#8: Journal Notes on Subbing Assignment for 27 November 2007

I am not someone who enjoys shopping. I expect my favored stores to carry the products I need without forcing me to venture out into the alien turf of strange stores. When I moved to Michigan five years ago, after living in Southen California for 26 years, I found that what I missed most was neither the Pacific (it was amazing to live near but
Lake Michigan has always been my first love) nor the weather (I never got used to that much sun). What I missed most -- and still miss -- are the stores. For a wide supply of organic and other interesting foods, for example, I had Trader Joe's and Lassens. For fresh produce, I could find Farmers Markets (mostly organic) 7 days a week within a 20 miles radius (my favorite was in Ventura where sometimes a guy brought in fresh organic dates from the California deserts). For clothing, there was Santa Barbara's Tienda Ho -- just to walk in was to find oneself in a magical place, part Morocco, part India (that's where I bought silk patchwork tunics and scarves in all kinds of colors -- including the purple "swag" ones I mention in my entry for 11/9/07). For plants and fabulous Christmas tree trimmings, there was Ventura's Green Thumb. For great sales on unusual picture frames and matts, there was Aaron Brothers. For New Age books, oracle decks, rocks, votives, statues, and jewelry, there was Journey Home. For all my other needs, I had a short list of favored stores and rarely deviated from them.

In fairness, Michigan does have a few of my favored stores -- Pier One, Joann's, Michael's, and World Market. I have also found some new favorites, including two nurseries in Kalamazoo (Wedels and Romence Gardens) and my friend Mo's lovely Wren's Nest in Dowagiac. But for food, this place is very backward. Most large grocery stores carry little in the way of organic produce except the inevitable bags of carrots, celery, and greens (hopefully, without e. coli or other pathogens) from a region of California too close to runoff from huge industrial livestock farms. A few stores also have bags of kiwis, avacados, and potatoes; during the winter months this year, one major grocery chain, Meijer's, actually started carrying organic pears, which was a real treat. I often ask stores to provide more organic choices and always get strange looks. If one is too vocal about organics, many locals assume one is a tree-hugging, non-church-going, hippie-democrat weirdo. It's like being stuck in the 1950's.

I mention all this because in the week following Thanksgiving I knew heavy snows would soon be coming, which means I might be snowbound for weeks on end (it costs too much to have my long driveway plowed out every day or two after all the "lake effect" snow we get). I needed to get in two months worth of canned organic soups, diced tomatoes, bags of dried figs and apricots, organic soy (non-GMO) veggie burgers, a few dozen eggs from free-range chickens, and other staples. There is a large, upscale, pricey health food store in Kalamazoo about an hour away. There is also a smaller health food store in another direction only 35 minutes away. When I saw a subbing assignment in a Middle School near the 35 minute one, I grabbed it. I could earn some money AND get my supplies. Win-win.

It was my first half-day assignment, from 11:31am-2:42pm, and it was in Special Education, an area I had avoided since I have no expertise in it. But other subs had told me no special training was needed -- just patience with the kids. So I thought I would try it and see how it went.

The assignment was for November 27th, the Tuesday after Thanksgiving. The regular teacher was still there when I arrived -- she was warm and friendly as she explained her lesson plans and showed me colorful little plastic computer-calculators programmed with math assignments. I couldn't figure out how to make the gizmos work. "Don't worry," she smiled. "They all know how and help each other if anyone has a problem. They're really great kids." Then she left.

I took a deep breath and awaited my very first "special ed" class. The students arrived a moment later. My first surprise was that there were only two (both male). My second was that they were so gentle and curious.

This was a 7th grade English class and the boys' assignment was to write about the differences between our Thanksgiving celebration and the Pilgrims'. The boys mentioned some major differences in food, clothing, and housing. No Pilgrim watched football on TV nor did they spend the following day going Christmas shopping at the mall.

I added that the Pilgrims provided almost none of the food -- instead, they were the desperate recipients of food brought by kindly Native Americans. There were no frozen turkeys, fish, or hams -- any game had been freshly hunted, killed, dressed, and prepared only hours before. Nuts and cranberries had been gathered by hand. Nor was it an individual family gathering, as ours often are -- it involved the whole colony. Without the help of those hospitable Indians, many, if not all, in that small colony probably would not have survived. (Writing this, I am struck by the shift in focus: today, we think of Thanksgiving as a time to give thanks to a generous Creator -- but at that original feast, the most immediate focus must have been an overwhelming sense of gratitude to the native peoples who brought food to those frightened, weary strangers. Those native peoples, not the white man's God, were the ones deserving all the thanks. They were "have's," sharing their knowledge and bounty with "have-nots." How did we lose sight of the fact that it wasn't the white man's God who was responsible for the first Thanksgiving -- it was the red man's kindness. If only we had kept that focus, we would be a wiser, humbler, more humane nation today.)

The two boys started writing then. I helped with spelling and kept encouraging them. They were enjoying what they were doing and it showed. Twenty students was the average size of classes I had been with up until then. I honestly wasn't seeing that these two boys were any "slower" than most of the students in those larger classes! These two were certainly much more responsive. So just who were the ones in need of "special education"?

I have since subbed in quite a few "special ed" classes in a variety of schools and I'm seeing the same range of abilities there as in regular, mainstream classes. Maybe I'm missing some telltale diagnostic symtom but in general, and with a few notable exceptions, the "special ed" students are not only better motivated but also kinder to one another.

The class ended after 53 minutes and I said goodby to the boys. I could have happily spent the rest of the afternoon with them -- they were just the dearest little guys.

I then had a 25 minute lunch period followed by a 40 minute "prep" hour. I ate a tempeh sandwich I had made that morning and then spent the rest of the time wandering around the large classroom -- it had a homey, intimate feeling about it. There were small round tables scattered about, each with three or four chairs. There was a huge framed color photograph of a medieval Mediterreanean coastal town that took my breath away. I kept staring at it. I could almost have stepped into it, it seemed so real. I had asked the boys about it -- from its prominent position next to the blackboard, I assumed their teacher had often spoken about it, but the boys didn't know where it was. The room even had its own private bathroom and water dispenser -- what luxury!

I should mention that this was not an especially affluent area but it was a racially mixed and well educated one. There is a small, private Christian university there, which probably employs many of its people. I would need more information before I could argue that the presence of that university is a stronger factor in the education of the town's children than wealth. But it does make me wonder why major universities could not open branch campuses in those African-American communities where I had been subbing earlier in the month. Could part of the solution possibly be that simple? Probably not, but it might be worth a look.

Like many teachers, this one had posted her favorite "Sayings" around the room. One listed "Twenty Ways to Maintain a Healthy Level of Insanity." I loved it and regret that I didn't write them down. They were both humorous and sensible.

Another one, a quote from Albert Camus, I did write down:

In the midst of winter,
I finally learned
that there was in me
an invincible summer.

I resonate with that because I have been learning something similar from my subbing experiences.

At 1:48pm the last class of the day arrived for 6th grade math -- 5 students, one girl, 4 boys. Again, they were remarkable children. They helped one another -- the girl especially mothered the boys, who seemed younger than she. They quickly finished their math assignments and then turned to the room's computers, playing video games designed to increase hand-eye coordination. I watched them playing a game in which they had to thread a car through traffic jams -- any one of those children could have beaten me hands down.

The class ended at 2:36 pm and I said goodby to the five. Then I wrote their teacher a note telling her how much I had enjoyed her "gentle and curious" children. "If you ever need a sub again," I added, "please keep me in mind." Of course, I'll bet all her subs seek return engagements because her students are such a joy.

I turned off the lights, locked the door, signed out in the front office, and left the school. A mile away, as planned, I stocked up on all my organics at the local grocery, giving thanks in my own way for all the bounty, and then headed for home, feeling unusually relaxed and peaceful.

What would I do if I were in charge of this country? I would put *all* children into "special ed" classes of no more than 5-8 students (do-able as birth rates come down). I would establish small, specialized college-level schools within small towns across the country. To pay for nurturing such a sane educational system, I would close down all major military-industrial operations and shift the massive amounts of freed-up money not only to education but also to restoring our crumbling infrastructure and creating huge wind/solar/geothermal energy resources. Finally, I would give everyone a guaranteed, livable, annual income. Martin Luther King's various writings show brilliantly how and why this should be done (see, for example, A Testament of Hope: The Essential Writings of Martin Luther King, Jr., pages 247-248; 409-410; 615-617). I know the devil's in the details but it's time we start taking such ideas seriously -- for far too long, our nation's bounty has been misdirected to the grasping hands of the super rich, the super "have's." Unfortunately, most of them have shown themselves psychologically and ethically incapable of being responsible stewards of such bounty.

Thornton Wilder's Dolly Levi has it right. In his play, The Matchmaker (from which the film, Hello, Dolly was taken), she says to the rich, meanspirited merchant, Horace Vandergelder, "Horace, money's like manure -- it's not worth shit unless it's s-p-r-e-a-d around, helping young things grow."

It's time to start spreading it around, nurturing the precious, creative, life-giving "young thing" growth within each of us.