As a public school teacher in New Orleans, I rarely take the time to stop and look at my own trajectory. I’m sucked into the daily grind of students and lessons and other school-y stuff that I forget that I, too, am headed somewhere.
This morning I saw this awesome collection of images of Hidden Patterns of Birds and Insects by artist Dennis Hlynsky, and, even more than my fortune cookie last night, it has me thinking. Big.
Being a teacher is dangerous. Being a pack leader in an isolated room is falsely secure. To my own detriment, this strokes my ego, soothes my desire to direct, feeds my arrogance. Outside of the classroom I find that I suffer. So do others. My frustration with things I cannot control seeps out of my pores. It’s rancid.
The nature of the public school system is that it’s designed to oppress. We are forced to work within parameters that we cannot set or alter. The big picture is always so much bigger than the single teacher can see. My classroom is a small dot in a giant landscape. And sometimes the dot is blinding. All the things I cannot change, fix, master become a fist in my stomach. Unable to be digested. Keeping me from flight. Altering my own trajectory.