Jack takes us though more moments of awakening as he finishes up the school year.

“War is the supreme manifestation of human helplessness.“ J.G Bennett




Moments of Awakening Chapter Three




One of the problems we have in looking for Truth is seeing the difference between reality and actuality. If you look out your window, you can report the reality of what you see through your senses and your memory. If I look out the same window, I will report a different reality. But, there is the actuality, what is really there, and much of actuality cannot be recorded by the senses, the tree is made up of billions of atoms that are constantly interchanging with other atoms. Our senses don't record this actuality. The Truth is in the actuality not in the subjective reality that is mostly filtered through our lifetime conditioning.

“Don’t play around until you finish your work,” I tell Bengie who is scribbling on his friend’s test paper. And then don’t fool around either, you little brat, I tell myself. And then it strikes me; learning shouldn’t be the work we make of it. Learning must be play if we truly want to learn….

I really believe Krishnamurti’s contention that ‘You are the World.’ If I am the world then when a Palestinian is homeless and hungry it affects me. When an Israel is blown up by a suicide bomber, it affects me. When an illegal alien dies of thirst trying to sneak across the boarder, it affects me. If I am the world, then when I’m helping other people, I’m helping myself. When I’m hurting other people, I’m hurting myself. So, naturally, I want to do everything I can to help the people of the world, if I am the world. And, I am the world. You are the world….

The problem is how do you put this belief into practice? If we are one humanity, then there shouldn’t be any political borders. We should all be working for the good of everyone else. But, what can I do on a practical basis to put this idea into effect?

Man as he is both Muslim and Christian is asleep. Jesus recognized that man is asleep. For man asleep, the amount of education makes no difference. We are only educated in personality to adapt to the material world. All real spiritual teachers have taught that man is asleep, but can awaken with super effort. The effort we spend killing one another will in no way lead to awakening. We should each of us expend much more energy in trying to awaken from sleep.

Did you know that the Earth is not flat? I’ve been walking in the valley for the past some twenty years now, and I always saw the valley as being flat. You can see for miles and miles across the vegetable rows, over the vineyards, atop the almond orchards, and walnut trees all the way to the inner costal mountain range some sixty miles distance as the crow flies. A flat green surface that extends for miles and miles strikes your eyes both in the day and starry night. But, it’s not flat. The valley is not flat.

I discover that today as I walk along the canal that runs through the orchards. The irrigation system, for the most part, feeds on gravity. And when walking east, especially, you can see the gradual uphill slope. The valley slopes downhill in an almost imperceptible gradual grade. And, of course that makes sense even if you have studied a little geology. But, to see that downward slope after years of walking is a real awakening.

Today is the last time I’ll be subbing for this class of eighth grade algebra students. I’ve been in their room a couple times a month as their teacher is on the School Improvement Committee that meets twice a month. The no child left behind law mandates that every eighth grader has to take algebra. Some of these students can’t even, multiply and divide. The work is beyond their level of knowledge. They can’t do it. I know how hard it is because I’ve been teaching myself by going through the eighth grade book lesson by lesson. It ain’t easy. The kids that can’t do it, that have given up sit, do other work, write notes, or play get the substitute. I’m really strict with them, but they actually like me ‘cause I play around a little bit and even use to do a rap for them in the beginning of the year when I had more energy.

Anyhow, the last ten minutes of class is always the hardest time. The kids that can do the work are finishing up, the ones that can’t are bored to death. So, I spend the last ten minutes giving a lesson in higher consciousness. I call it a history of the sixties.

The first period kids are looking forward to my lecture today, so I start a few minutes early. “You know the most important thing I learned from the sixties is that there are two sides to man, the material and the spiritual. In school they teach to the material aspect. And that’s good. You have to support your body. You have to have a house, and if you decide to raise a family you have to support your mate and children. So, you have to find a way to support your self, the material side,” I tell them surprised a little at how they are paying such close attention.

“But there’s another side to man, to women. You are more than your body, your material self. You have a spiritual, and inner self that can connect you to the cosmos, to higher levels of being. This also has to develop. The spiritual aspect, or essence doesn’t grow by itself. You have to work super hard to develop it and help it grow…. Some religious teachers say that if you only develop your material side you miss the mark. That your life is meaningless….”

Dylan shakes his head no and raises his hand. “Just a minute,’ I tell him glancing at the clock and finding I have only a couple minutes left. “This is what I learned in the sixties. ‘Everything they tell you is a lie!’ Nobody knows what he or she is talking about. You have to go out and find it for yourself. The spiritual aspect of life is just as important as the material. And, to get in touch with your essence, you have to use an enormous amount of energy. You can’t do that now, because you waste too much energy. You have to begin to observe your self to see where the energy is leaking out….” I lecture and watch Mark turning his head from one arm to the other in a mock show of observing himself.

“Not observe your outer self as Mark is doing, but look at your total self. For instance, your negative emotions. This is one of the strongest forces in our lives, and no one ever sees that they are negative. You know what I mean; you come off with an attitude. I put your name on the board. Your get angry and shout out,’ What’s that for?’ I get angry and put a check by your name….”

I notice that Dylan is still waiting. “O.K. Dylan you had a question?”

“Yea, you said that your life is meaningless if you don’t reach a higher level. That’s not true . Your life can still have meaning. If you have a family and pass on your way of life through it….”

“Yea, you’re right Dylan. You can still live a good life without changing your level. That’s what’s called reaching the level of good housekeeper. You support your self and make a positive contribution to society. And, no one could reach a higher level if it wasn’t for this base of good intelligent workers. But, we were created to be more than just good housekeeper. Remember the model I gave you of a horse pulling your airplane? We don’t use ten percent of our potential. You can fly,” I tell them as the bell rings.

I give this basic lecture; of course it changes with each group of students, to all five periods of math. Even fourth period when I tell the kids that the last ten minutes of class will be my sixties lecture, and Jasmine calls out, “Why we have to listen to history. This a math class.”

“You don’t have to listen to history. Just do you math,” I snap at her. Fuck you, I tell myself. I don’t have to waste my time with them. Let them sit and stare at the walls all period for all I care. But, I am conscious of my anger and use it to enter my subject with the class.

“O.K. it’s time for history,” I tell the students glancing up at the clock. “If you’re still doing math keep working, but don’t talk. Nobody talk. I wasn’t going to give you guys this lesson, ‘cause Jasmine hurt my feelings when she said. ‘Why do we have to listen to history in a math class.’? I had an attack of negative emotions, but I saw them and didn’t go with the feeling. Remember what I told you last week. It is always your fault if you are angry. Even if you slap me in my face it is my fault if I get angry and hit you back. Maybe you had a good reason for hitting me. I should ask you why you slapped me. Maybe I have been doing something really stupid. If I am conscious of my anger, I can always control it. It is just that most times we are not conscious….”

“Some dude hit me, I’m gonna wack ‘em,” Marcus tells us.

“Of course you will. You’ve been conditioned to act that way and so have I. You’ve seen me get angry and yell at you guys. Being conscious of negative emotions is not easy, and remember, I’ve been working at it for thirty some years….”

“Yea, how old are you, Mr. Daley? I think my grandma had you for a teacher….”

We got off the track a little. And I didn’t have enough time to get the students really involved, but it was a great teaching experience for me. And the strange thing is that the students really enjoyed it. One student even asked me if I could suggest readings on the subject. This is one of the great joys of teaching, to see students looking with wide-open eyes taking in every word you say.

It’s Saturday morning. I’m sitting on my porch in this late May rain shower taking in the sounds of the valley; bird song, a killdeer calling across the almond orchard, a large black crow cawing from the top branches of the cedar, the wind working through the leaves of the tall poplars. Dark deep gray and black clouds roll from the inner coastal mountain range to Sierra Foothills.

Monday, I’m in the faculty room with my corn beef sandwich. Ben sits across from me. He’s rifling through a stack of tests papers. “Did you hear what went on at the meeting last night?” he asks in a low whisper.

“You mean the meeting with the state rep. for school Improvement?” I answer.

He slides around the table to my left hand side. “You wouldn’t believe those government shits. All the problems we have around the school and you know what they tell us? They say that some of the kids have been complaining about a certain teacher who drops his pencil so he can bend over to look up the girl’s dresses. They say he’s been doing this for the past ten years and nobody’s done anything about it….”

“What? The girl’s don’t even wear dresses…. What are they talking about?”

“That’s what I told them. The girls don’t even wear dresses. I asked them who the fuck do they think they are coming into our school and trying to ruin a man’s reputation. The guy they’re talking about is an outstanding teacher. He’s strict, and he doesn’t cut much slack, and he’s all the time apologizing to parents for the kid’s low grades, but he’s trying to get them to learn. These fucking idiots come in here…. They think in a couple days they can solve all our problems, make recommendations as to how we can improve. They don’t know shit. I was really pissed, man. I let them have it….”

“Yea, these guys haven’t been in a classroom in thirty years. They have no idea what’s going on.”

“The fucking head guy told the faculty he’d apologize for my interruption. I told him he’s not going to cut me off that fucking easy. I asked him what the fuck right he had coming in here and trying to ruin the reputation of a guy who knew more about teaching than he’d ever know….”

“Unbelievable….”

“Yea, but none of the other teachers would back me up. I walked out’a the fucking meeting though. Not one teacher followed,” Ben whispers.

“Well, if I’d’ a been there I would have followed, “ I say as the bell rings for fourth period.

I walk into Mr. Boswell’s classroom just as he goes into an asthma attack. The aide is trying to get the students to open their agendas. “Hey, Ms. Carson said to open your agendas. Let’s go,” I tell a couple eighth graders who are talking and fooling around. Jose turns around, puts his finger up for me to wait a minute and turns back to continue his conversation. I write his name on the board. Larry points to the board and snickers.

“Now what in the hell is that for?” Jose asks turning around to face me.

“That’s for fifteen minutes detention,” I tell him drawing a large check next to the name. “Would you like to try for support room?” I ask.

He shots me a dirty look and goes to his backpack for his agenda. Slamming the agenda on the desk he shots another angry look at me. I give him a hard stare, look across the room and see Mr. Boswell watching from his desk.

As the aide stamps the agendas I go back to Mr. Boswell’s s desk to see if he wants me to continue giving spelling tests. “Oh, could you do that?” he asks wiping his fore head with a damp hanky.

“Sure,” I answer picking up the list of levels from his desk.

“Oh, with Jose, I usually give him a warning first. Then I give him five minutes in time out…. He might go into time out if you ask him.”

“Yea, sure,” I answer. Returning to the front, I ask Jose if he wants to take five minutes in time out. He gives me a long look and looks up at the check by his name. I erase the check. He gathers up his agenda and books and walks to the time out chair. Mr. Boswell sets a timer for five minutes and sets it on the edge of his desk. After I administer several tests, it’s Jose’s turn. He comes to my table with a girl that tests at his level. At first, he’s still a little angry with me. But, as I give off several funny sentences for the spelling tests he begins to relax and is soon smiling. And, I realize that I’ve had a teaching lesson from Mr. Boswell.

The bell rings for sixth period. I’m working my prep for Jane, one of the female P.E. teachers. I hurry to the boy’s locker room to check with Mr. C. in case the fifth period sub left the plans with him. “Hey Mr. Daley. You better not be looking,” one of the boys jokes.

“I’ll keep my eyes shut,” I say and step into the coach’s office. Mr. C. hasn’t seen any lesson plans. He tells me that her class is meeting in the Café.

Damm, I tell myself wondering if the last sub could have left the plans next door.

I pause at the girl’s locker room door, and try to picture the interior. It seems to me that the door open right into the coach’s office. I turn the knob, and push open the door. A frightened young P. E. teacher leaps from her chair and shouts, “This is the Girl’s Locker Room!”

Backing my way out with one hand shielding my eyes, I ask, “You haven’t seen Jane’s lesson plans have you?”

“No, I have not!” she returns.

As I step back from the door, a six-grade girl spots me. “Mr. Daley just came out of the Girl’s Locker Room. Mr. Daley just came out of the Girl’s Locker Room. Nasty!!! Nasty!!!” She shouts running from group to group. I chase after the little girl and grab her by the shoulder.

“What are you doing? What are you doing?” I shout shaking her by the shoulders.

She breaks away and runs toward the office screaming at the top of her lungs, “Mr. Daley came out of the Girl’s Locker Room!!! Mr. Daley just came out of The Girl’s Locker Room. Nasty!!! Nasty!!!!”
I stand on stage in front of the
student body. The whole faculty is gathered behind me, teachers, administrators, custodians, the kitchen force, and even the front office suits. “Nasty!!!! Nasty!!!! Mr. Daley Came Out of The Girl’s Locker Room!!!! Nasty!!!! Nasty!!!!” the students scream at the top of their lungs.

Our district superintendent comes to the microphone. He raises his hand and the chanting stops. He calls me to the podium and asks if I have anything to say.

“I apologize. I should have knocked on the door. I never saw anything. I had my hand over my eyes,” I say in a pleading voice.

“NASTY!!!! NASTY!!!! NASTY!!!! Mr. Daley peeks at little girls!!!!” he shouts raising his hands above his head.

“ NASTY !!!! NASTY !!!! NASTY !!!!” the faculty begins to chant. “NASTY !!!! NASTY !!!! NASTY !!!!! The students come in picking up the rhythm.

I stand if front of the judge with bowed head. “Your honor, I don’t even think of biological sex at my age. I’ve directed my sex center towards the search for a higher level of consciousness….” I plead.

“What? Mr. Daley teaches Higher Levels of Consciousness? NASTY !!! NASTY !!!! NASTY !!!!” the judge screams.

“How do you find?” he asks the foreman of the jury.

“Guilty as charged,” the foreman states.

“NASTY !!!! NASTY !!!! NASTY !!!!” the judge tells me.

I stand at the entrance to hell. “NASTY !!!! NASTY !!!! NASTY !!!!!” the devil growls as he opens the gates and ushers me to a lower floor.

It’s a week later. I can’t believe that any teacher would give up his sick leave day for a minimum day when most of the eight graders are at Marine World, most seventh graders are at a school picnic and most six graders are out for a swim party. But, there are two subs ahead of me when I sign in at the front office. It’s a mixed up day and the principle’s secretary is not sure where I should go fifth and sixth period. She tells me to check with Jean, the teacher that’s running the seventh grade events. Jean asks if I want to help out at the picnic or cover an exclusion room. I tell her I think it’s better if the kids are with their regular teachers at the park and opt for the exclusion rooms.

My first two periods are regular classes for a Limited English seventh grade. The kids are watching The Hoosiers. It’s a DVD about an Indiana basketball town and the kids and coach who love the game. It’s a really good pick to show the students an important facet of American life. I really enjoy the flashback to rural 1950’s. But, the students are not at all interested. They sit quietly like they have been conditioned to do, but they are restless and waiting for the picnic activities. I let them talk quietly among themselves, and sign yearbooks. From time to time a few view the action, but they never really get into the story.

Third period, I go into an eighth grade exclusion room where the kids are watching Shriek. There is a little more interest here. For some reason, they have scheduled two teachers to be in the room with the eighth graders. The other teacher is talking to the second period teacher. The two of them continue to talk through the whole period. I’m thinking what a good example they set for the kids.

At lunch break, I finish reading an Atlantic Monthly article that shows how a Muslim American is given a life sentence In spite of the fact that he never committed any crime or broke any law. “You have to read this article,” I tell Speedo and explain how the guy was railroaded.

Speedo takes the magazine to make a copy of the article. “I almost got sent to prison myself for testifying for a prisoner that was charged with murdering a guard. The called me in as a character witness. I ‘d known the guy for half dozen years. It was a set up. The D.A. was totally corrupt. They didn’t ask me about his character, but asked questions that I knew nothing about. Then, they charged me with perjury. I had to hire my own lawyer. Cost me ten thousand dollars of my own money. The whole system is corrupt. The prosecutors lie, the defense attorneys lie. The whole system is based on lies….” Speedo tells me.

In the seventh grade exclusion room, I relieve the young P.E. teacher. The kids moan and complain when they see me, and ask Debbie if she will be back. She tells them she’ll me back next period. She lets me know that she’s already taken roll and points to the stack of referrals on the desk.

“Hey, dude, can I go to the bathroom,” one of the girls asks.

“No,” I tell her.

“Dude, it’s an emergency!” she returns.

“Too bad,” I tell her and walk to a one of the lab tables to take a cell phone away from one of the students.

“If I wet my pants, you’re gonna be sorry,” the first girl says.

“At least let me turn it off,” the second girl tells me.

I peek at the phone and see that she’s been playing a video game. “Put this in your backpack and don’t take it out again,” I tell her. At the next table a girl is putting eyebrow make up on her classmate. “Put the pencil in your backpack,” I tell her.

“Sit down!” I shout at a boy who gets out of his seat to imitate the cowardly lion.

I shot a glance at the screen and listen to Judy Garland sing, “We’re off to see the Wizard….”

Looking across the classroom, I see that not a single kid is watching the video. The girl with the eyebrow pencil is smearing lotion on her girl friend’s arm. “Put that away!” I yell at her. A boy at the next table is rubbing stick deodorant on the tabletop. “What are you doing?” I ask him.

“Huh?” he asks and returns the deodorant to his backpack. At the back table two of the boys are arm wrestling. I walk over to the table, and give them a mean look. They turn their heads toward the screen. “Can I go the restroom?” the boy with the deodorant asks as he runs his sticky hands across the tabletop.

“No,” I tell him.

“You gonna do a rap for us, dude?” asks the girl who had to go to the restroom but has forgotten her emergency.

“No,” I tell her.

“I wrote a rap, you wanna read it?” she asks.

A couple tables over two boys are fighting over a yearbook.

“Whose book is it?” I ask.

“It’s mine!” they both answer. Shane lets go of the book admitting that it belongs to the other boy. I glance at the clock and see that I still have twenty minutes to go. Walking from table to table around the lab I continue to put out the little squabbles that develop until the bell rings ending fourth period. When Debbie returns a couple minutes after the bell, the kids give off a loud cheer.

“Good bye old man,” the girl with the rap calls out.

“Glad to see that dude out of here,” says another kid.

“I’m surprised to see Shane’s still here,” Debbie tells me.

“Yea, I could have sent him and half dozen more out, but I figure they’re in enough trouble already,” I tell Debbie and return her smile. I am really pleasantly surprised that I feel no anger at the taunting seventh graders as they cheer at my exit.

Fifth period is in another science room. “Oh, no not him,” says a big seventh grader who looks old enough to be in high school.

“O.K. We’ll have no talking out. If you guys want to get out of here at twelve thirty, you better behave yourselves,” I tell them.

The teacher who I am relieving is in back of the room by the VCR sorting through several videos. “Mrs. B. gave me the most boring videos she could find. I’m not sure which is the most boring,” she tells me.

“Mrs. Harris has some pretty good science videos in her closet. I’ll have the kids pick one of them. I’m not trying to punish them with the video,” I tell her.

“Well, they should be punished. They’re all straight F students or they wouldn’t be excluded. They won’t learn anything no matter what you show them. You can lead a horse to water but you can’t make him drink it,” she tells me as she gathers up the videos and leaves.

I think of her old saying and remember and old saying that the Yardley boys use to say. Your ass is sucking whiskey bottles, I tell myself