"The idea of faith is a very large chunk to swallow when fear, doubt and anger abound in and around me. Sometimes just the idea of doing something different, something I am not accustomed to doing, can eventually become an act of faith if I do it regularly, and do it without debating whether it’s the right thing to do."

I couldn't help but feel my all-knowing, ever-present ego deflate a little but when I read this. That you have to just give up what you think you know, how you think things will or might end up for whatever will come down the chute. Or gristle and burn into view. I admit I am a person who begins to believe that the more things change, the more they stay the same. It's a cliche to be sure. I've been thinking about how many people I knew who were granted the option of starting their lives over or just trying it again. They make the turnaround and then they have the new subset of events and challenges that are presented to them with that change.

I'm afraid of slipping through the cracks. That panicky feeling you get when you get off the phone with someone who's told you they'll call you back later. But you know how busy things get. How certain items on a daily list get longer and wider, and sometimes things just get bumped to the bottom of the list, reserved for tomorrow. And you want to shake your fist at that. You want to be sent to the front of the line. You want to be given special consideration, and treated like a distinguished guest. You want a special invite tot he party. Think about it: the stars don't need to ask to be in the party, they get so many phone calls, they have to hire publicists. An agent to comb their hair for them, practice their speeches with. Part of you wants that- maybe partly because someone more or less hinted at that possibility- when you finish up with your student teaching, the schools will be calling you, your phone will ring off the hook.

But see all of this is just rabid justification to feel as jaded as you have in the past... it's the white lie that makes you feel comforted on the harder nights when you feel like the fallen athlete with his bum knee or the writer who just froze up one day and never managed to put a sentence together again, the doctor who let someone die on their watch. It's never really your fault, but somehow you can't help but think that there might have been something that you could have done about it. That you didn't play your cards well, and you're fault is that you didn't know you were on the clock. It's forgetting that this isn't a dress rehearsal. Not that you get only one chance at the deal when you're so far up, but no doubt, that is what you're afraid of. And that should you be defeated, you're fear is that your down for the count. JUst think of guys like Gary Hart, Richrd Gephardt, Bob Dole. So close to the dance, always in the mix somewhere but it just really isn't in the cards no matter which way they cut it.

But in perspective. How many teaching jobs are there in the country, in the world. It's a profession. They're a dime a dozen- around every corner, lurking in how many bushes whereas the president is a one time deal, two if you're among an elite bunch. And I understand that it's no easy job. Even so, I'm hungry for some real work, roll your sleeves up and get your hands dirty work. There's making money and establishing your ego and some folks are definitely cut out for that type of work. I don't think I ever will be, or so I've often told myself. I've been close enough to see the rat race and find that's there not many people who are truly happy with what they do throughout the day. Never the last man out of Mogadishu because they never leave their desk until the bell rings. Who am I to judge it? Except I don't think it's worth it in the end. And maybe you'd get one or two of them to tell the truth. Truth was always a grand prize when I was growing up. It seemed valiant to go after it. Honorable to move toward a point of entry with that on your tongue.
And it still does, if it's not entirely warped beyond its recognition. I'm hungry for more than just truth, folks. Not just truth but that sad, delapitated mess we like to point toward called the American Dream. Or the Dream of the Red Chamber. As Uncle Tupelo once said, "we're all looking for a life worth living." And that's a day-to-day testimony. I give myself any number of reasons why I think teaching is among the greatest, noble professions in this world, and I can't articulate how it has felt to be close to that dance, ready to engage and attempt to become a shaper, an adviser, an advocate, a marketer of whatever ideas we deem necessary to prepare children for this world. It's not like I'm breaking into heaven, even if I've at times felt like it might be the last door into that particular place... how dramatic. I can hear the squeaky door swinging to and fro...what a ruckus.