You Won't Believe This

I would not want to live in a world without dragons, as I would not want to live in a world without magic, for that is a world without mystery, and that is a world without faith.”
― R.A. Salvatore, Streams of Silver

Okay. So my first and only experience a couple of months ago with special education in the schools was my very first day of subbing in a class that contained some profoundly disabled children, three who must be diapered, a child who intermittently screams and won't stop right away, several children who cannot speak and at least a couple of kids with severe autism. Just to give you a sample. There were 20 kids and one teacher with three aides. I was supposed to be the teacher that day, but the aides did the bulk of the caregiving. Yesterday, as I tentatively stepped into special ed at another school, the atmosphere was like night and day. There were about ten junior high school-aged kids, quiet, focused on their work and well behaved. I was pinching myself. The only other teacher was a young woman my daughter's age who is Native American. She wants to bring her sixteen-year-old son to Narrow Ridge. The two of us just clicked.

The kids were sweet natured and quiet, attending to their learning, reflecting the ability of their teacher who was out sick. But a really strange thing happened while I was subbing there. The kids were busy. I was sitting in one of those large faux leather chairs that the school system must have bought by the hundreds for their classroom teachers. I was as engaged as the children on making a study for a painting that has been commissioned. I used pencil, pen and colored pencils on notebook paper as seen here. All of a sudden, in a flash I was on the floor on my left side. It was just as if a force had taken hold of the chair and thrown it, and me, over. I wasn't hurt, but the other teacher was at first frightened and then flabbergasted. How did that happen she wanted to know. I don't know, I said. I was just sitting there quietly drawing. I wasn't even leaning to that side.

After my morning prayers yesterday, I said to myself, "This is going to be a wonderful day," not to reassure myself, but because something inside of me knew it. And it was exceptional. I am in such a creative explosion that after I finished the study and gave it to the teacher, I wrote a poem. In the middle of the day, she inexplicably asked, "Are you Buddhist?" Well, yes, I answered. What prompted you to ask me that? I don't know, she said. The day was full of inexplicable events.

Then I got home and someone (KUB?) had been at my house during the day and cut a long cord that went from a pole across the lane into my house, apparently the old phone line. And they left the line attached to my house and laid it across the grass. Why would anyone do that? Is it more interesting to live with the questions than with the answers which might be wrong? The day left me sitting with many questions...especially the one about how on earth that big chair and I landed on the floor when I was only sitting there.