Slicing the Apple

Going through life hoping for May, when it's only September, is like going from the stem of the apple straight through to the leftover shriveled-up-blossomy thing on the bottom of the fruit. You get there, but it's hard, tough, and seedy. The act of teaching demands more from the teacher than "getting it over with", it demands being in the place, being of the place. The workload increases but so do the rewards: watching change happen, knowing you make a difference, enjoying the fruit of the labor.

LKC

Forty-six fall seasons have come and gone. Each one of those years found me reveling in the smell and feel of new school supplies. This year is no exception: I have a new stapler that isn't black and a new mimieo that is addictive (It's similar to a smart board. Caution: It is not a mimiograph machine, which I did use early in my career).

The room varies with the place. I have been in an old building that came with one of the original walk-in closets and another that had bats flying through the third floor hallways at night, a new building with no stairs and no personality, and in-between places that teemed with life and laughter. I'm at one of those now :)

The other eleven Septembers found me playing at home until age four, working in a factory making transistors (I don't remember what they were used for, the repetitiousness of it numbed my brain), changing diapers (with three girls, someone needed to stay home for a few years), and the best one, slinging hash in our own little restaurant on a highway going to nowhere (after that, I never wanted to do anything but teach!).

I hated some of the jobs, but the unforgettable lessons I learned have carried me through life with an attitude that encouraged me to investigate and appreciate all forms of employment. The parents of some of the students I teach often need an understanding person to listen to them with a sympathetic ear. My philosophical stance says people can't be too kind.