The Future

We are all interested in the future, for that is where we will spend the rest of our lives…

Ed Wood.

It was with apprehension that I sat in a large room waiting for my name to be called.  There is bidding for GRPS jobs, you see, and we were all waiting.  Waiting.  There is not much I am endorsed for, but many are only “endorsement preferred.”  A position that caught my eye was one for an 8th grade self contained.  Science endorsement preferred.  I am applying for a few jobs this fits.

This does not concern me, for though I lack the endorsement I am extremely well experienced and successful in the teaching of science.  Science is the best.

What could be better than teaching a student to wonder?  That’s the backbone of all education!  Science is everywhere!  Reading?  The science of words.  Math?  Science of numbers?  Social Studies?  I believe you mean Social Science.  Everything is the creation of guesses and testing them to be correct.  That is science, my friends.

Oh, to be the hero of Neil deGrasse Tyson and be a science instructor!  To help students to wonder.  It is so easy to wonder, I don’t understand why more people do not.

We are all atoms, you see.  The tiniest, infinitesimal specks make up everything, from us to the earth, to the sun, to the stars – some of which can hold millions of suns!  All made up of unfathomably small pieces of matter.  How wondrous (let me channel Dr. Tyson) to stare into the sky at nighttime.

To look into those pinpricks in the velvet sky, unreachable by mankind.  Each of them millions of years old – some gone now, their light reaching us eons after they have exploded.

And even longer ago, some of the earliest stars exploded shooting raw matter through the cosmos until some of it slowly coalesced and spun and bulged and ignited – birthing our sun and allowing our own disk to be warmed, even as it cooled.  Our place in space secure as our planet blazed in its orbit, cooling slowly, the water finally condensing to the surface.

And in that water, atoms crashed together to become amino acids and proteins and began that long march toward life until finally an ape climbed out of a tree, and an ape stood upright, and finally an ape – unlike any other ape – was able to look into the pinpricks in the velvet and fail to comprehend what they meant.  Those stars in the sky we were all birthed within.

What child could that fail to inspire?  Oh, yes!  Let me teach science and experiment and build a sense of wonder!  It is everywhere – the bakers use it, the luthiers, the engineers, the astronauts!

Oh, limitless future, how I wish I knew what you held.  I only wish to teach children to wonder.

Ray

Ray Bradbury is dead.

You probably know that.

In the annals of my youth, Ray Bradbury was the first author I recall flipping out over.  I don’t yet recall if it was The Martian Chronicles or Dandelion Wine.  But it was something.  He was a storyteller and something more – a lyricist.  His words wove together so finely you could never see the seems.  It was like watching a loom creating a river.  

I once adapted a story for stage – a boy who grows mushrooms.

I devoured his writing and have not read much for many years.  Have I outgrown him?  No.  It’s his writing, though, that really inspired me to write.  And so I will.

So I will.