What did you imagine lies in wait anyway
at the end of a world whose sub-substance
is glaim, gleet, birdlime, slime, mucus, muck?
Yesterday we took over 160 high school students to Sandy Hook to see horseshoe crabs.
A few had never seen the ocean before.
A few dared let a fiddler crab tickle their palms.
A few touched a live striped bass, a yard long and just pulled from the ocean.
A few saw an osprey glide of the bay.
A few held comb jellies in a sea water puddle in their cupped hands.
One lost his flip flop to the muck.
I have no idea how much "biology" my lambs learn in the classroom. I suppose they learn as much as anyone else required to sit for the New Jersey EOC Biology Exam, and after 10 years of mandatory schooling, they're pretty good at taking tests about things they do not get (as no one does) to please folks they never met (as we all do).
I have no idea how to test what a child learns as his foot gets caught in the muck, a gray cloud now hiding his footprint, the sweet smell of life and death mingling in mud.
I do know this. The children were as alive as I have ever seen them. I suspect that many of them will carry vivid moments tucked between their amygdalas and their cortical gyri.
We are trained to keep the mulch and the muck hidden from the children, the classroom is safer (and much easier) that way. It was fun to teach real
I bet even Arne might get it if he spent some time mucking around....
Yep, same photo--I love it. Look at the twists and turns, decisions made
by a chilled tiny horseshoe crab on a late February morning.
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4 comments:
This line was especially pleasant:
"[A]fter 10 years of mandatory schooling, they're pretty good at taking tests about things they do not get (as no one does) to please folks they never met (as we all do)."
Took precious time from making my final exams and marking the mountain of papers to say so. Ain't you honored.
Hope you're well!
Dear CB,
Thanks for the words--I was just at your site now when my old brain finally made the connection.
I'm thinking local, parochial fool I am....
Schooliness is insidious. I need to keep fighting it. Your words help.
"We are trained to keep the mulch and the muck hidden from the children, the classroom is safer (and much easier) that way"
I'm not really sure why these words of yours set my mind a-buzz, but they did. You see, I'm a pre-service teacher (i.e., still an ignorant college schmuck), and being such, I'm filled with unfounded optimism about my prospects (quality of teaching, potential to find a job, etc.) and yet, am realistic enough to know that I shouldn't anticipate utopia. Regardless of what I think or might fantasize about my future, I feel like there should be muck and mulch, that students need to see it so that they know where we're coming from and how far we need to go. I understand the benefits of hiding it...it's sort of like brushing the dust and dirt under the rug until your folks are done with their surprise visit. But isn't the mess necessary for growth? Isn't it supposed to inspire rather than depress? Not saying that these are mutually exclusive reactions, but even so. I'm no professional, not yet, so I have my musings and nothing else. I suppose I would just like to know how you keep the "mulch and muck" out of the classroom and if you think it could be at least a little beneficial?
Dear Anonymous,
Oh, I'm the wrong one to ask about how to keep out the muck--I've got all kinds of things growing in class, in various states of youth and decay. If nothing else, kids see a few cycles of life buzzing before their eyes in the course of a school year. Heck, I brought in a bucket of dirt just two weeks ago.
As far as optimism, no need to apologize for it--I'm in my 4th year, and loving it more and more!
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