Maggie).  There were nearly a hundred people on site, but I seemed to be the only one with a plastic mask (Chewbacca, from “Star Wars”), which precipitated a lot of good-natured chuckles, from the older guests, and eye-rolls from the hipsters.  The food was nice, though, and Maggie’s intense decorations were, as usual, phenomenal.  Three small outbuildings, and the grounds in between, contained theme-park quality displays.  After a few lengthy conversations with some old friends, and new acquaintances, it was time to watch, as Gomez and Morticia offered their signature tango.    We were not disappointed.

I had to head back to Prescott, shortly after 10, but I will recall this much-needed time, reconnecting with old haunts (no pun intended) as a time for grounding.  The coming, very busy two weeks will go much smoother, for the break that was taken.

October 30, 2015, Phoenix- I came down here, shortly after finishing my laundry.  The first order of business was picking up a list of requirements for me to at long last secure an Elementary Teaching Certificate.  I have several other credentials:  Secondary Teaching, Guidance Counselor and Principal.  Now, towards the final phase of my career, it is high time to complete the circle.

I will need to take three 11/2 hour exams, hopefully on a Saturday, which means heading up to Flagstaff, since Yavapai College, in Prescott, only offers tests when I am working.  Flag is a pleasant spot, and I can head up there on a Friday night, after whatever I am doing is finished.

Anyway, afterward, I spent some time with Aram and his good friend, in north central Phoenix, basically getting updates on various matters, and setting tentative plans for next week.  It’ll be good to have him in Prescott, for whatever fleeting time I can spend with him after work, and then, there will be Thanksgiving weekend, when we can both relax.

Tonight was another bit of “old home week”, as I joined a few friends on the west side of the Metro Area, at a house which Penny and I frequented, once a month, for nearly five years.  The family is one whose children I also watched grow into adulthood; the youngest will graduate high school in May. Some find this a “test”.  I find the attainment of adulthood, by those whose births and childhoods I have witnessed, a supreme confirmation.  They will do well, these Millennials, and so will the next generation, coming right behind them.  Isn’t this part of the wonder of humanity?

I ponder much, in my modest little room, at the Travel inn.

October 29, 2015, Chino Valley- The child’s piercing shriek rattled few nerves this afternoon, coming as it did in counterpoint to the pounding rain and hail that visited our school’s roofs.  Her plaint was due to the toppling of some cans of food that she had carefully stacked, in the back of our room, when her classmates went back there to place their Scholastic News copies in their mailboxes.  (We are collecting donations for the needy.)

The girl’s disability leads to these sorts of incidents, on occasion.  On a more regular basis, the innocence and lack of life experience of my eight-and-nine-year-olds bring into play the sorts of events that remind me why I stick with this enterprise called education.  There are many moments of delight and small victory.  There are many moments of hair-pulling (figuratively speaking) and exasperation.    It’s a lot like parenting, or marriage, in that regard.

I had only a few tasks which I needed the kids to finish.  At one point I had to raise my voice, for only the second time in three weeks, when their personal concerns of the moment got in the way of schooling.  I don’t enjoy that part of the deal, and so I keep the roar relatively dull, and infrequent. Nature’s roar, though, was a lot more discomfiting to the children, being less predictable and far less sensitive to little hearts and minds.

In the end, the rain subsided enough for me to get the kids to their parents (We have no school bus driver, and therefore, all students are met by at least one adult family member.) The disabled child was wrapped in her mother’s arms, and another girl, who had gone on a small group field trip, proudly showed me the 20-pound pumpkin she had won.

Tomorrow, I will visit the Arizona Department of Education, in Phoenix, and if my son’s plans coincide, I may stay down there, as a Halloween party is on tap there, on Saturday night.  The sound and fury of this afternoon will have moved on, to New Mexico and Colorado, then to the Mississippi Valley, in time for some frightful scenes on All Hallows Eve.

October 28, 2015, Chino Valley- We have reached the point where whatever might have passed for a “honeymoon”, between my present school and me, has dissipated.  This is not a bad thing.  It means only that my stated mission, to safeguard the well-being of twenty-one children, while challenging them, academically and socially, is more on my shoulders than it is prescribed by those above me.

Administration has its place, and it is a vital place, indeed.  Teamwork is also vital.  Yet, at the end of the day, it is what a teacher can accomplish, when everyone else around him or her is either indisposed or overwhelmed, that makes the difference in the life of a learner.  It is easy for a child to love and admire a teacher who is ever congenial and accommodating.  The rub comes when the docent holds the bar higher.

I have to raise my bar a bit higher, day by day.  I see things coming, that must be faced, and solved, by the now mostly adult Millennials, and by the emerging Generation Z, who include all the children I have taught for the last five years, and all whom I will teach, for the next five.  They have a lot of innate wisdom, but they also face many of the same conflicts and growth challenges that we all faced in childhood and adolescence.  In addition, all the failures of those of us before them will lie at their feet- just as those of our forebears  cast shadows on our tenure as the generation of leadership.

I seek to foster independence, but not swagger, bravado and insolence, about which more tomorrow.

October 27, 2015, Chino Valley- There is a belief, more common than it may seem, that once a relationship becomes no longer of this Earth, the one “left behind” is somehow set adrift, and is on a path that will surely lead to yet another relationship- that IS of this Earth.

I have found this to be applicable to some people.  In the universal sense, though, it is just so much hooey. Of course, generally speaking, the only thing applicable to everyone on Earth is that, eventually, we each get to leave it.

When we do, I am of the belief that one who feels a tie to those who have gone on ahead is able to receive guidance from them, and will connect, more intensely, in the life that follows.  I am of no illusion that I know the form that life will take, though I doubt it will involve corporeal existence.  The tests and trials of a physical life are meant to hone spiritual skills and strengths.

My relationship with the spirit once known as Penny is an eternal one.  I feel guided and much blessed, every day.  My closest friend is, in the words of a couple of songwriters, one in the ’70’s and one earlier this year, “evergreen”.

October 26, 2015, Chino Valley- I am holding my own, as a third grade teacher, it seems.  Three weeks into my nine-week assignment, I find I could extend the term, if the state Department of Education simplifies my elementary certification.  I will ask them what is expected of me, within the next two days.  A certification fee and a couple of tests would be reasonable.  Thousands of dollars on a new course of study would not be.

I was in a labyrinth, of sorts, on Saturday.  I was reminded of the days when getting a teaching certificate here was Byzantine.  Now, standardized testing, of teachers, has made this easier, at least here in Arizona.  I have my transcripts on file down in Phoenix, so that should speed the plow. I will likely be there on Friday, and so would go in to see what else is needed, besides the certificates I already hold.

The bottom lines are: 1. I will be in a good place, whether I remain with my 8&9 year-olds, or move on to another assignment, or two. 2. The children’s security, however, means we need to secure a teacher for the second semester, and soon.  Stay tuned.

October 25, 2015, Prescott- Reflections on a middle-night’s dream:

There came the Little Rascals,

into a coffee shop where I sat.

An adult was with them,

speaking untoward rap.

Egging on the boys and girls,

Her words were enough to make me hurl.

I stood up and re-assured the kids,

that young, fresh days are not meant

for moral skids.

Be free of obligation,

to social degeneration.

I awoke,

having stood my ground,

feeling ready for a day

of love profound.

October 24, 2015, Prescott- I spent a few hours walking the shortest segment of PC, from Willow Lake to Peavine Trail Head, alongside the north and west shores of Watson Lake.  This older and smaller of the twin reservoirs is bounded by  Granite Dells, to the north, Glassford Hill, to the east, and Granite Creek, to the south and west.

The first part of the segment follows Willow Lake Road, away from Willow Dells, to Highway 89, which I crossed, just north of a roundabout, when the near constant flow of traffic was abated, courtesy of traffic signals, some distance away, in either direction.  Highway 89 is a four-laner, and has crosswalks, so no overpass is needed.

I then came to Watson Lake Park, one of my favourites here.  The Dells make it an especially otherworldly place.

The trail took me away from the Dells, for a bit, along the west shore, where waterfowl were abundant.  Two Greater Sandhill Cranes were among the crowd.

As you can see above, at first, the female was being rather coy.The riparian trail then went off into the marshy terrain near Granite Creek, which is rather paltry at present.

Upon coming to the rather mundane Peavine Trail Head, I resolved to return there and resume my hike, with segment 7.  Ambling back to Watson Lake, I spotted a lone kayaker.

The surreality of the Dells never gets old, so here we are again.

Next up:  The Peavine Trail Head to Highway 69. (First half of Segment 7).