On engagement...

Inside the cavernous interior of an industrial-era warehouse a line of people has formed. Some are sullen, some anxious. All look like they'd rather be somewhere else.

The folding chairs provided for those waiting on the queue go unused. Partly because the line is moving just fast enough to make sitting more work than standing. And it's easy to tell by looking at the slightly askew frames and hard plastic seats that the chairs wouldn't be that comfortable in the first place.

At the forward end of the line, sitting in one of the less-bent chairs behind a serviceable folding table, is a smiling, friendly, maybe hapless, bureaucrat. A career civil servant trying to put the best possible face on the situation and himself - committed for over 20 years to the notion that nothing should ever be made more miserable than it already is.

As the parent and child formerly standing before the table shuffle away the bureaucrat steals a quick glance at the timepiece on his wrist seriously hoping that no one notices but not really caring at the same time. Funny thing, ambivalence.

He recalls something he thinks he heard recently. "There needs to be standards," a supervisor or think tank or some self-appointed expert said. But he's not sure, and he's even less sure standards would be important or helpful. He just hopes his continued employment doesn't come to depend on accepting standards that ask everyone to be exactly the same. It would make it harder to put on his best-possible face. He wondered for a second if he should call 'Next in line!' like his fellows at the DMV.

Before the thought could will itself to action the next pair, a mother and a son this time, approach the table and smile in a friendly way. The bureaucrat takes notice of the effort the polite affirmation requires of them. He asks if they'd like to sit but the three of them know there wouldn't be much more point to sitting now than there was when the pair were standing in line.

"Hello. Thanks for coming and thanks for waiting so patiently," the bureaucrat said with a gesturing glance around the cavern. "I'm sorry the line was so long and that we don't have much time to talk," he said with a tone that he immediately hoped didn't sound like excuse-making. "So let's get right to it," he continued, with as much genuine enthusiasm as he could muster.

"It appears our greatest obstacle to progress, at this time, is simply a lack of productivity," he said. "Things that need to be done are not getting done and that makes it impossible to get a baseline sensibility which makes it difficult to determine if progress is being made. And difficult for me to help."

The mother turned to look at her son. He was studying his shoes as if the answer to all creation's questions might be found in the slightly askew symmetry of the laces or legs of the unused chair in front of him.

There's a moment of silence, the sort that introduces a sense of resignation. The mother asks for a call, a message, any information should the situation change for the worse. The bureaucrat struggles to imagine things getting worse but he assures her that he will. He thinks he remembers the President saying that things are rarely as good as they seem. Or as bad.

His feels his perennially positive attitude rising inside him as the meeting comes to its inevitably awkward end. He hopes the mother and son notice his confidence and find courage for themselves in it. He really believes he can help. He also knows he can't do it for them. For any of them. It may not be forbidden for him to do it but it wouldn't be right. At that moment he envied his comrades at the DMV. You have to want a driver's license to get one. And you'll do what you need to do to get it. Otherwise there's no point in standing in that long line either.

As the mother and son shuffle away the bureaucrat finds his spine straightening and a reflexive smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

"Next in line!" he calls out, enthusiastically, just to see what it feels like. He could always get a job at the DMV. "They could use some enthusiasm over there," he thinks out loud, seriously hoping that no one heard and gets the wrong idea - but not really caring at the same time.

Appreciation Time!

I want to thank my wonderful colleagues, Jen Teal, Mike Barry, and Meredith Riggan, for the beautiful journey we have been on together this year!  Empowered Learning, like anything new and uncharted,  has presented struggles and challenges.  But, it has changed my whole outlook on teaching in an overwhelmingly positive way!  I could not have done this without the strength, encouragement, and help of these wonderful people.  I feel so fortunate to continue this journey with them, and I am so pleased that other colleagues are sharing interest in possibly joining us on this path.  I have always believed that the most important aspect of education is building and maintaining relationships with students.  It is equally important to build and maintain relationships with colleagues, as well.  Thank you Jen, Mike, and Meredith, for taking me under your wings and for always being there--through the stressful and discouraging times, the beautiful and enlightening times, and all the moments in between!  Working with all of you this year has been the most exciting time of my career, and I am just so thankful!

David Jenvey