QUESTIONS, CLASS. . . ?

Sometimes the greatest
SCHOOLING
You ever get
isn’t in a School at all. . .

A L L
500 Students from Clarksville Elementary School in Indiana worked with their music teacher over the course of the pandemic school year to create this heartstring pulling music video to showcase their talents and to bring a smile to your Monday Morning Face. . .

The exuberance and enthusiasm of these young singers remind us that they are not the future so much as the very much needed NOW. . .

They remind us that beyond WRITING READING ARITHMETIC there’s a SCHOOLING we all need
and more
NEED TO SHARE
CONSIDER YOURSELF SCHOOLED
TAG
YOUR IT
PASS IT ON. . .

We have forgotten how to be kids, huh?

Wouldn’t it be great

if there was a Charter School that

all adults

were mandated to attend

O  F  T  E  N

to learn how to be a kid again

or merely stay a child

or to dare be a child.          .          .

Kids would be teachers

and we’d all major in

R E C E S S

We’d learn their math
(That 1 + 1 = way more than two)

we’d learn their language

we’d learn their dream power

we’d learn their art techniques

we’d sing their kind of music

we’d have lunch time of ice-cream and cotton candy for a day

we’d major in mud puddle jumping

 J  U  S  T        B  E  C  A  U  S  E

 like Miss Emma

my colleague, Rachel’s daughter

who found pure joy

not by walking the zoo and seeing all of the animals

but finding a puddle shortly after a rain storm

and being ALLOWED by mom

to jump away happily.          .          .

ahhhhh.            .            .

to jump untethered in a mud puddle

or to go fishing in it and expect so much to catch fish

so much so

that you actually bring the tartar sauce along.        .        .

Pablo Picasso was right, wasn’t he:

“EVERYTHING  YOU  CAN  IMAGINE  IS  REAL; EVERY  CHILD  IS  AN  ARTIST, THE  PROBLEM  IS  HOW  TO  REMAIN  AN  ARTIST  ONCE  HE  GROWS  UP.”

This past weekend I became a child again.       .       .

but it was even more momentarily

than my several firsts go throughs.          .         .

We visited our daughter Zoe, our son-in-law Mark and our

granddaughter, Evey .        .        .

.          .          .literally moments before we were leaving

Eve forget to hold on to a coffee table and took

6-8 unassisted steps

HER  FIRSTS

and made us feel like we were taking our

First few steps.          .          .

my 62 year old heart

beat excitedly younger.          .          .

Some 12 hours later

a large part of our family gathered together

to celebrate my dad’s Birthday

We sang  HAPPY BIRTHDAY

ate cake, cupcakes, Birthday potluck foods

and celebrated that

L          I          F          E

is never made up from how many Candles are found on a Cake

so   much   as

M            O            M            E            N            T            S

.            .            .m   o   m   e   n   t   s

that aren’t defined by any age

so much as the endless child inside of us

desperately fighting to simply remain

a     c  h  i  l  d

reaching for a hand to hold

a dream to imagine

a song to sing

a  jingle  to  dance

a food to eat

a picture to create

and yes.          .          .

a puddle to jump into

again and again and again and.         .          .

Just in time to jump into a pile of leaves that begs never to be left alone

Life  is  filled  with

F     I     R     S     T           S     T     E     P     S

and D A N C I N G

our  A-B-C’ S

like TOMORROW

and YESTERDAY

is our forever

T   O   D   A  Y

and  that  our  best  creations 

are very next ones.          .          .

Now, that’s worth singing

H A P P Y     B I R T H D AY

with the loud refrain of

O N E     M O R E     T I M E 

]]> http://thecaringcatalyst.com/the-child-of-you/feed/ 0 2501 http://thecaringcatalyst.com/degraded/ http://thecaringcatalyst.com/degraded/#comments Fri, 07 Oct 2016 11:00:17 +0000 http://thecaringcatalyst.com/?p=453

Yeah.       .       .

I was   T H A T   kid.

I wasn’t very good in school.      .      .

I didn’t like it.       .       .

I don’t know if it much liked me, either.       .        .

I went there to play sports

and when sports went away,

I used it for a true means

to an   e  n  d.     .     .

I learned to beat it

M            O          R          E

than it beat me.

I learned to overcome it’s shame

and   D   E   G   R   A   D   I   N   G         G   R   A   D   E   S.       .       .

When I was in 6th grade we had just moved again;

It was the third school I had been in 6 years.      .      .

In retrospect.      .      .

it really made me the extrovert,

people-person I am today.       .       .

but it was tough,  t h e n.        .         .

Our teacher was Old School

in an    n e w   school.       .       .

She believed in motivating through humiliation;

When you took a test

she let everyone know what   S  C  O  R  E

they received by

Calling out your name

and putting your paper on the desk.      .      .

but just not any desk;

We had five rows of them.     .     .

She started by calling out the names

of all those who had received

F’s

by putting them on the row of desks in the fifth row;

D’s

were the Fourth Row;

C’s

right in the middle;

B’s

in the Second Row

and with drum roll anticipation

and great Pomp

T h e   A’s  

were reserved for   T H A T

First Row.     .     .

Yes, I can finally write about it now.       .       .

I landed not just in the Fifth Row,

but most of the time,

the last or next to the last seat in the Fifth Row.     .     .

H-U-M-L-L-I-A-T-E-D–N O T

m     o     t     i     v     a     t     e     d !

And then I found a way out:

E     X     T     R     A           C     R     E     D     I     T !

We walked to school,

which was a half of a block away

and went home for lunch.     .     .

I would hurry home

and eat lunch and then hurry back to school

so that I could grab the Encyclopedias

and come up with a 3-5 minute talk

about some interesting facts

of what we were studying in Geography;

I didn’t discover my voice.        .        .

I literally ascertained that my mouth,

the mouth that had been washed out several times with soap,

that got sent to bed countless times for

‘s  a  s  s  i  n  g,’

that mouth which could convince

my brothers and sister

out of their favorite Halloween or Easter candy,

belongs in a Circus—

all   T h r e e – R i n g s !

I did what everyone else hated to do:

T   a   l   k

 in front of the class room,

three days a week,

following our lunch break.      .      .

I’d tell them about the importing and exporting business

in Peru or Rio or Guam;

Told them about climates and what grew best in the soil;

What Winter’s or Fall’s were like;

I told them what the favorite hobbies

or past-time’s were in those locales and

I      K  E  P  T      F  A  I  L  I  N  G      T  E  S  T  S.         .        .

But I kept moving up Rows.     .     .

From the  F’s

to the  D’s

to the  C’s

to the  B’s

and finally.      .      .

I was sitting in the last seat of the

A’s   Row

because of a mouth that couldn’t be quieted or

D  E – G  R  A  D  E  D !

I remember one afternoon,

going in before school resumed

again after lunch

and working on another Extra Credit talk

while  S H E

was sitting at her desk grading papers

to a test we had just taken that morning;

“You found a way, didn’t you,”  she asked me?

I looked up from the Encyclopedia that I was reading,

getting ready for my next talk.     .     .

“Uhhh, ma’am.”

“You found a way of passing while failing, didn’t you?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Well, it’s a good thing, because this test you just took would have landed you back in the last seat of the Fourth Row.”

I didn’t say or do anything, because I couldn’t look away from her.

She smiled and said,

“Congratulations. Well done, Mr. Behrens. You have found a way out of the way and I believe it will serve you well.”

Hmmmmmmmmmmmm.      .      .

I haven’t stopped smiling—–

y  e  t.        .        .

or

T       A       L       K       I       N       G.        .        .