School Daze

He sat in the back corner, undetected, though I’d seen him come in, late, avoiding being seen, or seeing anyone else, his eyes downcast, unseeing, even mine. And though my job demanded I call him out, require a pass to enter, well past the bell, the appointed time to begin, to be here, I didn’t, couldn’t, for there was no deliberateness in his lateness but to be avoided, to avoid us, us with our pens ready to write, minds open to take in knowledge without knowing, an education without trying, a letter in a grade book, a grade reported, the end but a GPA meaning little, if anything at all. This was not what he wanted, why he came, his goals perhaps loftier, something useful, mindful, well above what I could teach him, standing here, seeing him, late and downcast, his eyes fixed beyond us, beyond himself, beyond the walls and the windows holding us in, holding us back; him, too.

He was not what I had been, what we had been, my classmates in the days of our own youthful adventures, not seeing the likes of him in the back sneaking in late, downcast, unseeing, us with our hair long and blue jeans torn, worn out at the knees and seat, fitting in, trying to, a rumpledness about us then, conforming, though, perhaps in later days, a better fit, but not for him, not now, not later I suspect, his own rumpled appearance not a rebel’s cause, some act of striking out, striking back at a society that would not, could not, accept him, but a choice he made to be himself, in dress and attitude, in self assurance, dealing with his own life and choosing himself, conforming only by being here, physically in this room, this building, this institution called school, called education, a conformation to social demands of propriety, a usefulness, contributing, but to what even I was not sure of anymore, not then, not now, to society, perhaps to the status quo that we fought against and lost ourselves to, giving in, giving up, just youthful exuberance and energy to lose in growing older, growing up, becoming, yes becoming, adult, responsible citizens, contributing, perpetuating, clashing now with him, forgetting, having already forgotten our own exuberance and energy, our long hair and faded jeans, torn and worn at the knees and seat, our own rumpledness, fitting into the crowd, into the times, the times that were “a-changin’,” a-changin’ us.

Maybe I envied him, there at the back, downcast, avoiding me, avoiding us, quiet and going through the motions of this room, this school, this institution serving him no purpose, a GPA, a diploma even, not what he saw in his life, a vision of himself envisioned, as I had, too, sitting off to the side, on the fringes perhaps, doodling, wanting so much more than a grade I struggled to get, even as he struggled for what I collected from him and put together into some number, some letter, some mark in a grade-book, checking off the squares fulfilled, required by my profession, my job, by a job description demanding this of me and I complied, “doing” my job, an obligation, but to whom? to him? his parents, other parents, other adults, the traditions of this place, the neat little rows and reams of quizzes and tests and papers and projects, long tallies of grades reflecting compliance, a+b+c equaling an education, knowledge judged by mathematical formulas and computations adding up ... but adding up to what? My effectiveness, some mark to judge me standing here and not marking him late, demanding a pass, calling him out for his distraction to this process, hardly a good example of the way things are done, here in this place, this microcosm of how things are to be, will be when ... ? Or will they? Are they? ... For the times they are - still - a-changin’, a-changing’ him.

 But where is the wisdom to be imparted here, in this room, these four walls holding us together, in silence, listening and taking notes and tests and focusing on a grade, some GPA meaning little, perhaps even on an unimaginable future imagined, imagining ourselves there and me still wondering, too, and them, young and eager, seeing something else for their own lives, with their own lives, in a world they know so little of, blissfully ignorant and ready, as we all were, to make a change; and him, so unlike the rest complying, where does he see himself, forced to be here, to try and make sense of any of this in his mind full of music and visions and dreams for his own life, his own relevance where he is right now, in this place, in this time, arriving late and sneaking in the back to be unnoticed, succeeding because there was no harm done, no intent to be malicious, to cause a problem, but to avoid one; perhaps he is the wise one among us, full of wisdom, just as we were the wise ones of our generation growing up, before we conformed and slowed the world ever so much, enough to make us wonder now what might have happened, what might have been, what might have become of us, of “the man,” the “establishment,” and how much wiser we would be if we had dreamed our dreams, lived them out, been the wise ones for a world that needed us, as we now need him who came in late to my class, downcast and unseeing, this young man who would change our times, the times that are a-changin’, a-changin’ for us all.