An Ordinary Day|
Copyright © 1997 Walt Zientek
"I got to spend a few minutes with a friend and collegue today.
She is usually "upstairs", teaching German and Honors English to
the beautiful, gifted children of intelligent and concerned parents.
I'm "downstairs", teaching everything to, (in these days of political
correctness) the Special Needs kids. Her's go on to run the world,
mine, to the periphary of your awareness. (But that is another story,
best left for another day.)
A special project gave us, and our students, some time together. She
spoke to me of her old Chocolate guy. At 13, he isn't doing very well.
Her story mirrored mine, less than two years past. Deafness, cataracts,
weakness and incontinence. Daughters who don't remember a time
without the dog. A family defined, at least in part, by it's relationship
with a dog. It was a story long on memories but painfully short on
After a while, I was aware that several students, from both groups
were watching us and wondering why this sweet and confident woman
and this big tough guy, were wiping errant tear drops from their faces.
I heard a boy, much tougher and streetwise than you or I will ever
be, say softly, "That's o.k. Mister's only talking dogs."
Are there lessons here about people and dogs and differences and
a common understanding? I'm sure there are, but I'm not bright or
articulate enough to sort them out.
Is there Poetry here? Probably not. Unless you are the kind of folks
who can feel the rhythm and hear the meter in the events of a very
Dedicated to Barb and Family