I think it was Thomas Wolfe (or Bon Jovi? or Mick Jagger?) who said you can't ever go home again.
I recently experienced this on a subbing job. Let me paint the picture for you.
In 3rd grade, I moved schools. At this new school, I met a dear friend Jennifer who 20 years later I still know. My love of art I believe started to bloom in this environment. These were magical times. I had some of the best teachers I can remember. I even sang in public! Twice!
So, of course, I was curious to see how this place had turned out and gladly took the assignment even though I had heard that it was now a "tough school."
First difference: They wear uniforms. When I was there, a boy named Eoin wore purple (yes purple) sweatpants for weeks.
Second difference: The teachers. They are meaner now. One teacher was borderline bullying a student. I nearly screamed. Plus during lunch, or at least my lunch, no one came into the staff room. At all.
Third difference: Everything is smaller. Now this is weird since I know I was shorter then but I don't think it was by too much.
This whole experience was very odd and I had those sort of silly notions of "Well in my day, we.." But are they really that silly? If a place or time was beautiful, made you happy and shaped who you are today, isn't it right to morn its loss a bit? And even if children are perhaps "tough" shouldn't we give them the option to change or soften? The culture of this school now is fear. I felt like Winston in 1984 searching for my Julia and hiding from the giant screen.
Friday, January 11, 2008
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
I haven't been back to any of my old schools in a while (especially in a teacher capacity) but I experienced something to your effect over Christmas break in my own family home. After being gone, turning 25, having some cash in my pocket, a job, and having to sleep in my old room at my parents house, I realized you can never go home again. I have gone off to school, studied abroad in Australia, been to Fiji, Chile, and Peru. But, I always could come home to my mom and dad. After this last trip home, I realized either too much has changed, or I have changed too much to actually "Stay" at "Home." Is it possible I have crossed that threshold where I only come over to visit and not to stay. I always wondered when that happens. I guess I'm becoming a real adult. And that, in my opinion, is kind of sad.
Post a Comment