It is now 2207.

Now, THAT was a good ride. I put in the first set of the 4/30/77 show at the Palladium, and up they go just like that with a more-than-memorable performance of Music Never Stopped. Beautiful stuff. Then it is on to Bertha, then It’s All Over Now, and I ended my brief ride with the windows down with a good Deal.

It dawned on me while I was riding that I might have come across a little smug in uncut no. 3, when I was talking about my students, and how they’re going to need me to send them constant reminders to stay the straight and narrow to avoid the other straight and narrow (if you get me). I already revised it, but the point is this: they need to be armed, and they need to be ready to fight the good, hard battle.

We’ve all heard the story, haven’t we? When the victim, or the prey, begins to get a little wise to the ways, the predator gets desperate, nervous, offensive. We who have gone through this four-week experience know how desperate others may become, as such strength is often perceived as a threat to the status quo.

So, please, Gentle Reader, accept my apologies for that shortcoming in my previous post. I’ll try not to let it happen again.

Nearing 2216. The music never stops, but my energy slows a bit, and I will say goodnight for now. May the evening bring all of you cool comfort and happy mornings. . .

as always…………………………………rvw

it is now 2104.

No music plays, but the sounds of the fans swirl on all around me. They create a hum of noise that, for some reason, makes this heat just a little more bearable (as if it were ever bearable to begin with).

The seven-day forecast looks like some kind of sick cut-and-paste of today; it’s the same story over and over and over: Hot, Humid, 30-percent chance of severe thunderstorms, poor air quality, poor everything.

Depressing.

I find that I am spending more time in my car for the suspended relief, if but for a few extra minutes as I drift a little more slowly out of one red light, hoping that I might catch the next red and prolong my trip another blissfully spent 2 minutes.

Green to red, green to red. Exactly where i am.

I had an amazing day teaching grad school, though. My students/colleagues are seriously on the bus in this last week. They’re getting it. They’re seeing the bigger picture, and it’s exciting as anything to see them all jacked up for what possibilities may come in the classrooms in late August.

The reality, though, is that they’re going to be facing the toughest opposition of their lives amidst the myriad assessments and evaluations that have little to do with the individual child and everything to do with who gets to keep his or her job for another year. You see, after they’ve spent a month immersed in the theoretical and practical applications of the teaching of writing in the classroom, they are no longer ignorant to the evils of the assessment machine. In late August, when they return to their day-long meetings and updates (hope you had a fannnnnnn-tastic summer!), they’ll see the true, genuine ugliness of the education machine, and they’ll do one of three things:

1. They’ll give up and give in, certain that they are not strong enough to fight it;

2. They’ll allow the intensity of this summer to go quietly away, convinced that it’s all hogwash and nothing can beat the system (hey, it IS the system after all, right? And don’t you think they’d know what they’re doing by now for our kids, after all these years?).

3. They’ll fight the machine, fill themselves with all they’ve learned, put on their writing armor, and face it head on.

I’d like to think that the majory of my students will pull a number 3 out of the hat, but it’s going to take every bit of strength to overcome the sirens of conformity and do what our kids in the classroom really need. We’ll do our best to pass along some reminders from all of us at the University to keep them (and us!!!) on course, but they know that they’re the ones who have to hold on to the vision of what that fire to teach and to write is all about.
It’s so easy to get sucked into the machine, isn’t it? That’s why I’m writing now and not stopping. I’ve got to get back on the bus. I’ve got to sit back and let the wind blow through my hair without a worry in the world.

That’s it. I’m outta here. Time to take a little road trip to get a cup of coffee, windows down, the Dead blaring, dumping my thoughts to the wind like Dumbledore’s pensieve…

back real soon, now.

today is 16 July 2007, 0711

Good. Last night’s entry loosened the hold. Things are shaking up a little.

It’s a Tori Amos kind of day as the final week of teaching begins (This is not really happening…you bet your life it is). . . .

I listened to my fave version of Sugaree this morn, this from the 4/29/77 show at the Palladium. Those 14 minutes and 21 seconds can do wonders for my centering.

I feel slightly rushed as I get these words out before I switch gears a bit and focus entirely on this teaching day, but how important it is for me to do this: keep the writer ever-present, to keep the soul of me ever-present, as I go hours without the pen in my hand.

Later today, I’ll go back to yesterday where we did a bit of re-creation of the events on the day we buried our mother.

That, and the wonderful visit with my sister and my brother-in-law.

There’s much there, folks. And that uncut will be a long one.

here’s to my day (remember, I’m being selfish), and to all of your days as well. Let’s all do what we can to bring just a little more love into the world today….