I was given an invitation to wonder : Teachers Write/ Invitation to Wonder
When I read the prompt in the morning, I thought I wouldn’t get a chance to write until the evening so I would catalog all the things I naturally wondered about during the day. There were three.
- On my morning run, my friend pointed out the sun. The sun was in full circle. A bright orange with an iridescent glow on its face. This happened last week too. I remember when I saw it last week. I was in the car. I was stunned by the sun’s perfection, and while I was driving, I kept taking peeks at it as If I was capable of stealing its view and keeping it to myself. I wondered how the sun took its form that day? What made it glow? Why was I able to see it in its full glory? I had started creating a story in my head somehow attaching the sun’s beauty to the mystery of the universe and other worldly intervention. I was lost in my daydream stealing peeks and saddened when my course had turned away from the sun. Later that day, I hopped onto Facebook where people were discussing the sun, apparently I wasn’t the only one to see its majesty. One reader surmised that the city pollution had created this awe-inspiring reflection. I clicked out of Facebook. Yesterday, when my friend pointed out the sun, I saw it poised between a break in the trees and absently said “its beautiful.” At that brief moment, I did two things: I said “its beautiful” out of obligation, and I wished I had more time to view the sun in its original perfection before Facebook ruined it for me. I turned my head away. What made me do this? The answer is imbedded in the Facebook users post. My perfect sun was now jaded by pollution. I was disgusted with the user for ruining my perfect vision and a little disgusted with myself and how easily I take advantage of the earth.
- I must wonder a lot while I am driving. As my husband and I were on our way to dropping the kids off at swim lessons, I paid attention to the ash trees that litter the sides of our streets. I say litter because they are not pretty They have all been infected. An article I read last year said there was something like 1500 Ash trees in my town that have been diseased due to the Emerald Ash Borer. The town can’t afford to cut them all down at once so over the next couple years there is a firmly laid out plan for when they are coming to take down the trees. Our turn is summer 2016. Until then, I will have to see these trees. If you haven’t seen one close up, the Emerald Ash Borer lays eggs in the bark or under the bark, and then when the babies come out of their eggs they start eating under the belly of the bark serpentining across the bark in intricate little patterns. When I see the patterns, it is like nails on chalkboard or dry tissue getting wet, I can’t stand it, and I get the heebie jeebies all over. I have counted the trees that need to be taken care of on my street alone. There are 42. One strange thing about these trees is after they are infected the leaves of the trees fall off and never grow back. However small patches of little branches start sprouting just below the major branch lines and become lush around their bellies. This makes me curious. Is the tree dead? Should we really cut these trees down when they seem to be fighting hard to live? If we wait, really wait, would the lush branches eventually find their way up to the top? Note: Sometimes I view the tree from my kids eyes, and I think how fun it would be to weave my way through the serpentine maze.
- My third wonder of the day came while I was sitting with a friend waiting for our daughters to finish drama camp. She and I are both teachers and have been teaching for roughly 15 years. We were immersed in teacher talk sharing stories and ideas from our perspective schools. At some point we both mentioned the need for more, something new to excite or rock our worlds. I wondered what could that be?
