parenting as a crap shoot

the flare of self

parenting,

what a roll of the dice,

we love unconditionally,

we stumble about in a trackless wood,

and make decision after decision on the fly,

knowing what we want to be as parent,

what fullness of self we hope for our child,

and how limited our vision and control 

can feel themselves to be,

for, as God discovered, 

free will lives,

beyond our control, 

as is right,

the child must choose, 

and then we know who she is, 

who he is,

when circumstance and choice, 

plus the hope of our parenting,

lead to a personhood that knows itself,

and flares itself with sureness and rightness,

how magnificent the revelation of self can be!

by Henry H. Walker

February 26, ‘19

competition

striving towards the whole

I see the whole that each kid craves to be,

the whole that should be who we are as a species,

and I feel the fall that pulls at us,

pulls us to smash ourselves into pieces,

pieces that forget who they ought to be,

and congratulate themselves on being a part

that thinks it’s a whole,

I love a musical when countless parts make a whole,

a sports team where individuals shine

and the whole shines even brighter,

I despair of our politics,

so zero-sum, 

where one side’s plus 

requires the other’s minus,

competition, as a word, means to strive with,

a collective reach for excellence,

where one can be at their best,

and each can gain, even in a loss,

one wins in the striving towards the whole.

by Henry H. Walker

February 18, ‘19

a crescendo on, and from, the stage

Narnia

a play on paper is not alive,

just as blueprints are not a building,

anatomy sketches not a person,

actors learn lines, then blocking,

still it’s not real, more shadow than substance,

if the play’s a musical,

then songs start to flash of the animate,

I love it when we stumble through a first run,

for the whole takes a few breaths on its own,

costumes start to be added, then makeup,

appearance reinforces and reveals character,

individual parts start to stir with power,

the first rough dress rehearsal:

more and more is coming together

so that glitches, forgotten lines, 

missed entrances, breaks in character,

have even more power to negate

the positivity of the pulling together,

the wholeness, though, now has a power

that wills itself into being:

the show is coming into itself,

each character will shine forth

and each belief in self allows the belief in the other,

and a wholeness begins to break through on the stage,

the last dress rehearsal,

and over 95% of the show releases itself,

the meaning clearer and clearer

as the whole will not be denied,

my belief in student, in part, in the whole,

supported by what is before me,

mics are added so that voices have power

to reveal lines, songs, content,

props and set pieces are frames within which

story reaches down, reaches up, reaches out

to hold itself, and us,

then to our first audience,

young people whose imaginations ache to believe in wonder,

and all the parts click into a whole,

a new life takes its first steps,

and we are all  parents, lost in the toddler,

who will be herself,

who will be himself,

our second performance works so well

that my tears flow freely,

as what, as who I see on stage

throbs with the power each child has

if the way can but be found to release it,

I watch an individual and appreciate the group,

I watch the group and appreciate the individual,

I applaud, I cheer, I cry,

the play is alive, as are all the students, behind and on the stage,

who have found the way

for the inner lights to dazzle us all,

our first fully-intentional audience,

and I see them captivated, one with the show,

a spontaneous standing ovation at the end,

we are true to the emotion of the wonder

that has been before us,

the wonder that pulls us to our feet,

a greatness before us, with us, lives,

it deserves the celebration

that life should demand of the stasis,

the stasis that calls us away from risking

to be true to what we can be,

more see this show than any show in CFS history,

for now we have a spanking new Performing Arts Center

with room for over 300 in the audience,

the production crescendoes to an end,

I hope the success each won with individual and collective effort

will live within them and remind them to risk, to work, 

to see a city on a hill, and help to build it.

by Henry H. Walker
February, ‘19

us and the arts

the arts

the arts can be denied,

when schools have to cut expenses,

academics are hard to deny,

for reading, writing, math, science,

social studies, languages,

shout of their value,

the kinesthetic, if expressed as sports,

opens purses, but expressed as art, as dance,

can be denied,

what seems true to me is

that a school’s most important task

is to help each young person learn to believe in self,

to hit the “on” switch that doubt and frustration can gum up,

this week near half of our middle school

are pulling off a musical in our new Performing Arts Center,

there is a wholeness, a life, that comes real on stage:

as actor, set designer, costumer, makeup artist, prop maker, all excel,

light and sound people, stage managers,

all together pull off what needs doing

so that each individual can shine bright

within a whole that shines bright,

the closest analogy to me is a team in sports,

where the collective, acting together,

somehow reveals individuality,

the sense of self as part of a larger whole,

the arts are one way to help empower the student,

we teachers, we advisors, work all the time

to do our best for the empowerment of the young person,

this week, the arts shout of how well

a full-scale musical can blaze of empowerment,

it is hard to sacrifice part of one’s own journey with kids

to enable another’s journey,

but of such is how a community does its best to stumble forward.

by Henry H. Walker

February 2, ‘19

"What did you last learn from a child?"

a child-centered school

The child is central.

a teacher for the early school is asked

“What did you last learn from a child?”

and she is hooked on Carolina Friends School,

other places that had talked to her

questioned credentials, history, titles,

she finds a home where the child is central,

a former CFS teacher speaks of his faith,

and the power of the practice here, the walk of the talk,

how the school embodies that of the spirit, makes it real,

for his own children, for the community,

a current CFS teacher,

a guy who “fixes it” with things and with kids

who need to express self through tools and wood,

appreciates what the school has done

for him, for his own children,

and now hopes to continue for his grandchildren,

that each will be seen and loved for who each is,

that the school will stay true to person and mission,

a former head of school

speaks of the vision of a Promised Land a school can have,

and the effort to create that school,

while holding no structure as set in stone, except,

“The child is central.”

by Henry H. Walker

January 29, ‘19

CFS, heads, and calling

rightness, wholeness, calling

a school dares the attempt,

dares to listen, again and again,

to whatever speaks from the still center within,

that somehow can also seek to speak as earlier voices,

all of which seek to express 

the drive for rightness, for wholeness,

inherent within the universe,

and too often blocked, stymied,

the school creates a philosophy

and strives to structure what goes on in and out of classrooms

as working drafts re-envisioned 

as student and philosophy express themselves:

truth is continually revealed,

each of us is unique,

we can come together in community,

spirit infuses us and all life,

each of us can come into our own power,

and change the world, for the better,

today I am gifted with an hour

of the heart, of the mind, of the soul,

of four heads of Carolina Friends School,

speaking with each other of experience and value,

the turbulence and joy of being at the center,

while realizing that each student, that each staff member,

is also the center of the school, of the universe,

that one’s job of being head of school,

at its best, is of helping hold us

to the calling of the philosophy, of the Spirit,

that “the least of these” is central to the good of the whole,

I love the laughs,

I love the stories,

I love how well each has heard, 

and still hears, the calling,

the calling to find the way

so that rightness, so that wholeness, works its way forward,

that each moment can be of celebration of student and community,

finding the power that should be the birthright of all,

a school still dares the attempt,

how wonderful it is to touch the power within the heads of school,

as each feels their feet of clay and reaches to grasp the stars.

by Henry H. Walker

January 26, ‘19

CFS: the early years

a school calls itself into being

an idea came from somewhere

into the hearts of members of a Quaker meeting,

Friends who felt the calling of that of God

within themselves, within others,

and then that calling came from the potential of a school

that would shape itself into being,

a school that would be there, for black and white together,

that would become what students need,

that would become what teachers could envision and create,

that could be re-envisioned every year, every day, every moment,

for truth is continually revealed, and obscured,

a school must constantly listen and respond

to the truth of each individual’s journey

and to the truth of the community

inherent in the possibilities

of individuals coming together,

four longterm staff sit together and visit,

sharing their stories of how each came to the school,

of the journey to create space and curriculum

that could unleash the learner’s power,

their drive to be, to become, to imagine:

a pine cone, stripped of its seeds, becomes a shrimp,

and shrimp races are born,

at the playground acorns become money,

mud becomes cookies, play is real:

the fort, the kitchen, the cardboard city,

one student’s special world is shared with the class,

and for two months his world holds theirs,

as story after story comes into being

within the welcoming arms of his newly-envisioned world,

within the storytelling I hear:

the effort of a young school with limited resources,

rescued carpet from a Durham hotel closing down,

better than no carpet, but still a trial,

furniture from the Record Bar going out-of-business, repurposed,

even three coffins used for coats

when closets made way so that two rooms

could be connected to allow family grouping of 7-10 year olds,

a bus service that broke down too often,

buses that were cheap because they weren’t worth much,

wood stove and chill to save on electricity:

staff and students making do,

I hear of administrators who support staff’s risks,

and colleagues who work to make sure

the kids stay central,

that the staff stay true to the cutting edge

where extraneous falls away, 

and the shape within reveals its beauty.

by Henry H. Walker

January 21, ‘19