Art Out: Road From Perdition

Call me Ishmael. You know my given name. Okay, I admit it. I needed a break from all the demands placed upon me by APS and LMU. I went AWOL! I was more than a bit tired of all the responsibility, drama, and the constant irritant of LMU assignments and due dates. I took a get-away trip to a charted tropical isle, Cozumel. I indulged myself. I immersed myself. Doing something I love, I embarked upon a self-contained, underwater breathing apparatus extravaganza. I scuba dive! The demands foisted upon me by those tasking institutions were unable to penetrate the deep blue, sun-illuminated turquoise and emerald green heaven-sent water. Certainly the cerveza kept me in the NO LMU mood. In addition to the sharks and eels that threatened my booty (my posterior), I was also captured and viciously attacked by the assignment pirate demanding intellectual booty (not my posterior).

I rendered to the Pirate Quarles the chest of treasure she required on the 15th of June and was released to scuba the next day. It seemed the Pirate Ship LMU stole from Melville as well, “From hell’s heart I stab at thee” was written across the darkened sea vessel’s bow. Yes, from over a thousand miles I was stabbed and blood was drawn. The sharks are circling. The blood drops into the sea stirring the man-eating monsters into a hungry frenzy. I begin to feel the cold raw fear of death. No more assignments! Please! The Pirate Dutton heartlessly requires me to walk the assignment plank. Banging on the deck with his blood-stained splintered peg-leg he shouts and points at me with his hooked appendage, “Complete the assignment by the 20th of June or you’ll be feeding the sharks for sure.” Arrrr, went the Pirate Dutton as he fed his stuffed parrot and changed his patch to the other eye. Soon all the pain and suffering required by the assignment pirates will be over and I can enjoy my booty (riches, not my posterior) and freedom from the pirate ship LMU. After July 21st I can sail away on the USS Irresponsibility. From hell’s heart no one will stab at me. I can enjoy the fruits of my labor. Call me Ishmael and read some Melville.

Scuba diving is a passion, a solidified dream, a rendered opportunity that took years to develop. Shields states, “All students must have the opportunity to graduate … with opportunities to follow their dreams.” I followed and achieved my underwater dream. Check out the photos and videos if you doubt me (http://joelglorvigen.smugmug.com/). I believe, as many others do, that this is the land of opportunity. Public education provides that opportunity. The problem is not that it’s not offered, the problem is that it’s not taken advantage of. Although the offering is not equal across country (an observable varying degree of quality exists among school systems), there is enough opportunity for anyone who desires to pursue their dreams. And dreams must be planted and cultivated. Possible futures plotted and mapped out for youngsters to follow. Fears overcome or dissolved. Yet how does a teacher bring success and achievement to those who desire not the opportunity offered?

Sonny’s story is a keystone example for educators to emulate. If teachers want to make a difference they must follow the Sonny exemplar, bringing personal care, contact, and encouragement to the achievement equation. Although I wasn’t a Sonny, I nonetheless was a termite of a kid, an unremarkable ignorant comic with doom and hard labor in my future. Some teachers cared and inspired me, motivating me to change and experience success. Others only described the terrible waters of perdition I found myself in without throwing me a life preserver. “Hey kid, don’t you know you’re drowning?” “Don’t you know how to swim?” “Stupid kid!” When you’re drowning the last thing you need is a lecture. I’m glad some were Good Samaritan Teachers who showed me the road from perdition.

Growing up in the heart of cranberry country in central Wisconsin didn’t exactly spawn scuba. It started gradually with exposure to the beach via family vacations, learning to swim, comfort with water, and Jacques Cousteau. Eventually, my journey took me snorkeling off Princess Margret beach on Bequia Island and years later snorkeling turned into scuba diving. My travels have given me experience and girth, richness not achieved with restrained views of the world or oneself. This exposure must be imparted to those within my purview. They might not have the family or the community, yet they have me. I can plant seeds and watch them grow. I see them as little caterpillars, without wings, crawling around on tiny legs wiggling their segmented worm bodies, possessing a myopic worldview. I do not know what kind of butterfly they will become or how colorful their wings will be. I do not want them caged in the ignorance of purgatory, unable to fly and see the world, pursuing their dreams. In order to assist children take advantage of educational opportunities and pursue their dreams teachers must develop as Shields puts it, “[an] absolute regard for the intrinsic worth of every individual.” Every child is worth rescuing. Every child needs a road from perdition paved by a Good Samaritan Educator.

A part of me is suspect when concepts and terms like “social justice” are used. As if someone owes another or is in debt to another because your father or mother or both were horrible parents. I guess the less fortunate must be bestowed with special access or monies because they are less fortunate. Part of me shuns this approach. One is free in this country to be poor and ignorant if one so chooses. And some choose ignorance and poverty because it’s an easier path. I overheard one radio personality say that we should punish poverty to remedy it. Wow. If a child is born into poverty they most likely have little ability to rescue themselves. Education is work and responsibility. These traits are not easily engrained into today’s youth. If mom and dad do not possess such qualities how can they impart them to their children? Ignorance is not foisted upon children by their teachers. Rather, teachers must foist knowledge into a child, holding the nose and forcing the bad tasting elixir down the throat of the patient. Part of me agrees with your principal associate you mentioned some months ago. The school motto read something like, “Creating an Opportunity to Learn.” Apparently you were there to give the State stamp of approval. You commented in class that it was an awful school philosophy. What would you have wanted it to say? “Forcing knowledge down the throat of your ungrateful little monster” or perhaps, “Educating the uneducable at taxpayers’ expense.” My fallen nature can muster more unkind themes, yet if I want to rescue little ones from perdition a higher road must be traveled. A road from perdition must be paved by the Good Samaritan Teacher if the student is to find a way out of the hellish world of ignorance and poverty they find themselves. I say rescue because that’s what it is, liberation … being set free. Set free from the doom that awaits them without the knowledge needed to succeed. These children say, “Rescue me” when they don’t know they are saying it. Some wouldn’t know how to take advantage of an opportunity to learn, no matter how vigorous the school fashioned a climate for such an endeavor. If you don’t know how to engage in the pursuit, what good is the opportunity? Such a school that created an opportunity to learn would not have rescued Sonny. And we need to rescue these children if we truly want to make a difference.

Shields suggests that this “rescue” would include a, “Just and caring education [that] addresses the needs, abilities, and the interests of all students by offering a range of programs … moreover, access is free and open to all students.” Sounds good to me yet what if the student doesn’t want that caring education? The Sonny example fits here. It cannot be shoved down the throat like the above mentioned elixir! Further on in the article Shields points out that, “educators must do whatever is necessary to provide all students with meaningful opportunities for participation and success.” A way must be forged to create hunger within the child so they develop the desire to learn. I would suggest that children must be “caught” before they can be “taught.” Sonny was caught. He was cared about and personal attention was rendered unto him. A road from perdition was forged by a caring person who happened to be a teacher, a Good Samaritan Teacher. Someone cared! He lived a life of quiet desperation and that desperate cry was answered! Halleluiah! Teachers must honestly care if they want to pave a way out of perdition. Our approach to children must not be as a worker approaches a widget, pushing and pulling until the desired outcome is achieved. Educating children cannot fit into the business paradigm. Children must be treated as the fragile little people they are; with feelings, cares, and concerns. Some are mistreated and find themselves in terrible places through no fault of their own, victims of circumstance to be sure. Albeit these youngsters can be monsters and termites, causing an educator to fill their adult diaper, yet children, like the rest of us, want to be valued. Children want to know they are loved and treasured. Once this is achieved a course toward knowledge and accomplishment can be plotted where their dreams can be pursued and realized. This is the road paved by the Good Samaritan Educator, a road from perdition.

I need to submit this critique before the Pirate Dutton makes me walk the plank. Call me Ishmael and don’t drink too much rum or cerveza when you read Melville! Arrr! Matey! The sea awaits me! Hold fast!