Heads-Up for Kayleb

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An 11 year-old autistic boy kicked a garbage can because he was having a bad day.  This resulted in Kayleb being charged with disorderly conduct.

A couple of weeks later, a school – police officer grabbed Kayleb, threw him down on the ground, handcuffed him, charged him with 1) another disorderly conduct; and 2) a felony.  

There is an opportunity to sign a petition with Change.org:

 http://www.change.org/p/justiceforkayleb-an-autistic-6th-grader-unfairly-convicted-of-a-felony 

Public School really needs to be a safe place for our kids.   In Kayleb’s case, I don’t know all the facts: I was not there.  But based on what information is available, it’s wrong for Kayleb to have to endure this.  Absolutely wrong.  Then again, there will always be injustice among children … on this side of heaven.  It’s still wrong.

Snows, Spring, Pushing Through

SnowBelle in Snow
SnowBelle in front of the two feet of snow.

Three days ago I walked out to see how much snow was still on the ground.  A few patches in the shady places, where sunlight filters through the trees.  My thoughts were that Spring is coming through the mountains; that we had seen the last of snow.  Such thoughts were in the space of obliviousness.  I had not checked the weather, which according to some folks up here is a cardinal sin.

Two days ago some of the people I work with were talking it up:

“How much?”

“They’re saying up to two feet above 8,000.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Oh, it’s gonna happen. It’s going to be a upslope.”

“When?”

“Tonight.”

Yesterday morning, the snow was just getting ramped up.  Around noon, I had to push through my reluctance and the thick snow on the driveway.  Snow blower doesn’t work, so it was me and shovel.  We finally measured our driveway a while back.  I would not have guessed, but its 450 feet long.  There is a curve in the middle. I embraced the thick wool dungarees  that I bought in 1992 at a thrift store; a t-shirt; a workout jacket; a polar fleece; wool hat; Sorrels snow boots; and some gloves (one right, and one left).  I attacked the snow, driving back my nemesis (one of my nemesis), to the sides of the driveway.  I felt like Gandalf, not with a staff but with a shovel, standing against the bellrog: “YOU … SHALL … NOT … PASS!!!”

By evening it was hammering pretty good.  This morning, I looked out the sliding glass door at the two feet of snow.  Ahhhhh.  Just what I was looking for: more snow to shovel on my 450 feet steep-steep driveway.  So … switching  gears.   The metaphor of the snowstorm connected with my heart and mind.  I’ve been in a difficult season that has gone on … way too long.  There have been several events over the last 7 years that have knocked me off the horse.  In some ways, I have been a hiding man.  In other ways I have been a wounded man.  A handful of people, who know me well enough to speak candidly with me, have said numerous times over the last seven years: “T: get back in the game …”; “Get back on the horse …”; “You know what you’re supposed to be doing, so do it …”  I don’t resent their counsel.  They are right.  And yet, I see some logic to the idea, expressed in this hypothetical question: “Why should I get back on the horse … just to be knocked off, again?”  The snowstorm metaphor.  I have no choice but to push back the snow.  The snow cannot win.  I have what it takes.  As Winston Churchill said: “This will be our finest hour.” Chances are that some who are reading this post might have experienced some of the same anguish, some of the same type of dilemma.   So, are we going to do this?  Are we going to push through?