Bird Droppings March 18, 2025
It is in pondering the questions that understanding comes through

It has been an interesting start to spring, weather-wise. I have been battling allergies and sinus issues daily, exacerbated by the fluctuating weather, including both cold and hot temperatures, rain, and periods of drought, as well as pollen. When I headed out to take my sunrise photos today, I had been thinking about the many years of daily writing and journaling I had done to record my ideas and thoughts. Many times, as I have written over the past years, the word perception has come up. I addressed the idea of questioning the question yesterday, and I was thinking back one night as we were finishing many days ago, sitting and posting on a graduate discussion board on the internet. I was posting alongside friends and fellow graduate students, discussing critical race feminism, which ties together sex, race, culture, ethics, and, to some extent, education. The concept of perception was discussed numerous times. For many, this course of study is an opening of eyes that had been closed. Interestingly, discussing certain topics would be considered illegal in today’s political climate.

I am an observer by nature. In education or previously in industry, as I walk into someone else’s office, classroom, or study, I immediately peruse the books and items on shelves and desks. I see the papers, the order of items, or lack thereof, and amazingly, you can quickly make assumptions about that individual. In my case, if someone walked into my writing hovel, they would see animal books and magazines, as my oldest son also stacks various reading materials among my own. With extensive experience in theology and spiritual matters, as well as numerous translations of religious texts and Bibles. In stacks, there are many informational texts, arts and crafts books, herbs and gardening books, notes from graduate school, and psychology texts scattered among the piles and shelves.

An individual’s personality exists within the piles and various items or at least a perception of who they are. In my case, in a quick look, you would see several books, Spirit Dance by William Edelen, Red Pedagogy by Sandy Grande, The Passionate Teacher by Robert Fried, Celestine Prophecy by James Redfield, a book on Great Quotes, The purpose for your life by Carol Adrienne, The Handicapped child in the classroom, Ten Stupid things men do to mess up their life’s by Dr. Laura, A passion for excellence by Tom Peters, Control of Human Behavior, Safety and the Bottom line by Frank E. Bird Jr. It is these books that are on top of piles on my table and desk. I have always wondered if a psychological analysis could be made of me based on those texts sitting out, perhaps recent readings or reference sources. Something could be said; perhaps a perception, an opinion, or an assumption could be made about the person. Last night, a fellow educator posted that she had just bought her first Stephen King novel and a book on Revelation. So, numerous posts and notes later, it was most interesting to watch the responses.

“Except for the still point, there would be no dance ……. And there is only the dance.” William Edelen starts his book Spirit Dance with that line from T.S. Elliot

I sit thinking about that line. Do we have a still point? Last night, as I was reading comments on various blogs as fellow teachers and future teachers discussed their views and realities in discussion posts online and as we are trying to finish out the year working with students who are waiting for the last few minutes of the last day before summer break to complete work so much anxiety among educators. Perhaps this is just my perception. We are using the term ‘senioritis’ as we address the high school seniors who seem lost in oblivion as their final year draws to a close. It can be a teenager in the last thirty seconds of school or a graduate student in the last thirty seconds posting before the break. “And there is only the dance.”

I looked through my book of quotes, a small collection of quotes from my first year back teaching, containing poems from myself and others, as well as photos of student’s school activities, etc. – sort of a mini-yearbook filled with many coincidences. I found lyrics to a Garth Brooks song. The song is “The Dance,” written by Tony Arata, who, by chance, was my brother-in-law’s roommate in college at Georgia Southern many years ago.

“And now I’m glad I didn’t know how it would all end, the way it would all unfold.
Our lives are better left to chance. I could have missed the pain, but I’d have had to miss the dance.” Tony Arata

Considering the dance in relation to Elliot’s line and Arata’s line, it is about who we are inside and how we perceive the world. Often in life, we want to avoid problems. As I grow older, I find that it is the problems and tribulations that give us the pieces of who we are. It is all this history that gives us our outlook on life and our perception as we view the world. Returning to my graduate school posting discussion, as we learned that semester, everyone has a history, and it is within that history that we can gain a true understanding of who they are. Not really knowing a person’s history can alter your perception of them.

As I paged through the little book I had copied nearly twelve years ago, I found a note I had written. Evidently, this book was one of my students. The student had asked me to write a personal note, so I kept the book. However, when school was over, she never picked up her book, and I wrote a second note. As I look back, it brings a tear. It seems she quit school after failing the graduation test, found a new boyfriend or fiancée, and got married and pregnant, all in one fell swoop. Was this a success or a failure from a teaching standpoint? Did we reach the former child who is now a parent? I am sure some would say no. However, I have spoken with her since, and she is a happy mother who has obtained her GED and gone on to attend technical school.

It has been nearly forty-four years since I first started teaching. A few years ago, I had a professor who was ten years old in a public school in Macon, Georgia, when I moved to that town in the early 1970s. In the past, not all children with special needs were being served in public schools. IDEA legislation went into effect in 1974 but did not reach Georgia really till a few years later. One of my first jobs in education in Macon was working with the Child Find program. Thirty-nine years ago, there were no IEPs or mandatory education for all children. Many disabled students often just stayed home since there really was no place for them in the public schools at that time. We identified 278 children and adults who were not being served within 90 days or less. However, we were initially looking for only 50 to start our program, which was the maximum capacity for the building.
In those days, from 1970 to 1973, it wasn’t about curriculum, textbooks, or even lesson plans; it was simply about students who had never been served. In and among those students was a young black man who, by chance, had Down’s syndrome, Sammy Jones, 24. He was friendly, neat, and always adjusting his hair and checking his shirt to ensure it was tucked in, adjusting his belt, and making sure everything was just right. He would be a poster child for the correct dress code, always immaculate. Sammy would always somehow bring up “Big Momma,” as if he called his mother by that name.

I recall one day after we began our daily program, Sammy was at school. His excuse for not doing work was, “Big Momma said I don’t have to do that,” when he didn’t want to do something. I recall Sammy’s favorite class was nap time. We found Sammy through another program for children, Ms. Rawl’s Lucky Duck Nursery. As I reflect on my first days of teaching in Georgia, it has been some time since I last thought about Ms. Rawl’s and Lucky Duck, where my late brother, John, attended school when we first moved to Macon. It was all a matter of perception, perhaps, as it seems the promised school to get my father to move his business to Macon never materialized, and my brother became the token white boy in a black school. Macon in 1971 was still very racially separated, especially with disabled children. My brother John was “bussed” in, so to speak.

The amusing thing was that my mother, Ms. Rawls, and I ended up writing the federal grant that secured initial funding in Macon for children with disabilities. There was a significant clause: the schools had to integrate. A coincidence, perhaps, but as I think back and remember driving across town to that old school to pick up John at Lucky Duck, I realize he wasn’t a token child. He was a child at school, and every day, he would smile. Not once did John get upset about his school. I never remember my mother complaining about where he was going to school. I do remember Ms. Rawls and how much concern she had for John. Maybe our perception was different back then. As I reflect on my mother and my perception, I do not think ours changed significantly, but many others did.

“No one would have ever crossed the ocean if he could have gotten off in the storm,” Charles Kettering.

It takes getting across the sea to arrive at the other side when the storms get rough; quitting is not an option. Many people, when times are rough, choose to ride out the storm, but far too often, the waves and turmoil overwhelm them. It is about how we perceive and view the world around us in life. Yesterday, several of us were talking in the hall, and a student mentioned that she had paid $80 for a pair of jeans with numerous holes. Our discussion focused on how people are paid to make holes in jeans, which are then sold.

Perception: I have jeans with significant holes in them, each hole earned and remembered.

A wonderful day ahead, a quiet day, but in the turmoil and strife, please keep all in harm’s way on your mind and in your hearts. Especially today, as shootings, bombings, and such continue around the world, let us strive for peace. In my readings on Indian thought and spirituality, I came across a brief note on prayer. The Indian never prays for things but only to give thanks, and today, perhaps we should all give thanks for each moment of life we have and for those around us. Please keep all those in harm’s way in your mind and heart, and always give thanks. namaste.

My family and friends, I do not say this lightly,

Mitakuye Oyasin

(We are all related)

docbird