New Beginning

I am in New Mexico now. Land of Enchantment, Land of Entrapment. Land of Lotaburger and land of lot of nothing between point A and point wilderness.

I accepted a position at The International School of Mesa Del Sol, and I anxiously await becoming a part of their teaching community. The job search has quieted down, as has the house search. We'll be taking up residence in a beautiful old home in the near downtown area. Its a walk/bike to the things we'll need (Fruit Basket, public transit) and a walk/bike to the things we enjoy (the Marble, Buffalo Exchange, movie theaters).

I am now doing my best to figure out the educational scene here in Albuquerque. We have an American Federation of Teachers local that has strength but relatively small membership. We have charter schools popping up all over (as I am employed by one, I can't reasonably comment on the pros and cons yet). The schools performance sags behind most of the country, and test scores are grinding up very slowly here. As I join the ranks of the concerned public employees about the perceived problems and challenges to the students here, I am left with little to sink my teeth into journalistically. Who is reporting on how decisions are being made at the state and municipal level? I'm still trying to understand how to get in there and get some answers.

The locality is rewarding though, the small town concern for others is here. It is a beautiful place to smile back at someone, sun reflecting up off of worn, coppery cheeks. Faces round and speckled and splendid as the orange glowing Sandia Crest at sundown. Fierce pride runs as deep and strong as the mountain wells, and common annoyances are savored. Things are older here, preserved--spared from the rotting humidity that wiped clean the fertile grounds of Illinois. For there, life resurfaces with the multitude and speed of raindrops in a summer thunderstorm. A difference case out West, where life pushes hard, grows with excruciating slowness, and all the forthcoming flavors are richer for it.

The heat of the chile is all about the moisture, of course. Starved plants create giant fruit in their last gasp to reproduce. And many old, tired folks, in his and her last gasps, are up in the preservative heat, gathering dust. A joke or tale or temporary diversion the only interruption to their subtle de-animation. For here a slowness is celebratory, the lawyers all have tattoos and smoke weed, and somehow a new teacher will set down his furvor, and with a softness sing a song to coax belief out of someone young.