This is the question. Wishing for the answer and not getting one, I removed myself from the action. The action of my mind. That is where the data exists. It is up to another master detective to figure out all the lonely causes, the updates, the interferences, the slices. I should have told myself another little story but it was remarkable that one did not exist. At least, not in that form. It wasn't all it was cracked up to be. The form and content of my journey spiked. The pressure. All that pressure of the data.
Other teachers have made it up as they go along. This is probably a good idea. One that I will keep in mind and save for a rainy day. It is supposed to be a chance. A chance to remain in the next phase of these continuing dialogues. They are somewhat Socratic, somewhat word wallish. Anyhow, I gave the students the chalk. It was a first step. A step in the right direction. Could I announce to the world, case solved! or not? I think that the remainder of the day would be spent in dreamtime--a walkabout--although it was my mind walking about, not anyone else. It was the other sort of world that was the beginning. A dream detected. Would I stay glued to O Magazine or proceed with my master plan? I tore myself away from someone playing the violin (her passion, followed) and looked sideways. The only thing I could really see was a nest of computer terminals and beyond, a dim sky, patches of sunshine, and rotting buildings that formed the basis of a school on an island in the middle of the Pacific, approximately 20 miles away from a live vent of the volcano. As the crow flies. Or used to fly.
It wasn't the best but it also wasn't the worst. My only frustrations with formative instruction are that they cannot be contained. They spill over into other realms. Other locations. Then, there are the absolute darlings of days spent here, days spent there. How did it figure that my BFF would turn out to be a Bohemian of the most fundamental kind? One of the most original? It wasn't in the data, quite, but that was not the point.
Well, also, my questions were not welcome, neither were my observations. They were mandated and I remembered that it would all be o.k. someday. On to another case.