We’re all getting squirrely
Writing by treason on Friday, 22 of June , 2007 at 10:16 am
“They’ve Gone Squirrely!
That’s the terminology used by one teacher I was talking to about the ‘spring fever’ that takes over young minds and turns them into rabid creatures incapable of concentrating on work or studying or sitting down.”
– Mr. Lawrence at Get Lost, Mr. Chips
It never, ever f*cking changes. I did my student teaching during the Reagan administration and a few months teaching in the public school system was enough for me to abandon my “To Sir, With Love” fantasy and find another way to earn a living. Time has passed and occasionally I meet one of those exuberant, idealistic types who wants to teach. Poor things. They’re enrolled in some sort of education program, working towards certification, and already they’re getting a sense of what they’re in for. When people ask me why I’m not teaching for a living I explain that I don’t want to work in the public education system. But what about private schools, they ask. And charter schools. Aren’t those better?
Yes… some. But many things turned me off about teaching and one of them was the oft-repeated instruction: “Whatever you do, don’t ever, ever, under any circumstances, ever put your hands on the students.” Every teacher illustrated the point with the same story. Say a student of yours is falling out a window. Let him fall. It is better to let the student fall to his death than for you to try to save him and lose your credential because you put your hands him. Just let him die. Got it?
We exuberant, idealistic types heard this and thought the teachers were making some sort of joke. They weren’t. It seems shocking, but what’s more disturbing is that, twenty-five years later, I’m hearing the same thing from new teachers.
I admit it. I sometimes visit “edublogs.” That’s where I found the “squirrely” comment. Another thing that does not change. The master teacher at the high school where I was doing my student teaching described the kids that way. The blogger, “Mr. Lawrence,” makes it sounds like it’s just a spring fever thing. Oh, no, not at all. It’s so much more than that.
Students, children more precisely, are merely — and I don’t mean to sound like Tony Blair here — feral beasts. Watch animals before a storm or an earthquake. They’re little barometers of what’s to come. Walking down the halls of a school, you can sense it. You may hear a seasoned instructor mumble under her breath: “The students are getting squirrely.” Vaguely reminiscent of: “The natives are restless.” And that was rarely a good thing.
I was saying yesterday that the pundits are lining up to say the voters are angry. Favorability polls are nearing the single digits for Congress. People don’t much care for either the POTUS or the SCOTUS. We, they say, are just soooo angry. Sure, there’s that, but I think it’s something more. We’re squirrely.
I’ve got to go on a tangent here. When I think of squirrels, I think of many things, and one of those things is dogs. Whether it’s Millie Bush, stalking them on the White House lawn, or Jonah Goldberg’s adopted Cosmo, the “IT” Dog of the American Right, and his quest for the Jacobin variety, dogs and squirrels just go together. Cats and squirrels? I’m not so sure.
Just as we were building our collection of rare Westside squirrels, White Cat and Gray Cat appeared in our yard. The squirrels have relocated to avoid the cats. T heard them the other day, and it sounds like they’ve moved a few backyards away. But we did see one on the wall yesterday.
But I digress. Mainly because I’m putting off a confession. If voters are squirrely, it is because they are either disgusted or embarrassed by their party, and are looking for an alternative that still really does not exist. Some, like those new teachers, are still holding on to their exuberance and idealism, but just don’t have the energy to defend their politicians or make excuses for them anymore. But the energy is there, misdirected. This is prime time for candidates to take advantage of the voters’ squirreliness and help them direct that adrenalin. If they don’t, we squirrels will find something else to do with all this pent-up vitality, and it won’t be good for the two parties. We squirrels are sensing that something’s out there. We’re sniffing the air, and we know something’s coming. We don’t know what or when, but there’s a chance that whatever it is, it isn’t good. We’re edgy. Nervous. Feeling helpless. Want to do something. Need to prevent… oh, there it is again. Did you catch that? You can smell it. There – sniff.
My confession? I once became so disgusted by the Democrats that I soon became just as disgusted by the Republicans. I was, in a word, squirrely. I had to do something. I had the anger and the energy, but it was misdirected. Someone came along and harnessed the squirrel. I was given direction. I not only canvassed for, but I actually voted for, an Independent candidate… once. Again, it was at a time in my life when I was so disenchanted by both major parties that I became what I can only describe as an “anarchist.” Or, like I said, just real squirrely. That’s all I can say for now. It’s something about me that only a handful of people who know me knew about, and several of those are now dead. Those who survive probably don’t remember the indiscretion or even me. This is a secret that I could easily let die. But maybe Catholicism is in my genes – my mother being lapsed and all – so I feel I must confess and share the details. And I will. But another time.
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