Thought 23 - Nature Teaches
“Have you ever seen an unhappy flower?”
Reflection
I love school. I love being a student. I like to surround myself with paper and books and ideas to consider— to contemplate. I love libraries and reading. I love language and meanings. I love to center on a subject. I love to engage my mind. I love learning new things, and I do so regularly. I am happy in school. I am inspired by my teachers. Their commitment and knowledge lifts my soul, raises my vibes—school is my tribe.
The first day of first grade; however. I was disappointed. Where were the round tables of kindergarten? Were were the trays of crayons and markers and scissors? Why was the room so small? Where was the music corner and the building blocks? Why were the chairs in rows? We were seated in a line and could not interact. This clearly was not the tract for me. I felt nauseous. On the second day of first grade, when my mom pulled up to the school door to let me out, I would not get out of the car. Others were waiting. She had to park. She kept talking and telling me to go. She had to go to work. I did not budge. The teacher came out, and they chatted. The teacher decided to bring my class out and let them play around the car and maybe that would entice me to join them. I swallowed. And resolved in my mind to stay. I leaned back—heavy in my seat. They came out, and I became even more resolute: I would not get out of the car. I slid into the floorboard and weighted myself. Was my mom crying? I can’t remember. A friend of hers came by the car window and they chatted. She said I was cute and smiled at me. Her son was in my class and she was there dropping him off. She hoped we would be friends. She wished mom luck and went away. The teacher asked all of the other students to return to the classroom. And then she came for me. She opened the door and grabbed my arm. She pulled me out of the car. My body hit the pavement. I was a dead weight. She did not let go of my arm. She held it tighter and pulled me across the drive. She opened the heavy metal door and pulled me through the threshold which cut and scrapped my side. I tried to get away. She was so strong. I bit her wrist as hard as I could. Still she would not let go. She kept moving forward. Sliding now on the cool tiled floor. We were almost to the classroom. The first door on the right. It was closed. Within. I heard singing. I liked the song. I knew it from church, “This Little Light of Mine.” My heart opened a little, and I felt comforted. At least there was music within. My teacher asked me to stand up, and I did. She opened the door, and we went in. I took my seat. She settled into teaching, and I settled into the day. At lunch my friends asked me why I didn't;t get out of my car while they were playing? I shrugged my shoulders and said<“I didn’t like it here.” I looked at the teachers’ table. My teacher was showing her arm, her bite-mark, to the other teachers. I wondered if she knew about the scratches and cuts on my side? After that day though, I embraced the new rituals of school, even if they were far below the standards of the kitergarden I so much enjoyed.
Yes- even despite that drama — I love school. I loved getting my diploma from high school—I graduated with awards and honors. I moved on to college and graduate school. I have two Master’s degrees: one in divinity from Asbury Seminary in Kentucky and one in literature from Mercy College in New York. I also have several certifications. I am certified by the American Montessori Society, and in appropriate technologies. I am certified in nutrition through Cornell University and I also have a certification to teach in South Carolina public schools which I do now: I am a high school English teacher. I teach tenth grade English full time. In a few hours from now - I will leave for work.
But of all the classrooms that I have been in, and of all of the assemblies that have inspired me - Mother Earth is above all, superior.
My favorite classroom has no windows or doors. The sky is the ceiling. With the sun, and the clouds, and the far reaches of blue upon blue, I learn about numbers and time. The brambles and the ferns whisper my alphabet, and vines teach me about support. The trees explain to me how to be patient and to root deeply, and the creek sings to me of flow. The animals, all, show me the way- living the skills I need to survive and thrive in this world. Like the flower, I am. Grounded and growing, rooted and glowing—I receive light like the moonflower and give like the bounteous rose. All of me— present. Lifting in the open air, I am unhindered by thresholds, and rows, and rigid seats. My body moves and I learn through my senses. In the sunlight moonlight or starlight - in the classroom forever- I read and respond;I grow. Like the mockingbird, I sing all of the songs of my neighborhood. I know very well, I can see it, I can smell it, I can, touch and taste it, and I can hear it: this world, my beautiful, magical, mysterious Mother Earth has so much wisdom- she offers it to me ruddily - she speaks on every corner! - and so - I listen - I learn.
Centering Thought
I observe my beautiful world; I learn.
Questions
Are you inspired by nature?
Do you look to nature as a teacher?
What valuable lessons have you learned from Mother Earth?
Gratitude:
I am so thankful for this Earth. I am thankful for all that I have learned through my observations of the natural world. I am thankful for nature. I am thankful for all my lessons.
Blessings
Thank you for joining me today! I hope you have a beautiful day! Please leave a comment below. I would love to hear from you.