Cleaning, Purging, Making a Mess

Matthew 6:19 Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth and rust doth corrupt, and where thieves break through and steal: 20 But lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal: 21 For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.

I finally found my clown bald head and nose. All crumbled up. I guess rubber does that. Like the old rubber bands that are also useless.

I'm purging. I don't need to save the checks from 1979 (although it may be amusing to see what it was like to live on $3000 a year and health insurance cost $300 a month.) I'm setting aside trash to throw away, paper to reuse, paper for recycling (to be stored in the car until the school year when paper waste is weighed for the school contest), file folders and binders... I've got a pile of things to pass on to other teachers- they are unlikely to use them, but I can't bear to toss them directly into the trash.

In my teaching heyday I had a room of file boxes. Each box had a number, in each box were numbered files. Then I had a spreadsheet with each file number/box number and the description of the contents. Then I could simply sort the tags to locate every file I had on, say, Japan, and I didn't have to sort the files, the computer did the work. I got up to box 51. I boiled it down to about 15 a few years ago. And then I lost the spread sheet. I'm going to get it down to 3 or 4 boxes and I'll make a new spread sheet. I'd like to say I'll get that done before the month is over.

I try to describe this system to other teachers when they complain about disorganization. But their eyes tend to glaze over with boredom. I should learn that some people would rather complain that learn solutions. Also that I tend to be boring.

I'm taking a trip down old tech memory lane. There are illustrations I made using stick on materials on light blue grid paper. I'll scan a few and post them here. I remember the fun I had at the art supply store. This was a few years before I had my first computer. And there are drawings on acetate for the overhead projector. I also found some folders on uses for computers for teachers. This from the days when it was work to convince teachers that they might find computers useful. Those teachers are now retired and a new generation has found other things to balk about. I found a 3.5 in disk with files from my Science Center job.

Reading a book of poetry

I have just finished reading a book of poetry by someone I was acquainted with. Finished is the wrong word because I'm not done with reading this book. The poet is married to someone I used to know pretty well and the poet knew a number of other people I knew pretty well. Although I can't say I can remember ever having a conversation with him. For the past few years I've been reading his essays on Facebook and on the website of the Public Radio station he works for.

I'm wondering if the North Country of New York State is a peculiar part of the world or if I just burrowed into that part of the world in a peculiar way. Potsdam NY is a college town, but so is the Eastern Shore town where I live now. It seems that the people I knew in Potsdam were brainy and eccentric in a way I don't run into here. But then I wonder if I'm just not looking right. I am pretty convinced that language is different in upstate New York ... I noticed this when I found a childhood upstate NY friend living nearby and the melodies and rhythms of her voice were familiar in a way that was special to me - in great contrast to the alien sounds of the local Maryland voices.

Reading this book of poetry sounds so much like the North Country to me. I can't tell if I'm reading good poetry because the voice is so evocative of a time and place in my experience. I wonder if someone who has not known the same people, who has not experienced the "mud season", or who has not experienced the small chilly waterfalls, streams and rivers can respond in the way I am responding.

I only lived up there for about nine years. I've lived longer than that where I live now. But I don't feel as much at home. Two more variables to consider: my age then and now, and the historical times then and now. I'm not as malleable now, and I'm less able to scramble into different geological and social terrains and landscapes. I was part of the beginning of a food coop there and the birth of a day care center. I don't have a husband and a child with me any more. In my twenties, they created openings I no longer have. Here I'm active in the original CSA, but my involvement is more isolated and I don't feel much connection to the local membership. Up north, I was also entering the world of academics and the world of 12-step recovery (and the world where they intersected). Now, although I'm still sober, I'm not so connected to "the rooms" locally. (See DFWallace for some great descriptions of the old time AA)

Back in the day, hippies were still around. I was among that group and our group hadn't thoroughly alienated others yet. Then computers were just starting to happen. I was eager to be involved with them, but had no inkling how my world would be so different.

Years ago, even before I'd moved to the North Country, I wrote and did not mail a letter to a famous writer. I proposed that I could read his stuff better than anyone else. I still have that feeling, as a gifted reader, from time to time. The volume of poetry I have just read, recalls that feeling for me.

As is so often the case with my bloggishness ... this needs more revision and careful thought.

Teaching dream

It's unusual for me to have a teaching dream at the beginning of summer vacation. This morning I dreamed that I was looking for a job in the city and I was given a class to cover. The previous teacher was also there. I had some ping pong balls and as I was drilling the class. I would throw a ball and the child who held the ball would answer. The previous teacher started leading the drill. One child insisted on sitting on his desk. I moved over to him with no results. I spoke to him. No result. He would not give me his name. I had some small cardstock diecut forms to make 3d shapes and I gave them out as reinforcements (rather than candy). I gave one to a student who was sitting properly nearby.

Then I woke up and thought "What a good idea!"

I woke up with some positive energy today. It had rained all night and now the sun is shining and there is a breeze moving the tree leaves outside my window. As I move around, packing the garbage to go outside and clearing the kitchen sink, my bursitis slows me down and makes me sit. I take my morning meds. I formalize my daily plans.

later.....


After a few hours of sorting stuff on my desk, I'm exhausted. I found a stack of greeting cards I saved since my car accident a few years ago. They are full of humor and concern and prayers from people I still have not thanked. Nor have I emulated their kindness by sending greetings to others. I am crushed by shame and self- condemnation. And it's getting hotter outside.