Just to be Clear

Just to be clear:  The Pledge of Allegiance

I                      (me, myself alone, individually)

pledge           (promise, swear, avow)

allegiance    (loyalty, respect, service)

to                    (toward, at, on)

the                  (that one)

flag                (emblem, symbol, token, banner, standard, ensign)

of                    (from, by, caused by)

the                  (that one)

United          (joined, combined together, made one, in agreement and harmony)

States            (circumstances, attributes, conditions, position, rank, style,
                         power, body, political organization)

of                    (from, by, caused by)

America,      (The United States of America)

and                (in addition to)

to                    (toward, at, on)

the                  (that one)

republic       (representative government, democracy)

for                  (in place of, in the interest of, in favor of, in honor of, in order to be)

which            (what one of several, the one that is meant)

it                     (The official flag of The United States of America, Old Glory,
                         The Star Spangled Banner)

stands,          (represents, symbolizes)

one                 (single, unique)

nation           (stable community of people with a territory, history,
                          culture in common)

under            (governed by, in the power of, obedient to, subordinate to,
                          belonging to)

God,              (lord, deity, supreme being: e.g., Jehovah, Yahweh, Allah, Brahma,
                          Buddha, Mazda, Ormazd)

indivisible,  (one nation of states united together to form one country,
                          not separated into parts)

with               (along side of, near to, in addition to, in the company of)

liberty           (freedom, enfranchisement, power of choice)

and                (in addition to, also)

justice           (righteousness, fairness, rightfulness, truth, equity, constitutionality)

for                  (in place of, in the interest of, in favor of, in honor of, in order to be)

all.                  (every individual citizen and each united together)

                                                                                                                                  10/6/01-06/14/12

Transcendental Meditations

This was one of those “merry-go-round” spring days—the sun was warm, the clouds came and went, the wind was light but cool and refreshing—and everything was up and down, high and low, and bittersweet.

We had a fairly easy early morning before going to watch our older grandson play baseball.  Watching six-year-olds learning America’s game is always so fascinating.  One minute they’re chasing butterflies at short stop, and the next they’re hitting a liner into the outfield and racing for first or picking up a hot grounder down the third baseline and throwing the runner out.  In our chairs in the outfield we applauded them all and knew we were getting sunburned as we huddled in our light jackets against the north wind.  We are so proud of our son who is helping coach his son and his friends and our grandson who is having so much fun.

In the middle of the second inning something seemed to be scratching the back of my chair, but I couldn’t place the sound.  I turned around to my right to look at the dad and his son who were practicing behind us, but they were just playing catch.  I turned to my left and realized that there was a bird perched on the back of my chair!  I stood up and took a better look.  Yes, it was still there!  With a closer look, I realized it was an immature black-capped chickadee.  It sat there long enough to make sure my younger grandson got a look and I could take a couple of pictures before it decided it needed to exercise its wings again and took off.  Mom and Dad chickadee were nowhere around.  I guess they’d done their coaching and the youngster was flying solo.

As soon as the baseball game was over, I headed home to grab a quick bite of lunch and change clothes before heading to school for the 2012 Commencement exercises.  The faculty gathered and chatted about the end of another school year while trying to remember just how the hoods were to be arranged over their robes.  The graduates assembled, flocking like blackbirds, moving in small group choreographies before being directed to their separate flocks to line up for the ceremony.

Short speeches.  Lists of names.  Thank you.  Best of luck.  Commence.

Some were excited to be escaping their four-year-old nest of disappointment and relative failure.  Others were vacillating between laughter and tears.  Up and down. Around and around.

I’ve been here before, going on as well as remaining.  It’s always interesting to see them taking off…testing their wings…sometimes looking back for Mom and Dad as they decide which pony to ride…look for the ring.

Around and around it goes.  Up and down.  Another summer is coming.

Senioritis

For the last couple of weeks I’ve had students dropping by my classroom or meeting me in the hallways and handing me cards or envelopes—invitations to their Senior Open House parties.  I usually collect twenty or thirty of them before graduation.  The colorful pile that collects on my desk reminds me of autumn leaves, each one a photograph or collage depicting another student “falling” from my tree of daily encounters and events and joining my basket of memorabilia.  Nancy tried to “clean up” my study last year and put my collection of cards and letters and clippings in a neat stack or in a cute basket she found somewhere.  Little does she know that I have almost a whole filing cabinet drawer full of similar detritus.  Every now and then I stop whatever I’m doing (it’s a great procrastination technique) and leaf through the piles and stacks and file folders.  Since next month marks the end of my 40^th school year as a professional educator, it’s getting to be quite a collection.

During my first ten years as a full-time high school teacher I was the school yearbook sponsor.  Occasionally I thumb through those volumes, too, usually looking for a name to go with a face or something to jar a memory when I’ve had an embarrassing encounter with a former student.  Even though I warn them that I won’t be able to put names with faces after class is over, it’s still a shortcoming that bothers me when I can’t remember a name.  My dear wife has gotten used to my “neglecting” to introduce former students to her when we chance to meet them.  She knows that I don’t call them by name because I don’t remember which one goes with the people we’ve met.

I hope that all the joking we do about Old-Timer’s Disease and the Absent-Minded Professor are just that…jokes.  It is frustrating that I don’t remember the name of a standout student from five or ten or thirty years ago, yet I can tell you the name of Alexander the Great’s horse (and I can even spell Bucephalus) or the year of the Battle of Hastings (1066  If you want to know why that’s important, look it up!).

My piles and baskets and drawers-full of mementos are important to me, though, for more than reminding me of people’s names.  Each one of those cards or letters or photographs or albums represents some aspect of my life’s work.  As each school year draws to a close, those missives from the seniors cause me to stop now and then and think about whom I’ve met and what we’ve done.  I like to reflect on the year and take stock.  Have I been successful?  Where are the brightest lights?  Where could I have been more effective?  How?  Plunging into the “collected works” can really cause me to stop and think.  Not all of those reminders are of the most pleasant things, but most are.

I’ve always told myself that each year is a chance to get better not only at what I do but who I am.  I saw a sign the other day: “I became a teacher not for the income but the outcomes.”  I definitely haven’t had the greatest income, but I’d like to think that most of the outcomes have been good.  Now and then I have to check to see.  I just need some help remembering some times!

Do I Know You?

One of my favorite poems is this one by Donald Justice:

“On the Death of Friends in Childhood”

We shall not ever meet them bearded in heaven,

Nor sunning themselves among the bald in hell;

If anywhere, in the deserted schoolyard at twilight,

Forming a ring, perhaps, or joining hands

In games whose very name we have forgotten,

Come, memory, let us seek them there in the shadows.

It’s not that I’m being morbid.  I like the basic concept Justice is presenting here: the last time we see someone is the image of that person that is burned into our memory and the way we remember them until we meet them again.  I like that.

This is something I’ve thought of often since I’ve been a facebook user.  Most of my “friends” are high school or college classmates or former students.  I’ve been out of high school since 1968, college (undergrad) since 1972, and I’ve been a teacher for 40 years.  Some of my former students are grandparents!  I have not seen most of these people in just about that length of time.  The pictures I have of them in the yearbooks of my memory are images of those last encounters.

My alma mater folded in 1992.  The alumni organization is quite strong, and we have a reunion at the end of June each year.  My fraternity brothers and I started getting together in that little town a few years ago, and now I have a pretty good catalog of gray-haired fraternity “boys” and former classmates.  We get together and reminisce (we can tell the same stories to one another every year since none of us can remember the truth for 12 months!) and show pictures of our grandkids.

Social networking is another matter.  It’s always interesting to get a new “friend” request.  I’ve made it a practice only to accept requests from former students (not current ones).  Those who graduate in May and ask to “friend” me in June typically end up asking me to proofread college essays or write more recommendations for a year or so, and then I don’t hear from them for a long time.

My high school classmates and students from 25-40 years ago are another story.  Some of them are still in the vicinity, like I am.  I have run into a few at different venues, especially those folk who like my son’s music.  It’s fun to experience that “Aha!” moment when one or the other of us comes to recognition.  Usually people remember me.  Not because I am so memorable but that I can’t remember until someone reminds me!

The facebook requests from these older students are the fun ones.  Many people use current pictures of themselves as their Homepage icons.  Some don’t.  Now and then I have to look at their pages to check hometowns to see if they are former students or classmates.  The women present another problem.  If they use their married names instead of their maiden names, I have no idea who they are!  You can’t pay me enough to talk about those photos!

One of my fraternity brothers made an interesting observation a few weeks ago.  He took an unofficial poll (of his facebook friends) and noticed that most of the men post their pictures.  The women use shots of their children, grandchildren, pets, or favorite quotations, etc.  He took some heat for it, but I think he’s probably right.

Does that mean the women are more vain than the men?  I’m not going there, either.

Actually, I think it’s terrific that so many of those 60+ classmates and “younger” students of mine are cruising the Net.  We’ve had some fun re-discovering one another.  No, it’s not always what I want to know (I don’t like cats, and I don’t discuss politics or religion with anyone), and I don’t play computer games of any kind, but it’s still interesting to see where people have gone both geographically and personally in their lives.

Most of the time it makes me feel pretty ordinary…and comparatively (sometimes) that’s just fine with me!  When I stop and honestly consider who I was so long ago, I’d just as soon they got a more current picture than the one with which I left them.  They may not meet me “bearded in heaven” someday, and despite my hair loss, I hope we don’t renew our acquaintance in hell!

What color is alone?

The Blues is blue, right? When you’re feeling down and out, depressed, sad…it’s a blue feeling. It’s dim and dusky like a back table near closing time in a smoky bar. The blue hangs in the air like stale cigarette smoke.

Happiness and joy must be the glaring whiteness of a noon sun on new snow or maybe the bright softness of a field of yellow flowers.

Greed and envy, for some reason, share the green of new grass. It’s a green-eyed monster and the color of old money. Does a miser take on the hue of old bills and give off a mist of emerald gas?

We associate emotion and color in so many ways. I’ve always wondered, though, what color is alone? Take out your box of crayons and life’s coloring book and look for the picture of yourself in a crowd, the lost pebble that is a solitary person surrounded by a sea of people, their conversations and associations washing over you. Which color are you? Turn the page and find the picture that reminds you of the lonely nights when you’re isolated in your room or your car and absolutely no one is near.

What color is your loneliness? Which crayon is in your hand to outline the disconnect you feel or fill in the spaces of your need?

What color is the emptiness when you can’t hear a familiar voice, or you don’t even have the echo of a memory of the last “hello”…or “goodbye”?

What color is the place where you can’t feel the touch?

What color is heartache?

What color is alone?

“Once more unto the breach, dear friends….”

I suppose quoting Harry in the middle of a battle is a bit dramatic for the beginning of a new year, but I’m afraid there are too many comparisons to ignore it.  On the other hand, approaching 2012 as another year of opportunity instead of conflict is much more optimistic.  I’m too much an optimist to start out dreading what might come….

My favorite quotation, as my students will attest, is Thoreau’s comment in Walden about building castles in the air and then putting foundations under them.  I tell them to note that the dream comes first; then the brick and mortar.  This also, however, means that some reflection has taken place beforehand, contemplation of what has brought us to this place and why, who has helped prepare us for the dreaming and building and, perhaps, been our foundation all along.

In other words, the start of a new year is a good time for reflection as well as looking ahead!

This reflection is easier for me, I think, at the start of my 62^nd year than it is for my students in their 17^th or 18^th.  My memory may be bad, but I have more to remember than they do. 

The last year had its usual assortment of ups and downs for me.  Nothing terribly tragic occurred in my family even though it might have appeared so at the time.  My sons continue to make me very proud, as does my daughter-in-law.  My grandsons are quickly coming into their own distinct personalities and add so much delight to our lives.  Our wider family and circle of close friends also add to the warm glow that is every day.  Best of all, Nancy and I continue, after 39 years together, to discover and grow in our love for one another.

History has always interested me, particularly when I can make associations and connections from the past to the present, see the cyclical or spiral nature of events.  I’ve enjoyed reconnecting with people from my past—former classmates, students, colleagues—and drawn on some of those relationships as I look to the future for new opportunities and endeavors.  It will be fascinating to see what the new year brings.

I look forward this year most of all to my new grandchild.  Most are hoping for a girl, but I think the odds are against them.  Boy or girl, I am sure this addition to our family will bring us joy as well as his or her own challenges and changes.

I am hopeful that everyone will find opportunities to grow.  Clayton and Britnie are settling into their new jobs—parenting three children will bring its own…opportunities.  Matthew is at a crossroads of sorts in his music as he becomes once again primarily a solo artist.  I look forward to hearing new music!

My alma mater, Tarkio College, seems poised at rebirth after twenty years of closed doors.  Talk about challenges and opportunities!  This should be fun.

Every day I’ve been in the classroom I have seen all of this promise, the future building on the past, in the faces of my students.  My career is winding down and I look forward to new things, new faces in the next year or two.  It’s always great to see what they will do with their lives.  I am often surprised by them.

To paraphrase my favorite poet, Robert Frost, I enjoy looking into the woods so dark and deep with memories and the promise of peace, perhaps, but I, too, have “miles to go before I sleep,” and it’s time to get on with it.

Happy New Year!  Grab a brick.  You have castles to build.