Mea Culpa

"See where your own energy wants to go, not where you think it should go. Do something because it feels right, not because it makes sense. Follow the spiritual impulse."
~ The Kitchen Mystic

It’s 3 am and rather than writing this focus paper response which was actually due last night, if one was to be fastidious about the whole thing, I’ve been diligently trolling through other MTC blogs, leap-frogging from cynic to optimist in one graceful but lethargic click of the index. Took about a half-hour break somewhere between civil rights steam-of-consciousness, poetry slams and sage words of wisdom from second years in order to pull something sharp out of my bare sole, swat a few small, black bugs to the side, and catch up on the world news for the first time in weeks. It appears we still have a planet, it’s still ruled (poorly) by ponderous primates, and I can bet my bottom dollar that the sun will come out tomorrow, again. Persistent, that sun is.

Probably not going to sleep tonight and probably shouldn’t be admitting to such since administrators with a head-shaking power of influence over me are watching from above with their green highlighters poised and ready to swipe. I stopped to smell the magnolias, jiminy! Don’t worry, tomorrow in class we’re on the letter Zzzzzz …

Did I really just write jiminy? Yea, you did.

I’ll let my inner dialogue segue into what I think I’ve indecisively decided that I may, or may not, want to write my focus paper on: the 21st-Century sedatives, soma (in pink, baby blue or mauve capsules), tranquilizing and stifling the spirit of a million children every day. Cigarettes and booze? That’s so 1900’s. We want their minds, not only their bodies, in this brave new world. Or should I say novel?

For the past several years, while irresponsibly and ungratefully sleep-walking my way through Williams, I’ve worked in a variety of capacities, switching caps from blue to red and back again, at a residential home for at-risk adolescents in Hancock, MA. Hillcrest Educational Center has several campuses in the Berkshires, housing 30-60 children, ranging from age 7-17, at each. I chose to work at the Intensive Treatment Unit, which never had more than 11 children at one time, and “specializes in the treatment of boys and girls with extreme psychiatric/psychotic, emotional and behavior disorders. Most ITU students have experienced physical, emotional and/or sexual abuse and have become severely aggressive, sexually reactive and self injurious. Most have been in psychiatric hospitals and/or have not succeeded in other residential settings due to the severity of their needs and behaviors. Many Center students have moderate to serious learning disabilities.”

But they were good, smart kids! Without giving a dissertation, because a lesson still needs to be planned before the sun comes up and I may even iron some spiffy new clothes for tomorrow, I found that these hopeless children trapped in the system were no different than myself, aside from circumstance. Could I do the things I was asking these distraught, scared, lost little boys and girls to do on a daily basis if I were in their shoes? I really don’t think so. Especially if I was being force-fed a cocktail of personality suppressing skittles three times a day like they are; drugs of names I can’t pronounce, origins I don’t want to know, and side-effects that nobody accurately understands. Their spark is all but burnt out, their innocence left in the womb, their faith in such an unfair world justifiably shattered. The cracks are growing wider and swallowing more than society can afford to lose. If you ask me, one is too much. But I’m sure by now you’ve clearly recognized the established idealistic motif of a naïve crusader (don’t worry, I’m still plenty selfish).

Yes, this is my response to a focus paper … ready? Now!

These pills we pop into the mouths of developing children, experimenting with their lives for profit, are a means of control. Society, the government, the maniacal minority; choose your semantic. Someone or something very large is responsible for this quieting of wills, assumedly free, slaying dragons and dreams to the applause of the paying public. It’s not just in residential care facilities across the country, but in public schools, in private schools, in kitchens and bathroom cupboards hiding behind white-picket fantasies and in the pockets of every demographic from you to me. Why are we afraid of ourselves? Take off the tethers, return to the pastures with the flock and wander from field to field at your own discretion.

I spent some time teaching and tutoring at the Montessori in Santa Cruz, CA, and this is what I like the most about their system: the implied freedom of academic pursuit, initiated by the individuals. The opposite of control. This arena of mutual respect empowers the child and instills priceless self-confidence. This puts the responsibility on the student for their own education. You can lead a horse to the edge of the fountain of knowledge, but that horse needs to read the words written in the water if he wants his thirst quenched. Teachers cannot drink for their students, but can hold the cup and refill it when empty. This “self-creating” process that JW discusses in her focus paper is a paradigm I’d like to attempt in my classroom. Education should not only be valued and desired, but fun. I’ll be there, choking myself with a tie, eagerly waiting to provide the resources and help when needed, and gently pushing that stubborn horse down the stairs. Investment comes quicker when it’s voluntary, providing a stimulating and encouraging environment exists. Practice patience as an administrator of education above all. By dragging reluctant or ‘slow’ students along with the strong majority current, you are turning them off from the passion of discovery and learning. By pushing them off the dock into the deep end, rather than letting them jump in themselves, or locking them in a unlit room to overcome their fear of the dark, you are not showing them that they are safe and that there is no reason to be afraid.

Montessori espoused her idea that “backwards children needed special education rather than medical treatment” Pills are a crutch - a cheap, Wal-Mart Sponge Bob band-aid covering a gaping psychological wound so that nobody happening by would get queasy at the sight of pain or discomfort. I am also in general agreement with her basic tenet that the best way to learn is to teach, hence the mentorship aspect of mixing grades/ages together. However, today the Montessori system has gotten far, far away from those in need. As always, those that can afford a private school tend to be those that need it the least.

All education is special, and most doesn’t happen inside of the classroom.

Forgive me if my tenses don’t match, my verbs don’t agree or my thoughts don’t sing hallelujah on your screen. My eyes are taking micro-naps in between thoughts, and at this point there is plenty of vacant space. Also, sorry if I became disjointed at the end, or started that way. The buzz of my fluorescent desk lamp is sounding a little bit like ‘Light My Fire’ and I think I dozed off after .... right, tomorrow’s lesson, the letter Zzzzzz ....