Dreaming

In the haze of that place between being awake and sleeping, I saw you heading for the door.

“You going out now?”

“Yeah, I’m going out.”

You were wearing a loose summer shirt, short sleeves, un-tucked, and pair of light-colored khakis. You had on that straw hat you don’t often wear, and were sporting a well-groomed beard. You looked just the way I like you to look.

I could see you talk to the native woman, the woman who always told us where to go and how to keep safe. You crossed the ravine and began walking along the field to meet to man who would take you to where the danger is.

It was only then that my fog cleared and I realized you where going without me. I leapt from the makeshift bed in the living room of our German hosts and ran out the door, still in my underwear and barefoot. The morning light was soft, the air still sweet from the cooler night.

I couldn’t remember why we came here, what we hoped we could accomplish, or why today I had stayed in bed. I could see you on the other side of the ravine, walking quickly so as not to be late. In my panic, I realized facing the danger with you was more important than self-preservation. I began running and calling your name, my voice hoarse from lack of use. I ran and ran, calling for you, your straw hat bobbing in the distance. My lower body covered in mud from the damp earth, my face just as wet from tears and screams. I began to gain on you. My calls finally reached your ears and you turned. Seeing me, you paused. I crossed the ravine, ran the few feet between us, and grabbed you in my arms.

“Never leave without saying goodbye,” I sobbed.

You held me at arms length and smiled.

Waiting

Each time I have to wait for a train to pass, I watch the windows of the compartments for my father’s face. I imagine that traveling by passenger train must be romantically pleasant—rich upholstered seats and walls (always in deep red), people dressed well in an “old world” sort of way, men reading newspapers, women flipping through literary magazines.

Most often, the trains look old and run down, graffitied and dirty. The passengers inside look even more run down—tired, weary from the day, the week, the month, the endless years of riding those trains and waiting. Waiting to get to where they’re going. In the morning, waiting to get to work, where they wait for the day’s end to wait for the trains to carry them home again. The expressionless faces at the windows expressing unconscious dreams that the interminable waiting were over, and yet not knowing what they would wait for if they believed they had a choice.

I wait too. Wait for the train to pass and the gates to rise so that I can continue on, and wait for something else. Each time I have to wait for a train to pass, I watch the windows of the compartments for my father’s face. My father has been dead for years now, and he never rode trains, but I never stop expecting that I’ll see him there, riding and waiting.

It Doesn't Pay, and Probably Never Has

Last Sunday (8 January 2006), the Dallas Morning News reported that nearly half of area high school football coaches are paid twice what teachers are paid. In some areas, coaches were paid 248% percent of the average teacher salary. Does anyone find this shocking? How can we honestly pay lip service to improving education in the United States when teachers are so utterly disregarded (and yes, I realize I’m taking a local situation and applying it to the entire nation, but sadly I believe the circumstances in the Dallas/Ft. Worth area are mirrored across the country).

Before I spend too much time screaming from my soap box, let me state for the record that I do support athletics in the public education system (as well as art, music, vocational training, and any number of other subjects outside of the usual list of academic subjects). I view these “non-academic” subjects as crucial, important, and perhaps even essential to the full development of students.

That disclaimer being made, let me get back to my rant—FOOTBALL COACHES BEING PAID MORE THAN TWICE WHAT TEACHERS ARE PAID. What is the rationale for this situation? I’ve heard all of the platitudes about non-intellectual skills that sports gives to individuals such as a healthy competitive spirit and teamwork (see my comments above about valuing athletics in the public education system). But football is one sport among many and
football coaches serve an extremely limited, all-male set of students.

Do our school districts pay coaches so well so that schools can have winning teams? But what good does that do other than school spirit (valuable, yes, but is it worth 248% what teachers make)? Football programs within the public education system don’t generate revenue for school districts like they do for colleges and universities—that isn’t and shouldn’t be their goal.

I’m tired of hearing how teachers are some of the most valuable and valued resources in our country. My response is “put your money where your mouth is!” Teaching is hard labor, and it continues to get harder. Low salaries are demoralizing and often impossible to live on. Meanwhile expectations keep rising while respect for teacher’s authority over curriculum and their classrooms dwindles. As a teacher of higher education, I am often shocked at the sense of entitlement my students have. I am shocked when parents phone me about their adult children and attempt to bully me into changing my policies and requirements. I cannot begin to fathom how much more difficult these situations are for primary and secondary-level teachers. The power now sits with students and parents, as well as administrators, not with the teachers. Is it any wonder that teaching as a profession is not appealing? What are the rewards? A personal glow of self-satisfaction only goes so far—it doesn’t pay a mortgage (if one is even accessible), it doesn’t pay for holidays to recover from burnout, it doesn’t pay for the pathetic excuse for health insurance that teachers get (at least in Texas), and it certainly doesn’t pay for sizable contributions to a personal IRA so that teachers can retire in comfort.

I realize that public education is a complicated and complex institution in the United States, and that it’s not simply a matter of raising teacher salaries. But this report is a slap in the face to every educator who gets up every morning to spend the day with other people’s children, who dedicates himself or herself to carefully planning and delivering lessons, who spends personal time outside of their work day writing curriculum and grading work, and who often spends portions of their meager incomes for books and other supplies needed to do their jobs successfully.