Another minute and today's my Birthday
Yesterday I ranted about the school district. Today, I’m sad. I surveyed the students in my classes this morning, and only 5% of them found any -ANY-value in high school.
I’m sitting in a class where it’s obvious the teacher cares, who assigns assignments to encourage students to think about their subject matter. Seniors care a little, Juniors, too. Freshmen? They see high school as a complete waste of time. Maybe that’s just because they are, well, freshmen.
There are so many confounding variables.
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Just finished Fahrenheit 451, by Ray Bradbury.
What a read. I read it before. I was young and couldn’t completely comprehend the depth of his words. I know it impacted me, though. I read everything I could get my eyes on.
After finishing the book today, I became despondent. Have I done enough to be remembered? Have I become one of the people of the city who only wanted fun and to laugh (not bad things to want), live as shallowly as the people around me, only concerned with hair and appearances as well as nail polish, and the car they drive? Have I lost my depth of thought?
Am I a calamity howler? Do I still think too much?
I’m sickened that I don’t remember things. Events, thoughts, things I’ve read that I thought were important to know. I’m ashamed I don’t have a bucket of knowledge to ladle from in order to help others, especially my children, have a wise and good life.
I’ve lost the quote that shot me. A man’s grandfather died. He lamented not the loss of his grandfather the person so much, but the man’s things he did. “...he was a sculptor. He was also a very kind man who had a lot of love to give the world…made toys, did a million things in his lifetime, he was always busy with his hands. …when he died…he would never carve another piece of wood, or help us raise doves and pigeons in the backyard, or play the violin, or tell us jokes the way he did. …when he died…there was no one to do [the things] just the way he did.”
The grandson went on to say how his grandfather was important; “The world was bankrupt of ten million fine actions the night he passed on.”
The grandfather had said “Everyone must leave something behind when he dies. A child or a book or a painting or a house or a wall built or a pair of shoes made. Or a garden planted. Something your hand touched in some way so your soul has somewhere to go when you die/ And when people look at that tree or that flower you planted, you're there.”
It doesn’t matter what it is, as long as your work changes it into something different from what it was before you touched it. [paraphrased} It has to be something you have touched.
“Stuff your eyes with wonder. Live as if you’d drop dead in ten seconds. See the world. It’s more fantastic than any dream made of paid for in factories. Ask no guarantees, ask for no security, there never was such an animal and if there were, it would be related to the great sloth which hangs upside down in a tree all day every day, sleeping life away. To hell with that, shake the tree and knock the great sloth down on his ass.”
After reading this, I felt a total failure. It hit me so hard, I believe it is the basis for my continuing depression. What have I done for anyone? Do I have a legacy? I can’t find a positive slant to give this feeling. And it has to come from within. My friends can’t say, “Well, you’re good for [blah blah blah].
In my shallow head, I thought maybe I just wasn’t getting enough sleep. But I have, and I’ve been drinking enough water. These are two of my triggers, dehydration and lack of sleep.
Not sure what I will do with myself.
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