Sitting in the Corner

I have been putting off an essay about place that I need to write for remote 8th graders. I gave them the assignment and promised to do it, too - and to share the results.

But instead of beginning my essay with an observation from the Lee Metcalf National Wildlife Refuge, I’m sitting at a round table in a corner of Kate Naughter’s 6th grade ELA class. writing the first draft of this in my favorite kind of notebook - Moleskine - using an inexpensive fountain pen I bought online a few years ago.

Most of the students are writing, too, and Melford the turtle’s aquarium hums and whirs on the counter under the windows across the room. Two students near me can’t stop whispering, but others are writing, using pencils and paper. Every student has a school-issued chromebook and there is a constant push for the use of more digital tech. And I suppose that’s only appropriate, given our cultural moment, but I still crave the feel of a pen in my hand and the comfort of a good notebook.

This is a warm, bluebird day, and I could be sitting on one of the large rocks just outside the library doors, but this afternoon I settle into the familiar space of a classroom, open my notebook, and write, keeping my pen moving and the thoughts flowing.

* * * *

The Colorado county where I grew up has an Outdoor Lab School, where every sixth grader in the county spends a week at a school in the mountains west of Denver. My junior year I volunteered to be a counselor which meant staying in the cabins to supervise students and helping to teach during the day. This meant learning about the local geology (lots of granite), trees (mostly Ponderosa pines, with a sprinkling of aspen groves and junipers), and how to be in the woods safely.

By the end of that week, I new that I would become a teacher. And so I did: first as a high school English teacher after college, then college writing in graduate school, where I earned a PhD and, at the same time, realized I did not want to be a college professor - and being a college professor had been the sole reason for getting a PhD in the first place.

I began composing a list of things to do with a PhD in English. One thing: work for a litigation support company for nine soul-deadening years. Another possibility: quit the awful job and start substitute teaching. The latest thing: become a middle school librarian and discover where I belong in the educational scheme of things.

Which is to say, in the company of middle school kids, the age group that drew me to teaching in the first place. Which goes to show that even - maybe especially - PhD students can be slow learners. Which brings me to a room full of sixth graders in a small school in a small town in western Montana.

* * * *

Half way through my fifth grade year, my family moved to the mountains west of Evergreen. We had 10 acres of meadow and forested hillside, and I spent hours, both alone and with friends, exploring the small valley where we lived. That time has stayed with me, and no doubt contributed to my eagerness to be outside.

Still, I am always happy to come home at the end of a day - I’m a big fan of central heating and hot showers, and not so fond of biting bugs and, I have to admit, snakes, grizzly bears, or mountain lions. Don’t get me wrong: I want them all to be around, I just don’t want to spend any time in their company. Much as I sometimes wish it were otherwise, I am most comfortable with good books and a room full of middle school kids.