Spots

     By day I am Clark Kent.  But by night, I am...

     ....Actually, I am just Clark Kent without the suit.   I specialize in doing what other people can't or won't do.  Whether in media/stage production or making sure some pretentious know-nothing has the right wine or scaring little kids while wearing a mascot suit, I do it all.   I like to think of myself as an opportunist; however, I am just a spotted hyena of the African plains, seeking opportunity.

     For over ten years I was a teacher.  With assignments ranging from Kindergarten through University I earned the derision of administrators who could not see past their next accreditation review or Friday night football game.  Vision is in short supply these days.  Yet my most rewarding years were spent in the midst of the Forgotten Ones:  Juvenile Justice.  I taught for over two years at a Residential Facility and one in an Alternative School.

     These were the Statistics.  The Rejects.  They were told by the Establishment that they were Learning Disabled, which gave them justification for dropping out, chasing fast money, and abusing everyone in their paths.  Some would return to public school.  Some were waiting until their eighteenth birthday, whereupon they would be transferred to one of Florida's many Vice Factories and N-word Universities (a.k.a., prisons).  But some had dreams.

     He was a quiet young man.  He was intelligent.  He was probably middle class, but based on his street cred the other kids knew not to mess with him.  In quiet, calm tones he said that he said he wanted to be a fire fighter.

     Fast forward a few years.  I was working as a drone in a bureaucracy that I hated.  One day while walking through the basement (a short-cut to the back parking lot), I saw him; he was my coworker.  He looked the same, albeit a bit more mature.  We exchanged pleasantries, and he let me know that he still wanted to be a fireman.  In this day and age of budget cuts I knew his dream was unlikely, yet I kept my doubts to myself.

     "You'll get there!" I said.

     I changed employers and have exchanged my cage for one far more interesting.  Recently I went into a convenience store and there he was, all decked out in his firefighting gear.  As serious as ever, he smiled.  And I said that I was proud of him.

      I have never seen a fire company with a dog, other than in Norman Rockwell paintings.   But when I met my former student, I felt like I had exchanged my hyena's spots into those belonging to a much nobler creature:  The Dalmation on the fire truck.
 
     We rats have to race, always.  But I believe we find the most satisfaction when we take time to encourage others.

     Always B. Positive!