The Cicada Ladies were at it again this afternoon at a benefit for the local Refuge House. There sure were a lot of people there and it sure is a beautiful afternoon for it.We didn't stay too long. We watched our girls and lazed on the grass under the pine trees and I wanted so badly to lean over to Vergil and say, "Isn't she something? Do you realize? Do you?"
I didn't, though.
You're supposed to be cool in this world.
I forget that sometimes, how to be cool. All right. Most of the time.
I'm not very cool.
I tell my kids, "You're so gorgeous!" "You're so smart!" "You're so funny!" "God, I love you!"
All the damn time.
My husband, too. I tell him all those things. And also, "Thank-you." I tell him thank-you all the time. For washing the dishes and for being the man he is. Mostly for that.
I think that's what we're supposed to do. I think when we love someone we need to tell them. Fuck it if it's not cool. Just come out with it- bust out a big ol' I love you! even if it's not exactly appropriate. May and I were talking about this the other day. She said, "Why have the power of speech if not to use it to tell people you love them?"
I agreed and then said, "Or to tell them to kiss my ass."
Heh-heh. May and I share some sensibilities.
There were a lot of people I knew at the benefit this afternoon. I don't love most of them. I do like quite a few of them and there were hugs. Hugs are good. They show a level of affection but don't make promises. Well, it depends on how you hug, I suppose. I wasn't making many promises today, I'll tell you that.
However, I did tell a woman I saw that I love her. I meant it, too. She's the retiring principal of a high school that two of my kids went to and boy-oh-boy, I sure wish all my kids had gone to it. I was even president of the PTSO there one year which meant I had to put on a bra and be at a meeting at 7:45 in the morning once a month. Phew! But I did it because I love that school. Everyone there from the principal on across to the students and the teachers and the custodians and the security officer all go by their first names. Each kid and all of the staff gets an entire page in the yearbook. They can put on it whatever they want. Within reason. At graduation, every graduating senior asks one of the staff to come up and talk about them. Sometimes they ask the custodian to do it. Sometimes a favorite teacher. Sometimes the principal. Sometimes the security officer. Sometimes one of the office staff. There are a lot of tears.
And this woman I told that I loved today was one of the founding members of that school and she's kept her cool and kept that school going in the spirit in which it was intended for many years and I have no idea how many kids who would have gone down the cracks in a regular school found themselves there and thrived.
So when I said, "I love you," I surely did mean it.
One of the most amazing things this woman has done has been to somehow keep the county schoolboard on her side. This is not a private school. It's a public school.
Can you imagine? What would my life have been like if I'd gone to a school where we could have called our teachers by their first name? I'm pretty sure that in my high school, if you'd called a teacher by her first name, you'd get sent to the principal and believe me- you sure couldn't call him by his first name. He had a squad of no-necked goons who roamed the halls and checked to make sure the girls were all wearing bras and that their skirts weren't too short.
I'm not kidding. Not kidding at all. This was in the early seventies.
No wonder I hate bras- I'm still rebelling!
I'm sure there's a school of thought that if you let the students call the adults by their first names, they won't have the RESPECT they need to have.
This is false. They don't have the FEAR and thus, are free to learn. Another thing about this school is that it really does not matter if you're gay or straight or transgendered or Asbergerish or a bit thuggy-looking or whatever flavor of different you are. Those teachers have seen it all and all they care about is if you are interested in learning or not and if you aren't, they'll figure out a way to make it so you are. And it's a lot easier to go talk to the guidance counselor if you can call him "Lon" rather than Mr. Somebody.
It must work because those kids get some of the highest test scores in the county.
And yet, there are still parents who don't want to send their children there because it's the school where the "weird" kids go.
You bet! And where every sort of weird is accepted. If it's kindly weird, at least.
I think the bottom line is this- those teachers really care about those kids. Some of them have been teaching there for over thirty years. A lot of them are old hippies and some still have their long hair. Mostly the men.
When Jessie plays music it's not unusual at all for her old music teacher to show up at the gig with equipment he knows the girls will need. They all started out together at that school where the school band is a bluegrass band. That's the kind of school it is.
And this woman, Rosanne Wood, has gently steered this place since 1975.
So yes, I love her to pieces. And I told her that today and I didn't worry about being cool. Rosanne knows what real cool is because she's the queen of it.
I don't know who they're going to get to replace her. It's so hard to imagine anyone doing the same sort of job she's done but I'll tell you this- whoever eventually gets the job will have been put in place with input from everyone at the school. That's how they do it there. When they hire a new teacher, there's a committee and there are students on the committee and they get a vote after the interview.
This sounds so corny, but this school is a family. And once you're part of it, you always will be. And you know? I can tell when kids have been raised with this sort of sensibility- with respect and love rather than fear. They laugh easier, they're more adventuresome, they take on responsibility for themselves and don't wait around for the world to feed them what they need. They go out and find it.
They're cool, those kids. They don't beat up and threaten other kids because they're gay or different or they don't like their hair or their clothes. If they even THOUGHT about doing something like that, they'd be back in one of the regular schools calling their teachers by their last names and being another number in a great big system before they knew it. But I don't think the kids at SAIL think like that very much. They're too busy being who THEY are to worry about what anyone else is.
All right. I'm done. I guess this is a love-letter to Rosanne and to SAIL. A School For Arts and Innovative Learning. They've helped me raise my babies right and I am so grateful for that.
Here are a few picture from when Jessie was at SAIL:
Stephanie, Melissa and Jessie are all there and so is Tom, their music teacher. I love him too.
And here's Jess and Rosanne. Jessie was getting an award.That was before they'd moved to their new school, which they did a few years ago. One of the things Rosanne really made sure of was that there would be an outdoor area for awards' ceremonies and concerts and Freaky Fridays and school parties. And there is.
And isn't that cool?
I think so. And I may not BE cool, but I know it when I see it.
I love you...Ms. Moon
