The Dixon Discourse

In 2005 I was teaching at a private alternative school in Balston, OR. I LOVED that job: not so much the paperwork and planning that comes with teaching, but working with teens that did not fit the “normal” bill. In October of that year I was informed that I needed to enroll in school as well as teach it. I was so excited to find out that not only did I get to go for my masters degree and teacher certification, I was going to be able to go on someone else’s dime! I went through the application hoops, took the MAT, bought my books, and in December I started a new cohort at Western Oregon University. After my first term there I was elated to find myself sporting my first ever 4.0 GPA. My classes had all been about adolescents: psychology, learning styles and development. I had found my passion! I was eager to start the next term until I took the first term bill into my boss and she said I would need to pay it. WHAT? That’s when things started going south… and without realizing it, I took

Painted toenails gild tanned feet flip flop tanline intact Air thick with the smell of vibrant things a trail of sweat runs down my back Sundress hiked up and tied to miss terra disturbed by my task water wakes up with a gurgle and spit flowers come alive and bask "Mama" comes scratching, cluck cooing low drawn by the sound of the spray knowing full well that the watering brings up the worms at this time of day Neighboring fields bring the swish of a tail a hoof stamps the ground in a game Calf moos hello to the horse in the next field horse seems to whinny back the same Dragonflies flit and tease on the pond trout hover close to the surface toads bellow from behind the frond nothing is here without purpose Decorations, the flowers, are sated for now the water diverted to the yard the garden is next with its rows hand plowed and the trees in the back standing guard A cool breeze blows refreshing and sweet lifting the curls at my neck a look to my wrist: no deadlines to meet j

I have to wonder if I am different than most people... I know that sets me up for a multitude of jokes but humor me if you will. When I look at things in the world - when I notice something - I don't just see that thing, I contemplate it. It's like I look beyond the surface - the one dimensionality of the thing - and consider it. For instance if I notice a yard sale sign I don't just see the words and the address, I see the way it was painted or written, how it was taped or fastened to whatever is holding it up, and then I start thinking about who made the sign, how old the person might be... Did he or she make the sign in the garage or on the kitchen table? Did they have to go to the store for paper or did they make it out of something they already had? Now I don't do this on every yard or garage sale sign I see, let alone every THING I see. I do this with things I notice. Even with this qualifier, however, you can imagine how much time I spend thinking about the thin