Bird Droppings February 13. 2026
When searching for our value in life, are we ever too old to keep teaching?

“When we can no longer change a situation, we are challenged to change ourselves.” Victor Frankl

I have been seeking a part-time position this year. I have interviewed, and granted, I can overwhelm some people. I received a couple of letters saying how impressed they were with my experience and my interviews, BUT we found someone we feel will be a better fit. I immediately think of old age. Who would hire a seventy-six-year-old curmudgeon? I was getting myself down, rationalizing whether I was of value in my existence. For the past several months, possibly even a year, Frankl’s quote has been my computer’s lock screen, and I have always adhered to it. The amount of money to be made from part-time teaching is nice, and lately I have been thinking about ways to cut back without cutting back. I stayed awake a few nights thinking and pondering all of this, fired up by recurring back pain.

Every morning, weather permitting, I hunt for sunrise pictures and other possible nature images. On most mornings, I am also talking with my wife as I drive around looking to take a photo or two. Today, as I went by one spot, I passed a dead animal on the road, and I drove over it; I did not hit it, but it did pass under my car. I told my wife it was a coyote, and that is what I saw. I doubled back to check, and it was a fawn, probably one I had seen grazing in this area on multiple occasions. I’m pretty sure I took a picture of it this past summer. As I drove around, I got to compare my mix-up with a fawn or coyote to politics. I read several memes just posted by former students. They never went past that initial image they saw to see what was real, and AI helps cause some of this. I am not arguing about AI at all, but about our perceptions.

The recent weather reminded me of a few years ago; nightly winter storms had come through, and our granddaughter had slept through them. My son’s dog was another story of waking up at the first crack of thunder.

As I write, I recall a memory, not considering what I know now, and too many details. I wish to keep that memory of a good discussion. About twenty years ago, a friend dropped by for a few days. The first time he had been back in this area for nearly three years. The idea of teaching as an art form was part of our previous discussions. We talked late into the evening on two nights. We talked about views on life and how, so often, I have, on occasion, seen things others have not. Wandering around, as I do, looking for pictures, often images others would pass up. In one of our breakfast discussions, we discussed intuition and empathy as crucial aspects of being a good teacher.

“It is the function of art to renew our perception. What we are familiar with, we cease to see. The writer shakes up the familiar scene, and, as if by magic, we see a new meaning in it.” Albert Einstein

Another topic was how, so often in life, we view daily happenings as mundane, yet miracles are happening in that moment of the mundane. Since we moved here, we have put in numerous flower beds in our backyard; in one bed, we have several ferns, angel trumpet plants, and several other flowering shrubs. However, one bed is unique; nearly every flower attracts hummingbirds. Coincidentally, we planted petunias around the edge last year, and I was pulling dead flowers off when I heard a loud humming buzzing sound. I was being dive-bombed by a hummingbird. My wife had me place a hummingbird feeder in the tree, which is centered on the bed. The hummingbird food kept disappearing, and I had just refilled it; it’s become one of my jobs to keep the feeders filled come summertime. It will not be long until they are back from Mexico, and as I look up, hearing the buzzing, I will see hummingbirds feeding directly beside me, and who knows, maybe this year I will get a good picture.

When I sit each morning and write about fireflies dancing across the edge of my world in my backyard or whippoorwills echoing through the dawn and dusk, I recognize the mundane in life. Should I not be hearing that they will still be calling, and should I not be watching the fireflies, will they still light the night? Darkness, my vision, and my perception still limit my view. I try to instill in my students the idea of looking past the images everyone else sees and finding what is theirs. I am saddened when a great idea and creative mind are silenced by peer pressure.

“The individual has always struggled to keep from being overwhelmed by the tribe. If you try it, you will be lonely often and sometimes frightened. But no price is too high to pay for the privilege of owning yourself.” Friedrich Nietzsche

For someone a thousand miles away, it is only words I write; yet I see it and experience it. For someone here nearby, unless they are willing to rise at 4:30 AM, they too will not see or hear what I see and hear. So, in effect, a writer offers glimpses of another experience, another world, to those willing to read. I offered as my friendship, and I talked; it is about renewing our perception and sharpening our senses to see, hear, and feel more than we do today.

“Any intelligent fool can make things bigger, more complex, and more violent. It takes a touch of genius — and a lot of courage — to move in the opposite direction.” Albert Einstein

Many considered Einstein an atheist for his often-blunt statements about religion. Yet if you read many of his nonscientific statements, you will find a spiritual aspect. He was an artist and a philosopher. Today is a day unlike most others I have spent with my friend, as we talk about many old thoughts and memories we discussed years ago. Sitting and reminiscing about his days in seminary, choosing to return to teaching, and how that impacted his life. There is an end and a beginning to every journey, and at one point, I even asked him if he was in the right place. Without blinking an eye, he responded that he had never been happier and knew this was where he was meant to be in his life journey, as I know I am where I am meant to be.

“We do not chart and measure the vast field of nature or express her wonders in the terms of science; on the contrary, we see miracles on every hand – the miracle of life in seed and egg, the miracle of death in a lightning flash, and the swelling deep.” Ohiyesa, Dr. Charles Eastman, Santee Sioux

Perhaps one day, I can sit idly as I started thinking a few moments ago and rock on my front porch, but not today. For now, I crave that thought process, questioning, and curiosity about learning and teaching. Whenever I drive through Kentucky, I cannot help but think of Daniel Boone finding his way through the wilderness, and yet, for the Native Americans of that place, it was home, not a wilderness. Even that day, trails and pathways were worn from the passage of moccasin feet.

“Education is what remains after one has forgotten everything he learned in school.” Albert Einstein

In a paper for graduate school a few years ago, I referenced my experience as a sort of clearing of a haze over things I had forgotten. It was as if things were clarifying from many years ago. Often, what is learned is from books and from experiencing, living, seeing, and believing. Each day, I travel a road many others have journeyed on, and many have succeeded in going beyond it. Yet it is new to me each day, for I choose to see more than the day before. For me, wilderness opens new trails that have not yet been approached by civilization. It is fresh and vibrant, even though many see only the mundane and stale.

It might be in the flight and blinking of a firefly, the snort of breath as a buffalo crossed the pasture years ago, or the call of a whippoorwill off in the trees. It may be in the feather left for me as a hawk soaring through the sky. I recall a movie where the start and end were nothing more than a piece of fluff blowing about until it gained importance with Forest Gump and was placed in a special place in his life. We do not know from moment to moment how someone will react to anything we say or write. I spoke with my friend about interconnections and how this is the art of our existence. It is in the perception, the seeing, feeling, and hearing of our heartbeat.

I ran into a former student yesterday. She moved and happened to be in our town, where I was at my favorite store, Kroger. She lives in another county and doesn’t get to Loganville very often. She just wanted to say hi and, in the conversation, asked what everyone wants to know about what I teach; it seems I have many students who just come by my room and are officially not in my classes. I told her that my door stated Period One – The philosophy of learning about how and why we learn what we do, Period Two – the same, Period Three planning, and Period Four again the same. She said that sounded interesting.

She wondered what I had taught for nearly three years and wanted to be in my class. I would always respond, “You haven’t been in enough trouble yet.” As she left after I explained Emotional and Behavioral Disorders, she said, “I learned a lot, even though I wasn’t in your regular classes except for Biology in summer school.” How is that for an ego boost? I read as I do and email my friend, pointing out several websites and books. Two passages caught my attention as I ended my writing today.

“Based on the belief that all human beings share the same divine nature, we have a very strong ground, a very powerful reason, to believe that each of us can develop a genuine sense of equanimity toward all beings.” His Holiness the Dalai Lama, “The Good Heart

“Strength-based in force is a strength people fear. Strength based on love is a strength people crave. It is as true today as it was then, and for nations as it is for individuals. Unfortunately, too few of each are listening.” Kent Nerburn

Nerburn addressed a friend’s comment about Vietnam and those of us old enough to have been drafted or served in that time of war. Looking at the news and politicians’ comments over the past few days, this passage from the Dalai Lama struck a chord with me. One of the things my friend and I did while he was here was to see each of my sons, since he had been involved in youth work and music. Of course, that included riding down to Georgia Tech and going for a campus tour in the Tech mascot, the Ramblin Wreck. Watching old videos and spending numerous hours catching up with my sons reminded me how significant today can be. Now I can end this morning of storms, which is another week ahead, so please keep all in harm’s way on your mind and your heart. Namaste.

My family and friends, I do not say this lightly,
Mitakuye Oyasin
(We are all related)
docbird