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Once again, as every year, I have to disassemble my classroom and
remove every bit of evidence that anyone was ever there. Nothing
will be left but the desks and chairs, the empty walls, and the lone
clock telling the time to nobody.
It is melancholy and a bit spooky to stand there in the bare room,
knowing you have just officially sent the whole year, and everything
that happened, forever into the past.
There are ghosts. Everyone who has been in a classroom leaves
something of himself or herself behind. This year will be particularly
poignant because it is my last. The ghosts will be numerous and
intense as I pause at the door to look back.
The regret I have is that former students will no longer have a place
to reach me. Some do come back to say hello and tell me their
memories, so I know it really happened, and I am reminded that
everyone also takes something of the classroom with them.
* * * * * * * *
Packing up a classroom is not unlike what happens when someone
dies. Since Sharon’s mother died a few weeks ago, we have been
busy stowing away the “classroom” that was her life. We save
pictures and other mementos in her honor, but her imprint on the
surroundings will be erased, like it never happened.
* * * * * * * *
If the “territory” of our lives is like a classroom, what do the walls
and the arrangements say about us? We decorate and display with
intention. What is the message? Conscious or not, there is an
ambiance in the space we create, even just by our presence. What
have we taught, and what have we learned? What do others take of
us when they go, and what do they leave behind of themselves? And
when the “semester” is over, what spirit of us goes, and what stays?
* * * * * * * *
I type the last stroke as the moon sets behind the mountain. Perfect.
In Reply to: School Spirit posted by Jim H. [1652.2562] on June 08, 2006 at 05:36:23:
You've left a mark on each person I am sure... each person has also left a mark on you. Even individuals you can't remember, or that fade away a bit into the mind..they are there. In you.
And you, in them.
The walls don't make the experience, they just give you a place to compartmentalize this in your mind.
In Reply to: School Spirit posted by Jim H. [1652.2562] on June 08, 2006 at 05:36:23:
oh good one, thx.
In Reply to: School Spirit posted by Jim H. [1652.2562] on June 08, 2006 at 05:36:23:
Why don't you write a reflective passage about your experiences and pin it to one of the walls? Then leave your e-mail address for people to keep in touch with you if they wish. Or how about youu setup a blog to share your deep and sensitive thoughts? You could write the website address on your note and people could check up on you and they will be able to reply directly to your daily entries.
Try Myspace, which is very popular with young people (link below), there are many others around if you don't like it.
In Reply to: School Spirit posted by Jim H. [1652.2562] on June 08, 2006 at 05:36:23:
Beautiful Jim, just beautiful.
I think your classroom is a metaphor for life. What's been given, what's been received is all part of your psyche now. Classroom or not, it's all part of your soul. It's food for your life's journey. It's kind of like energy -- the love, the pain, the information -- all this stuff is taken in, given out, and transfered here and there. Metaphysical intelligence, the universal mind, one way or another, it's shared by all...
Love and kisses in this next chapter of your life!
In Reply to: School Spirit posted by Jim H. [1652.2562] on June 08, 2006 at 05:36:23:
Hi Jim,
Thanks for the reflection. It reminded of my last months at work several years ago, when I decided to quit working and embarked on a mature student adventure. Knowing that I would be leaving the place, I moved mentally forwards and backwards in time, reliving the past events and anticipating the emptiness ahead. Many times, I sat at my desk looking out of the window, imagining myself gone, visualising that attic office frozen in an eternal empty space, where the only life would be a gentle window breeze. No people, no animals, no action. Just infinity.
Once I did this exercise over and over again. Suddenly I experienced a deep inner peace. I felt the passing nature of my existence on the planet, and I was at peace with it. Someone told me later that this is a typical Buddhists exercise... Now, I don't know. I certainly did not plan for any kind of a spiritual experience. After many years at the Office, I guess I tried to part with it, or rather take farewell with that part of me that was 'me at the Office'.
What a special time you are going through, retiring from your classroom. I don't know whether your presence will be felt as a 'ghost' - a kind of energetic imprint on the classroom walls - but I think that you will continue to live in the heads of your pupils, whose 'inner classroom' will still have your presence. You know, I have only read your thoughts and have never forgotten you; so I guess that the impression you make in real life is thoroughly lasting.
All the best for the future.
Sonja
In Reply to: Re: School Spirit posted by Michele [20.829] on June 08, 2006 at 08:46:18:
The walls are alive, Michelle. They are shape-shifters and mirrors,
and when starkly bare, especially, they draw our timeworn soul out
into our temporal hands for our hearts to see.
Booga Booga!
In Reply to: Re: School Spirit posted by cindy [136.4] on June 08, 2006 at 09:20:32:
thx for saying so, Cindy. May your ghosts be friendly.
In Reply to: Re: School Spirit posted by ukchris [1400.2732] on June 08, 2006 at 11:46:46:
Thanks, Chris. For now, Walt's wall is my wall. My email address is
jacksgrandpa@hotmail.com
I do intend to set up a website in my newly expanded time. I don't
know what form it will take. Who knows, maybe I will become a blog
dog.
In Reply to: Re: School Spirit posted by 2065 [2065.890] on June 08, 2006 at 14:05:43:
Thanks, 2065. You are a metaphor junkie too!
In Reply to: Re: School Spirit posted by Sonja [4406.2287] on June 09, 2006 at 00:24:55:
Beautiful! Thanks for that, Sonja.
The older I get, the "looser" time gets...and my place in it. Yes, I know
the breezy window, the waft of thin curtains…timeless.
I'm hoping for a "mature student adventure" too, what a marvelous
way to put it!
In Reply to: School Spirit posted by Jim H. [1652.2562] on June 08, 2006 at 05:36:23:
Thanks, Jim.
Inspirational as usual!
Namaste`
Walt
In Reply to: School Spirit posted by Jim H. [1652.2562] on June 08, 2006 at 05:36:23:
Thanks, Jim.
Inspirational as usual! How about expanding to the world with your wonderful talent?
Namaste`
Walt
In Reply to: Re: School Spirit posted by Walt Stoll [93.1889] on June 09, 2006 at 06:45:52:
Hi Jim,
Yes, listen to Walt's suggestion. Now you will have time to write...
Best wishes,
Jan
In Reply to: School Spirit posted by Jim H. [1652.2562] on June 08, 2006 at 05:36:23:
I'm glad I was never in your class, because you would probably want to hug and kiss me if you ever saw me on the street :)
Silver Fox!
In Reply to: Re: School Spirit posted by Jim H. [1652.2562] on June 09, 2006 at 05:53:11:
Yep, you got me pegged on that one!
In Reply to: Re: School Spirit posted by 2065 [2065.890] on June 10, 2006 at 03:39:14:
...you might want to check out a poem by William Cullen Bryant, called
Thanatopsis, the last few lines of which are (in contrast to Dylan
Thomas):
...So live, that when thy summons comes to join
The innumerable caravan, which moves
To that mysterious realm, where each shall take
His chamber in the silent halls of death,
Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night,
Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.
1921
In Reply to: BTW, 2065... posted by Jim H. [1652.2562] on June 10, 2006 at 09:11:42:
Thank you Jim, that is absolutely beautiful! What a comforting feeling to:
"but, sustained and soothed
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams."
I'll look up the poem a little later today, thanks for sharing it. It just goes to show you that there is than one way to enter the pearly gates. Either raving and raging or wrapped in the drapery of peaceful surrender...
In Reply to: Re: BTW, 2065... posted by 2065 [2065.890] on June 10, 2006 at 13:31:08:
"is more than one way" rather than "is than one way".
Jeeze, sometimes I miss words with the big print!
In Reply to: BTW, 2065... posted by Jim H. [1652.2562] on June 10, 2006 at 09:11:42:
Ok Master Scribe, I just finished reading Bryant's fabulous poem. It was stirring, thought provoking, sad, and comforting, all at once. It allows one to briefly glimpse the bigger picture, and our place in destiny. Below I listed my favorite verses, they are so nice, thanks again for telling me about this poem.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Earth, that nourished thee, shall claim Thy growth, to be resolved to earth again, And, lost each human trace, surrendering up Thine individual being, shalt thou go To mix forever with the elements, To be a brother to the insensible rock And to the sluggish clod, which the rude swain Turns with his share, and treads upon.
Yet not to thine eternal resting-place Shalt thou retire alone, nor couldst thou wish Couch more magnificent. Thou shalt lie down With patriarchs of the infant world—with kings, The powerful of the earth—the wise, the good, Fair forms, and hoary seers of ages past, All in one mighty sepulchre.
Old Ocean’s gray and melancholy waste,— Are but the solemn decorations all Of the great tomb of man.
The golden sun, The planets, all the infinite host of heaven, Are shining on the sad abodes of death Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom.
Take the wings Of morning, pierce the Barcan wilderness, Or lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound, Save his own dashings—yet the dead are there;
So shalt thou rest, and what if thou withdraw In silence from the living, and no friend Take note of thy departure? All that breathe Will share thy destiny.
So live, that when thy summons comes to join The innumerable caravan, which moves To that mysterious realm, where each shall take His chamber in the silent halls of death, Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night, Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.
In Reply to: School Spirit posted by Jim H. [1652.2562] on June 08, 2006 at 05:36:23:
Jim,
I can tell you the names of every single teacher I've ever had, the subjects they taught and things about their characters and I've been out of college for a long time. All students take away great pearls from all their good teachers and remember them well. The bad ones put them in reverse and demotivated them.
The irony is, regardless if you are a teacher or a student, the reality is you are always a student of life.
You sound like you are a great teacher that had wonderful classrooms. You are going to be blessed to see how well so many of your students do so well in their lives. You have help shape these miracles in the making and formed some of the key building blocks in their lives. I don't know what greater reward you can ever have.
There are many things in life we all love.
Towards that degree, our best teachers are never forgotton. We may not remember all the band we have seen or other student in an entire class. But our teachers are always with us forever and beyond. Thank you for your wisdom and beautiful perspective.
In Reply to: School Spirit posted by Jim H. [1652.2562] on June 08, 2006 at 05:36:23:
Jim, have you ever thought about writing for a local newspaper. Preferably a small one that would get mainly to where most of your students live? Like Chris said, somewhere to post your E address.
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