Watching Paint Dry

Today I am proctoring tests that my classes take every couple of months or so in order to gauge their progress and possibly qualify for the “big test,” which is their reason for being here. There are few things in life more frustrating and boring than watching someone do something that you can do a far better and more efficient job of. I guess that’s part of teaching, but I am a natural back-seat-driver and it is hard for me not to kibitz. If I could take these tests for them and have it actually help them, I would gladly do so. At least it gives me some time to do a few things on the old computer, such as write this entry.

When I am idle my thoughts turn inevitably to the future, to the never ending and ever expanding “to do” list that I always keep tucked away in one of my pockets or in my wallet. I sometimes wonder if my wallet were stolen, whether I would be more concerned about the lost money or the list? Probably the list. I have been working on giving up this need and just living in the moment and, although I have enjoyed some success, the results of my efforts have been mixed. In reality the future never gets here nor does the present, because by the time we sense something and the nerve impulses are transmitted to our brains and then translated into meaning, emotion or experience, the triggering event is over or has changed. Any object I see is therefore several nanoseconds older than I perceive it to be. All we ever truly know then is the past. Einstein said it best: "Reality is merely an illusion, albeit a very persistent one." One of my former employers used to wear a button on his lapel that read: “Reality is for people that can’t handle drugs.” One of these men is certainly correct, perhaps both are.

On days like today the computer is my link to the outside world. I often shake my head in amazement at just how connected it enables you to be and at the sheer volume of information that is available with only the click of a mouse or a few strokes of the keyboard. I used to watch Star Trek a lot as a kid (I still do when I get the chance) and I always loved the way they were able to ask the computer tough questions and get good answers. The Windows 95 equipped machine that sits hulking on my desk does not do the thinking for me in the same way, but with email, webcams all over the world, and high-speed access to unbelievable quantities of data, it is a pretty close realization of that childhood dream. I’m still waiting for a moon-base though.

When I get tired of pointing and clicking, I turn in my chair and look out the window. The view from my Harlem classroom’s large plate-glass window is that of upper Manhattan and the lower Bronx. It is not what you would call a scenic view but there is a view of the George Washington Bridge, City College and a multitude of housing projects, at least one of which is usually spewing smoke from the roof due to dumpster fires set in the building’s trash chutes. It is a brown, dirty brick red and soiled white landscape of densely packed buildings. There are no trees (well very few) in this part of the city and it reminds me of a scene from The Matrix or Bladerunner, only without all the cool lights and flying cars. The air is always hazy with diesel fumes, and is one of the primary reasons why fifty percent of all kids growing up here have asthma - roach and rat droppings are the other primary reasons. Still, I gaze out and wonder how it all got to be this way, even though I know perfectly well: ten thousand years ago a tribe in Mesopotamia suffered a spiritual calamity and decided that they knew how to run the world better than God. It was the beginning of a massive power trip that is only now reaching its zenith. I look out and I see the cause of all of mankind’s problems, I see the House of Usher. I find this line of thought alarming, so I turn back to my students and watch them chew on the erasers of their pencils as they try to distill the correct responses from the test booklets in front of them. I type out a quick response to an email from Mr. Burns - we have been chatting this morning about his wedding plans and bodily functions, though not in the same contexts.

Soon it will be time for lunch and the afternoons usually go more quickly than the mornings. I will be leaving work at 4:30 today in order to get home, change and make it to a meeting at Zach’s school tonight at 7:00. Mia and I are going to learn about the hoops that the Board of Education has set out for us to jump through in order to get Zach into an appropriate kindergarten. I’m sure I will have more to say on this tomorrow and in the days to come. For now, I’m just sitting here watching paint dry.