reflects snow-capped mountains
I shiver with anticipation
It’s Presidents Day here in the states, so I spent most of the day cross country skiing with Leslie and my daughter’s family. Turns out not all of the 40 pounds I lost in the last two months was fat. I was having trouble keeping up with my daugher who was carrying a 35 pound Gavin, which means I have a lot of conditioning in the next few weeks if I’m going to be backpacking this summer. But it felt great to get back to the mountains for the first time. I’m ready to go again this week, providing the rain backs off.
I would have had some great photos today if I hadn’t forgotten the digital camera that I recharged last night. There’s something about the first ski trip of the year; last year I left my raincoat home the first day, not a good thing in the Pacific Northwest. Still, it’s not as bad as the day I forgot my hiking boots on a trip and had to hike half way up Mt . Hood with my sandals. People looked at me a little wierdly, but I said if the Romans could conquer Europe with sandals I ought to be able to pull off a hike up Mt. Hood. Some people tell me this forgetfulness is a sign of old age, but I prefer that to being accused of being an absent-minded professor. Personally, I think forgetting little things is just a sign of trying to do more than most people.
I should have time for a short entry on Yeats tomorrow, then I’ll be back on schedule Wednesday when my daughter’s family leaves for home.
or maybe you can just blame it on the fact that Im slowly but surely feeling less depressed. Now that I have a plug in my tracheotomy I no longer violently expel bodily fluids out of my throat, I can talk without first fumbling to find the plug in my trach, and I can finally go out without breaking into violent, uncontrollable coughing spells.
So, I went out shopping for MacIntax, now absurdly called TurboTax for Mac, in order to see if my luck has finally changed and I am blessedly due a refund due to outrageous medical bills.
As I was driving by the Barnes and Noble bookstore I suddenly heard it call my name, loudly enough I could even hear it over Bruce Cockburns Mighty Trucks of Midnight. Perhaps it was those sirens of the sixties, Sexton and Plath, calling me onto the rocks of broken resolutions.
No, I told myself. I said I wouldnt buy another book until I had finished reading all the poetry books I have already bought but havent read yet, and, though Ive been reading poetry at an alarming rate recently, there are still books stacked everywhere, around my bedroom, next to my computer, and patiently in the bookshelf.
I almost managed to drive by, but suddenly a voice, an inner voice, I assume, appeared from nowhere, saying, Doest thou not remember how depressed thou werst when reading those demonic sisters? Surely thou must findeth new sources of inspiration or perish in darkest despair.
Darn right, I thought, as I swung the car into the B&N parking lot.
Now, anyone likely to read this blog probably realizes just how dangerous a bookstore is, with or without a Starbucks attached. By the way, do you really think a mocha latte will keep you awake through the dullest book?
At first I promised myself I would buy just one book, an anthology of modern, nay current, poetry to help me find new, uplifting poets. I found the very book, New American Poets of the 90s. What could be newer? Of course, as long as I was in front of the poetry section I had to browse a bit. Just to see what was new, of course. While browsing, two books of poetry by Margaret Atwood nearly leapt from the shelves into my arms, had to take them, no choice. Then I was struck by a hardbound copy of Alan Dugans Poems Seven. I buy paperbacks, but I love hardbounds, another must buy.
Afraid for my pocketbook, I nearly ran to the checkout stand.
$84.95?!! My gosh, Id better be feeling better. Im sure not going to die until Ive finished them, and considering it took me twenty years to get the books I just finished…
Reinventing yourself at my age is no easy task. One of the reasons I left teaching was because I was beginning to feel like a dinosaur and didnt want to change my values to fit those of another generation.
Now, one of the things I always liked about teaching was that I felt it kept me young. Constantly being around teenagers affects the way you see the world. If youre lucky, it keeps you plugged in to the positive changes going on in the world. If youre unlucky, it makes you view the world more and more pessimistically.
Fortunately, I liked most of the kids I taught over the years and sympathized with their viewpoint. Most of them seemed more positive and optimistic than the adults I knew. I enjoyed working with them, and they gave me hope that the world was becoming a better place.
Unfortunately, I began to lose that feeling the last few years I taught. Its not that I didnt like the kids just as much, I did. I even liked some of the kids whose attitudes I was no longer willing to adjust to and put up with.
More and more, students came to class with an attitude. They came with every intention of getting in the teachers face. Don’t misunderstand me, though, Im all for attitude. I have attitude and always have had. Having "attitude" helps you to stand up for what you believe in a world that often doesn’t give a damn what you believe and would gladly steamroll you into some mindless conformity. But having an attitude doesn’t mean you have to show it all the time.
I spent most of my grade school years fighting because I had an attitude. When I get angry, and thank God that doesnt happen very often, I have way more attitude than any sane man would want. I think I inherited it from my father who became an All-City tackle in Seattle by getting mad in games. Its probably not entirely irrelevant that my favorite comic character is Donald Duck whos famous for his outbursts.
As a teacher I enjoyed teasing kids and having them tease me back. It was often an easy way to defuse an emerging problem, and most kids thought it was fun to tease the teacher. Personally, I always thought school, and life in general, should have been a hell of a lot more fun than it was. After all, this was learning, not torture, and learning is what life is about. Isn’t it? So, why shouldn’t learning be fun?
But the last generation of kids I taught was different. They came in sounding like rappers, WWF clones, or spoiled athletes who think its cool to taunt their opponent. The simplest request was often met with belligerence, no matter how reasonable the request. Boy or girl, made no difference.
Sadly enough, I felt too old to adapt to this new style. I wasnt willing to put up with it, no matter how much I liked a kid. I knew that it was just a fad, part of the current culture, but I wasnt willing, or able, to adapt to the style, understand it or not.
Simply put, at some age it gets harder and harder to change your values and your ways of seeing the world. Im afraid Ive reached that age.