The Moral Eel

I took one of my kids to the aquarium when she was tiny, and she really liked all of the animals. We saw Nemo, and Bruce, and Flipper. We were disappointed that there were no Ariels, though, and that took some explaining. Later we talked about which creature had the prettiest colors, and the biggest teeth and so on. When I asked her what was one creature she had never seen before, she instantly piped up: "The Moral Eel! It was really scary!"

I really liked that answer.

I've got a student right now who reminds me of this story. He came to me on Monday and said, "Hey, Ms. C., I need my work for the next two days."

"Oh?" I replied.

"Yeah--I've been suspended. It's not fair, either! I was helping Mr. Kite unload some stuff for the benefit auction, and there was some candy, and I took a candy bar after he left the room. It was just one piece! Everyone else did it! I don't think I should be suspended for two days for a piece of candy!"

I have to confess that I wasn't very sympathetic. Does the amount taken not make it stealing? If so, what is the magic cut-off amount that makes stealing okay? Does the fact that the candy was for a fundraiser change our evaluation of the situation, or that, at the root of it all, he was stealing from his own classmates and abusing the trust of his teacher? He affirmed that a) he knew he wasn't given permission to take some candy, and b) he knew that stealing is wrong. To me, if you violate the expectations of society, you take your chances with the punishment. I also recalled that this was not the first time the young man had been less than honest.

The moral eel is slippery. It looms up on the unsuspecting and its greatest asset is its stealthiness. It twists and finds the path of least resistance. I know some would say this young man is just a reflection of the society in which we live, where people talk about values but seem never to live them. Values are, after all, so terribly inconvenient when we're trying to satiate our desire for stuff and status. Or maybe we just want something, right now, like this young man, and feel entitled to it.

Living the Good Life

A friend of mine is getting ready to retire. He is looking forward to years and years of rising at his own schedule, the opportunity to travel, to dandle the grandchildren on his knee, and basically reap the reward of prudent investing so that he can be master of his own fate.

A superintendent I know has been on medical leave due to a very serious illness and is retiring at the end of the school year. Just a few short months ago, he was planning for his district's next state review and cheering on the football team, and then sudenly he was fighting for his life. He was planning many more years as an educational leader, being a relatively young man, and now he acknowledges that the twilight years will probably arrive far more quickly and be far briefer than he had originally planned.

Planning is at the center of a teacher's life. We are taught to plan lessons, units, assessments. We decide upon essential questions, objectives, and we sift and seine lesson material and information to help our students make sense of the subject. In particular, we are constatnly admonished to evaluate our use of time and emphasis to prepare for that overwhelming behemoth of modern public education known as "THE TEST."

But you know, really every day is "THE TEST," and there are things for which we cannot plan. As I consider the fact that none of us are promised even one more hour, I have to ask myself: "What if this were all that there ever was going to be in my life? Would I be satisfied with my life if I had nothing more than what I already have done thus far?" This is the test which I need to apply to each day.

And you know, I have to say that, yes, I would feel that my life had been worthwhile if I never get to that place where one gets to rest upon their laurels. I have a wonderful family. I have caring friends. I have a career that makes a difference in people's futures, in which I truly get to minister to young people and help them to discern the paths of their lives. It's often too difficult to feel a real sense of accomplishment in the teaching profession, because we never get to see a final product. People don't work that way. An education is a work in progress, and it does not end by spring testing or by graduation or even by dropping out. The lessons we impart and the information we give may not come to fruition in a students' life on our timetable. It may not seem to make a difference in time for the state test. But it may make a difference eventually.

And that IS the true test.

Out of the mouths of babes....

My 5-year-old was talking about his plans for the future (yes, I have a 5-year-old. I know Mike in Texas has a 21-year-old, whose grodiness quotient is off the scale, as you can see. I SO look forward to this vision of what awaits me. Thanks, Mike!).

Boy Child says that he is going to marry Zoe, he's going to have 6 kids, two of them twins, and that we will get to live with him forever. It is now in print in front of millions thousands hundreds dozens of you, my readers, so it's binding, right?

Then we asked him what he was going to be when he grew up-- an engineer? an astronaut? a teacher? a doctor? a musician?

He said, "I don't want a job. I want a life."

Wow. It's almost like he's a baby Buddha.