Those who are charged with working directly with "the client," the teachers and nurses, are grossly taken for granted, while school administrators and doctors steal the spoils. Fortunately for all of us, these positions are usually filled by people with great passion and love for what they do. A labor of love it is, to teach and influence children, and treat the sick. Thank you.
Plus, I've had some pretty good fantasies that involve teachers and nurses. Thank you for those, too.
I got off on a tangent.
The subject of this post is school. For whatever reason, I've been missing those days lately. When I was in school, I took the experience for granted and sort of wandered aimlessly through it. Don't get me wrong, I earned good grades and adequately prepared myself for the future. The part I miss most is the comaraderie, peripherals, the deep friendships... and just the aura of it all.
Remember walking the hall before school? Meeting your friends first thing and catching up, sneaking outside for a smoke before school or hanging in the band room? My routine involved the latter.
My friends Krent Thompson, Robert Estes, Troy Rogers and I would fire up our instruments, the trumpet, guitar, drums and keyboard... and jam. With the doors to the hall open, people would hear the music and come in. We'd play "Smoke on the Water," or some jazzy blues piece we had improvised on the fly. (there were other songs I don't remember, but those are trivial details) When our instrument cases opened, four young men would become consumed by a driving passion to create. To entertain. To open up. Good times.
And that's just one memory. If I were to continue, I could fill my entire blog with similar memoirs. Like most people, the most influential time of my life was spent in school. I'm not certain what has been triggering this recent nostalgia, but as I am writing this I've discovered that my old music teacher, Andy Anderson, teaches at a school about 10 miles from here.
I am emailing him in hopes of buying him a cup of coffee.
Nothing to do, Nellie Darling,
Oh, there's nothing to do, you say?
Let's take a trip
On the Memory Ship,
And sail back to the good old days.
Sail to the old village schoolhouse,
Anchor outside the school door,
Look in and see,
There's you and there's me,
A couple of kids once more.
School days, school days,
Dear old golden rule days.
Readin' and 'ritin' and 'rithmetic,
Taught to the tune of a hick'ry stick.
You were my queen in calico,
I was your bashful barefoot beau,
And you wrote on my slate,
'I love you, Joe,'
When we were a couple of kids.