Back to School...Turning Away

Flowers in late summer

Cicadas....I hate them.

In Iowa, we always said that they are a good indicator of the first frost coming in about six weeks.

It wouldn't work that way in the UP, because under the right conditions, frost can occur just about any time.

But cicadas for me were always a panic-inducing indicator that summer vacation for kids and teachers was almost over. Just hearing them start their buzzing would bring on a feeling of dread.

another late summer flower

It's taken me a year of freedom to be able to write about this.  But there were so so so many things I didn't like about teaching.  And very few things that I did.

What I didn't like:

Starting off with meeting after meeting, usually about the newest buzzwords about teaching.  These buzzwords usually weren't made up by a teacher, but rather by someone in a "higher" position, often in a political sense. Someone not in touch with what everyday life in the trenches of teaching is really all about, especially for someone in the arts. In spite of the fact that the buzzwords had nothing whatever to do with my field, all of us "square pegs" were always pounded somehow into the round holes, because otherwise it wouldn't be fair to the others who might actually get something out of whatever the newest political scheme/educational trend was all about.

If you haven't figured it out, yet.  I am an introvert.  That is not to say that I don't have friends who I love dearly. I am just better off alone most of the time.  So I would really have to psych myself up to go to meetings and do the yearly icebreaker/team-building activities.  And I would get so tired of people telling me that it "takes a village" and "we're all working on this together" and whatever, whatever, whatever the excuse was to have to collaborate with people who knew very, very little about what it was that teaching middle school kids something about music in a school that really placed nearly all its value on athletics and its neat elite public persona and nearly NOTHING on the arts was all about.  Yes, I know I am raving.  It's time to say it.  Now is the time.

And money, money, money.  I look at all the money that is being poured into the superficial public perception of what a Catholic School should appear to LOOK LIKE, and much much more money poured into the athletic program which obviously is the key to making all our students successful in the future, and therefore making a lot more money that they can then donate to said school.

Ridiculous.  I begged for every dollar.  I gave up begging and bought thousands of dollars of my own stuff to try to make a program that just MIGHT make students a little more well-rounded, or at least accepting of the tiny minority of people in the world whose world does not revolve around one singular interest/sport/pursuit of money and stuff.

A year ago at this time, I was still feeling a little shell-shocked.  I had just barely escaped the system; we had just moved.  I didn't really know where my life was headed, other than AWAY from all that. I was also really smarting about the final kick out the door I received from administrators, when I told them I would be leaving, after having signed a contract for another year.  The final irony was, since I wasn't leaving to pursue something "important" to them, just sanity and a quieter life and a place where maybe I could serve others, and not, after all, a higher paying job that would bring me more glory through bigger (read "athletic") pursuits, and unlike other people who HAD left for those reasons, and therefore were not penalized in any large punitive-type way, I PAID.  I paid for it the two best ways they could think of to make me pay.  First, they took away a month's salary so they could pay for the vast expenses of hiring someone who lived a few blocks down the street.  The other big kick in the pants was to realize by their attitude that my years of struggling to create beauty and acceptance and maybe even a love for something other thanTop 40 music was not only unappreciated, it was basically UNKNOWN to them. What the hell.

So, the cicadas are singing.  Is there anything I miss?  What I miss seems so fleeting. Tiny light bulb moments of happiness caused by student success, or just the kindnesses I felt from many of my student-friends-kindred spirits. Most ephemeral of all, moments of true music-making: chords in tune, the gentle ocean wave of a emotionally satisfying musical phrase, the eye-opening experience of discovering that something ELSE exists in life other than the superficial values placed on them by an elitist, hypocritical, supposedly (but not very) Christian community.

So, the cicadas are singing.  And I can get up early in the morning and go to work in a place I don't want to leave at the end of the day.  Because I spend my day creating beauty.  And no one makes me go to a meeting to decide whether or not I am going about it the right way.  And I am free to think for myself.  I'm not making much money.  In fact, most months we scrimp and scrape to pay the bills.   But when a person comes in and needs legal help and has little money, I hear Bob doing everything he can to make it work for them, and when I see someone whose day is brightened by something I have made, I make sure they can afford it.  I am free to make someone's day, and sometimes, I DO.

this is Audrey's beautiful rainbow beach picture, not mine

So the cicadas are singing, and I am feeling relieved.  Because my little shop is growing more beautiful every day, filling with stuff I (and other artists) have made.  And people come in and tell me my creations are beautiful and unique.  They buy gifts to delight their friends, who then come in and buy gifts to delight theirs.

And so, I encourage people to make their own creations.  I inspire people who are in a creative funk to get out of it.  I make people realize that they can be and ARE artists in their own right.  Almost sounds a little like teaching. Or maybe just what teaching OUGHT TO BE.

So keep singing, cicadas, and little birds, and all of nature, in this most beautiful of landscapes.  And I'll keep being inspired, and not filled with fear or dread, but rather with joy in a future that I've finally found here in the UP.

White Admiral Butterfly on Joe Pye Weed

Spotted Knapp Weed

the road (trail) much less traveled

I love bees

just as I said

If you read all that, thanks for listening.  I really needed to say it (probably at least) one more time, so that it could start to go away....

P.S.  This post is dedicated to my lovely friends, old and new, both those who helped me to see the good moments of teaching, and those who who have helped lead me into this new life of adventures! You know I wish you all the very best in whatever you are passionate about!

Peg interrupts his pursuit of happiness (birdwatching) to say hello