Know anyone happy right now? The strangest time in my life keeps degrading. I have plenty to eat, I`m sheltered and warm with good health insurance. By most measures I`m certainly lucky if not wealthy. Yet it`s hard to be positive as these waves of virus wash over the world taking millions before their time. We are asked to wear masks in public and get free vaccinations and a huge number of citizens wails at this injustice. In their refusal, the virus has time to mutate again. Will this go on and on and on? Sure looks that way to me now. A true fatalism is slowly taking root. This isn`t all bad. American workers have not been so powerful in years. The pandemic has shown us that, yes, life is indeed short. Why spend your life doing something you hate if there are alternatives? This is healthy. People have lost their patience however and that`s problematic.I have never heard of so many acts of aggression! Shoppers attacking cashiers, deadly acts of road rage, the murder rate skyrocketing, trains being looted and angry raucous behavior during school board and other civic meetings.
In blue northwest Oregon where I live, our county commission meeting had to be abruptly cancelled because of a violent mood in the audience last week. I heard of a doctor working with Covid patients being constantly abused by the unvaccinated patients accusing her of killing them because she won`t give them the unproven drug Ivermectin! And meanwhile health professionals by the score are leaving their fields. It is a terribly stressful era for healthcare workers. I`m married to one and hear about this constantly. At times it feels like our country is coming apart at the seams. How could this be happening? After all we`ve accomplished? Maybe I`m just depressed but I know many others are far more discouraged.
Backwater, the painting up above, seems to reflect my discomfort. The inspiration comes from the Minto Brown Island wetlands near Salem OR. Sloughs and ponds parallel this particular stretch of the Willamette River. I really love this place. Depending on the light though, it can look dormant and bleak in winter.
This city has never failed me and my students.
When I was at George Middle School someone cut the locks and stole several student's bikes from in front of the school while the kids sat in class. One of those stolen bikes was owned by the little brother of a past student of mine. The family had almost nothing but that morning he had been given a birthday gift... the bike that was stolen a few hours later.
I went on to a popular fundraising platform, the news showed up and a few days later the people of Portland bought every one of those kids a new bicycle.
When I travelled to Bangladesh to mentor the very first special education teachers in that country, the Portland Tribune ran a front page story. They put the link to that same popular fundraising site (different fundraising page though) and before you know it, Portland had stuffed so much money in my pockets, I was able to kit out two schools in great fashion! Each teacher got the equivalent of $200 to buy supplies (the dollar goes a LOOOOOOONG way in Bangladesh). At one school in one of the poorest areas of the entire planet, Portland paid to upgrade the lunch program for half a year of healthier bigger meals.
When my class hosted the special needs prom in the city, NPR showed up and showed the whole country our best practice (and it was the BEST! kids came from as far away as Salem and Ranier to celebrate their aging out of school at 21). I used to hand make every single girl a corsage. Portland stepped up, dropping ribbons and flowers off at our school. When my girls needed prom dresses Abbey's Closet stepped up and my girls got first choice of 7000 beautiful dresses.
And two nights ago, as I was freaking out about not having enough supplies to keep my students from sharing puzzles during covid, you all stepped up and kitted me out with enough puzzles that every kid will have their own bin with multiple activities I can swap out to teach new skills and higher learning. You all just came through for the kids who sit in my special needs classroom, at my special needs school, here in this incredibly special city of Portland.
I am not one of those teachers who feels unrecognized. This city has rewarded me in ways that very few people could have imagined. I was the first special education teacher to be Oregon's Teacher of the Year. My husband and I were the first gay couple to be honored by the Rose Festival and we rode through this city (on the back of a very slippery convertible) as you all cheered us on. At the time I was under orders if I said I was gay I would be fired but when the crowds heard them announce that riding with me was my husband, they went wild. When we got married The Oregonian had 45 pictures on their website. "Oregon's Teacher of the Year marries his long time partner" I believe, was the headline. They had a video tech follow us the whole day from buying our marriage certificate all the way to tying the knot. Though I was told I would be fired if I said I was in public, we took our vows on live television.
Soon after I was fired but I fought back and got my job back. The city of Portland did not take what happened to me sitting down. They overwhelmed my old school district with demands for my reinstatement, they threw out a bunch of the school board in the election that happened just weeks later, they continued to demand an apology even years later. After the Supreme Court, Portland got what they wanted. The district apologized. I accepted it whole heartedly. All of the people that did me wrong were fired, voted out, demoted or fled in shame and changed their names. The new admin is working hard to make the district the best it can be. The teachers, school nurses, the paraeducatiors and support staff at the district continue to be some of the finest people I have ever met in education.
And now, in these really dark covid times, I found myself struggling and once again, Portland (you all, this time), came roaring in to support me and my students. There is a reason I am a good teacher. It is because I live in a good city filled with good people. They always come through for me when my kids needs something.
I just wanted to say thank you. You all bought us books, art supplies, autism specialty items and so many wonderful puzzles. Several people from town are sending over lovingly-used puzzles. To know my students will not have to share anything with each other any more takes a huge stress out of my life. So, once again, you helped me and my staff by helping our kids. Thank you Portland. May you have a beautiful weekend and know that this city comes through when it needs to. We all can make that happen.
Brett Brigham is the teacher. Among his abilities and talents, he`s learned to ask for help. Why is that so difficult for most of us? People yearn to be constructive but don`t know how, where or when. Answering a specific request sure makes it easier.
6 comments:
Dear Randall,
You are not alone in feeling where has US gone… it’s not the country I grew up in, and I keep hoping we’ll get back on track living our best lives! I loved reading your story, just beautiful! You are doing so much good out in the world, and love you are the champion of special needs children. As an artist too I know how healing art can be. I’ve created puzzles from my art and would love to donate them to your kids. Keep going, there are many of us that feel as you do, and I always believe good will overcome evil! So just wanted to reach out here in CT
( sometimes you don’t know how far a reach you have😜) your words were so uplifting, and inspiring. Keep painting those beautiful paintings, I’m in awe of the mystery you create. All the best, Melanie Ferguson
Thanks so much Melanie but I think you are mistaking me for the special education teacher Brett Bigham. He is the man who wrote the letter of thanks to the people of Portland. I was so moved by his letter I asked him if I could print it. Teachers are the unsung heroes among us. When a reader comments on blogger, their email address does not attach. I would have written to you directly if I had been able. Thanks for reading my blog!
Good morning, Randall, I'm also appalled at the emotional outbursts of the unaware portion of the populace and the continuing verbal and physical violence ... everyone on the planet is suffering from untreated PTSD at this moment in the planet's evolution ... many of us had PTSD from other events in our lives prior to the continuing death and disease threat of covid, and now we all have PTSD from living with this constant threat -- and the isolation and continuous fear -- although this covid PTSD is not "post-traumatic stress syndrome", it is a current, continuing, ongoing trauma and stressor on every human being on this planet. It is no wonder that the most ungrounded of us are losing control of emotions and acting out. If you view it from this understanding, these outbursts are no less horrific, but much more understandable, and we are much more capable of compassion for both the victims and the perpetrators. This is such a test of all of us, we must do all we can to stay centered and grounded as this very challenging evolutionary process works its way across the planet.
Smiles, Randall, I'm happy you've found science fiction and urban fantasy as a sanctuary and relief. I was lucky enough to be introduced to the genres at a young age, and have found them welcoming retreats in the rougher parts of this long lifetime. I've been back into them these past two years, and glad you're exploring them. I'd also suggest Drew Hayes' Super Powereds series as 150 plus hours (on Audible audio books) of exquisite retreat.
Peace and light, Randall, remember to look upon this moment in the world as the perfect unfolding of a level of evolution so large and intense that it will only be fully understood in hindsight. Meanwhile, we stay grounded and centered and kind to all whose lives we touch, which is really the best way to live our lives, no matter what is happening.
Yes, it’s January. And yes, it’s another round of COVID. And it is dark and cold outside, and your husband and my sister work in healthcare, exposed, and these ruthless anti-vaxxers bring us on edge.
It’s not the first crisis in our lives. The earlier ones were more privat, we had to conquer them alone. They felt as substantial as this pandemic does, but there were no experts and no public advice about the problem daily, no politics that would focus on relief. Indeed, nobody cared.
But we made it!
Today I bought 4 pounds of those small pickling cucumbers for my very old, almost blind, and nearly deaf dad. We are going to ferment them into “Spreewalder Salzgurken”, a pickled cucumber he remembers from his childhood in Berlin.
Whether puzzles or pickles, let’s produce some smiles!
Randall, I enjoy reading your blog. I like your abstract very much and agree with the sentiment that intuition seems to make things go better than too much thinking.
Another tattoo artist to look at is @mowgli_artist on Instagram. I've never wanted a tattoo before, but I'd consider it if he was the artist!
Thanks for sharing your recent works and your thoughts. I, too, have lost myself in reading these days after receiving many books for Christmas and my January birthday :). It is easy to see the bad and the horrible all around - but I think what is happening is a change from the inside, or foundation. As you say, workers are saying Life’s too short to work a horrible job where I am disrespected every day. Unfortunately, many of those workers are teachers and healthcare workers. But we will come through this. For the most part, we are not selfish and we do things for others. Small things need to be noticed now: Yesterday we watched as sleet and freezing ice fell all day long (I have never seen that happen for so many hours, just solid sheets of ice but slushy in places). The neighbors across the street got out and shoveled their driveway while it was still coming down to get ahead of it somehow. Then they salted their drive and walkway and came over and did the same for us and the neighbor next door!! Out in the sleet and freezing rain with ice pellets gathering on their shoulders and hats and they both were out shoveing, salting and clearing off areas for neighbors! It made me smile and be so thankful that there are still people who think of others (I’m sure they think of us and the other neighbor as the oldest folks on the street who need some help). Little things, Randall. Look for the little things that happen to give your heart some nourishment. Huge hugs to you and John!
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