Peace and Jackrabbits

I write to you today as a civilian: not as a person of any particular authority or significance, but as a traveler; a little sister; a tourist and a guest; a consumer of sushi dinners, sunglasses and hopefully hiking boots. Today the only person’s schedule and productivity and overall well-being I have to worry about are my own. (It feels awesome, by the way.)

I went for a run down by the riverbed by my sister’s house in Tucson (because you can do these types of things in the middle of the day on a Monday when you’re on vacation in Arizona!)

I had to stop and have myself a little moment because of how beautiful it was there. I took my i-pod out of my ears because it seemed wrong to be piping in cymbals and drum machines and cheesy synthesizer workout music and covering up the actual beautiful real life that was going on around me… I stood for a good ten minutes looking up at the saguaros standing guard on the south side of “A” mountain, soaking in the vitamin D that I’d been so desperately craving, and listening to the sounds all around me: breeze rustling branches, birdsong, jackrabbits and little rodent and lizard-type things scurrying through the brush. There was a sense of stillness there that I haven’t experienced in a long while. I took a deep breath and thought, “Aaaaahhh…. Peace.”

I couldn’t help but notice the contrast with my usual surroundings in central Queens. Standing a continent away, more or less, from that other reality, rivers of people are replaced in my field of vision by an actual river. Gone is the intermittent roar of the subway. As is the beeping and hissing of the buses kneeling, the tangle of cars and car horns. No sandwich board-wearing hawkers hand out cards on the corner chanting “dentista dentista” or “cortepelo,” or “compramos oro.” No flashing, flickering neon lights advertising psychics and lawyers and low low prices. No one leaning out of windows or shouting down the street. No bustle. No hurry.

Thinking about this made me wonder: do my kids ever have a chance to feel peace?

I think many would agree that vacations are just as much for the teachers as they are for the kids and their families (if not more so.) I’ve often joked that the three week-long breaks throughout the year are part of the homicide prevention program for teachers.

But in truth I think the vacations can sometimes be a burden on the families – having to find childcare and ways to keep the kids occupied all week. The norm in the neighborhood is small apartments and big families, and in the dark depths of winter, living spaces and patience for fellow occupants both seem to shrink.

Often the kids have seemed relieved to come back to school after break – when I ask how it was they often answer with a non-commital “ok” or even, “boring.” The kids’ parents don’t typically have the kinds of jobs that have flexible schedules or that are particularly generous with vacation days. So I get the feeling that a lot of my students are spending this week in the company of their television sets and video games, or taking care of their younger siblings.

Last Friday we had a pizza party at lunch for Pretzel Club, the mentoring after-school club that Corky started for fifth graders with low academic confidence. The teachers were eagerly discussing vacation plans: trips to Spain, Florida, Arizona, the Hamptons. J---, my mentee, chimed in a mock-excited tone, “I’m going to my house!” In his voice I thought I detected a note of jealousy, or maybe even bitterness.

It reminded me of a somewhat discomfiting fact that’s always there, but easier not to think about too long or too hard. Even on my starting teacher’s salary that I usually view as pretty modest, I had an extra 400 bucks lying around to fly myself out to Arizona. I have the means to seek out some heat and light (which New Yorkers so desperately desire this time of year) and go and find some peace when I need it. J— really doesn’t.

So the other part of my question about whether or not my kids get to have enough peaceful moments in their lives is this: If the answer is no, not really, what kind of effect does that have on a person?

Right now I am laid out barefoot on my sister’s front porch, sunning myself and deciding which restaurant I want to go to for dinner. I wonder what J—is doing?