Life has slowed down a bit in Almorox. My thoughts have been centered on (well, at least before Sarah got here this week) what I actually came here to do: teaching. Or, more properly said, since I’m spending perhaps too much time paying attention to the teachers and children rather than jumping in with some incomprehensible English words, my thoughts have been centered on the life of children in their first stage of the civilizing process.
I’m not one to coddle memories. I have rather treated them with a Darwinian indifference, letting the fittest memories tear the weaker into shreds of color, sound, and scent. I worry though that if I allow this process to continue, my memories will evolve and develop sentience, and I will be at the mercy of their mnemonic pneumatic technology. So I am trying to adopt a more koombayah attitude towards my memories, letting their voices ring out, whether they crack or lilt, uniting in a medley of bored daydreaming. Which is to say that I have been thinking about childhood a lot, which I haven’t done much before.
The exuberance is what I notice. The ability to get whipped up into a communal excitement, to allow a laugh or excitement to roll over everything. And there is a complete vulnerability to this exuberance. They haven’t developed the ability to control it. Children know that they can lose recess if they talk too much, yet they seem virtually powerless to resist the contagion of excited chatting. This vulnerability means that teachers have to be drastic, so they can introduce a new overwhelming communal emotion that will result in some measure of control and calm. This can be as simple as a song about listening: one starts singing and soon they all are, and when they have finished the game has changed: now they have sung a song about silence and so they want to appreciate how silent they can be, and so they are. Or they must have something bad happen, like the apparent loss of recess. This horror instantly obliterates what preceded, leaving only bleak tragedy. Luckily for the teacher’s spirit, it’s not actually necessary to take recess away. Only five minutes of recess must be lost. The overwhelming horror is what is needed, and it is not a rationally calculated phenomenon. Children who lack self-control are not going to weigh the pros and cons of talking now versus losing recess. So actually punishing is not so necessary as evoking the subjective experience of dread. The pathos of childhood! Or the bathos of my mind? You decide!
That is one thing I have noticed. I am still thinking, and hope to write more about the life of babes. A thing: Seeing the older children laughing to show they weren't scared at our haunted house in the cafeteria on halloween while the younger children are so scared that they don't do anything, just open their eyes wide, and go dead-pan. An excellent exhibition of the change in one's orientation towards the world from 1st to 6th grade.
Anyway, Sarah is here now, and we are trying to balance our responsibilities, our enjoyment of Almorox, and our boredom of Almorox. It’s a tricky thing. We are off the Madrid this weekend to meet some friends we’ve made, so hopefully we’ll have a crazy time. Also maybe we’ll see an opera?
My view on the elections: too bad about the republicans winning, I guess. I am pretty unhappy with the Democrats, but their souls are at least less hideous than the republicans. Not that their souls are any less black, just prettier. Think polished ebony versus a bubbling waste treatment vat.
6 days ago
2 comments:
Exuberance, yes! I went to a Jazz concert the other day and watched two 4(?)year-old boys the entire time. They took off there shoes, danced around, rolled around, and made ridiculous faces to the music. It was wonderful. And quite a contrast to all of the adults in the audience who, at most, would chuckle a little at the most exciting points in the music.
I miss kids a lot! I propose that we switch jobs for a week or so, what do you say?
So Kam, I thought your political comment at the end might be an analog to the irrational exuberance-mature detachment dichotomy with the children in your school. Did I miss it?
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