Note:
Sorry for not posting last week. Things got very busy very quickly. We're all ok here, though. The following post is therefore set in the last week of February. -D.
We're getting into the swing of the year, now. The new yearlings have been here over three weeks and are losing that look of deer-in-the-headlights confusion. Most of them, in fact, seem to think they know how things work around here--they don't, of course, but Allen says their assumptions comfort them emotionally and also make it easier to work magic on them. So he's pleased.
This time of year, the novices go to workshops and talks and things, rather than classes--which is good for those of us who teach workshops and things but not classes, because we get a lot more practice and a lot more people show up. The yearlings don't care that I'm only a candidate, so that helps, too. They treat me like a master...It's like when I was a site caretaker, and the hikers I talked to treated me like an expert, really listened to me--and I kind of did a double-take at myself and realized hey, I guess I am one. I'm not a master yet, but I'm getting closer.
Last year at this time I couldn't teach much because I was still figuring out what it meant to be a candidate and what I was going to do, now that I was back. I was trying to figure out what I could teach, so I wasn't on the schedule. Now I am.
Steve is in that position, now. He knows how this place works--for real--but he doesn't know how he fits in here. He's new in a new way.
He's also seemed kind of stressed, kind of down. I always used to see him smiling, to the point that I'm not sure I knew what he looked like without a smile--I couldn't picture him well. Now, when he thinks no one is watching him, the smile fades. He frowns and fidgets and looks tense. I'd thought it was just the disorientation of being a new candidate. It can be hard to come back home and then realize you don't know where you fit in. Then I thought it was the stress of being away from his pregnant wife. But it turns out, it's more than that.
We got together the other day, the Candidate's Group, to introduce ourselves to each other--our first meeting of our class, Candidates' Seminar. All the Six were present, too, just like they were last year for our first meeting (which I think came a little earlier in the semester). I guess they want to get a sense of us. We went around the circle and introduced ourselves and what we're studying, again just like last year. Steve went next to last, and something about the way he spoke piqued Allen's attention. The psychologist started asking questions.
Charlie, who had been examining his thumb--he often appears preoccupied when he's actually listening intently--looked over at Allen and smiled slightly, as though he were pleased Allen had decided to intervene. He and Steve are friends of a sort, and I suspect he's noticed Steve not smiling so much. He notices a lot of things. I looked over at Greg, Steve's primary master from his novitiate, and saw him watching Steve intently, nearly expressionless. When Steve started to get defensive under Allen's questioning, Greg held up his hand. Allen stopped
"I believe we should go on with the introductions," Greg said mildly. "Steve, will you please stay after?"
I saw Steve swallow, as though he thought he was in trouble. Which is silly. We don't have that kind of trouble here, by and large, and Steve had done nothing to earn anyone's criticism anyway. But I guess when a teacher asks you to stay after class, there's a reaction that goes with that.
Later, after the class was over and we were all putting away chairs and things, I approached Steve Bees.
"Yer in trou-bull!" I taunted him. He smiled, a little embarrassed. "Wha'd ya do, get a girl pregnant or something?"
"Aw, man, they'll put my ass on the next bus home," he answered, relaxing a little. "She's totally worth it, though. She's crazy about me. Begs for it."
"Yeah, is she....Ok, how do normal guys talk about women?" I couldn't keep the act up.
"I haven't a clue. I can't remember being normal."
"Were you ever?"
"I suppose not," he admitted. He leaned on the chair I'd interrupted him in the act of folding. "Here, I think they'd kick you out for not getting laid. On the grounds of not being sufficiently appreciative of women, or something."
I laughed.
"Well, that would explain Eddie....No, wait, that can't be right, I was a virgin until the November before I graduated."
"You were? But I thought....Well, it's a good thing you got it taken care of, or they would have made you stay another year."
"You're probably right," I admitted,wondering how we'd gotten into this conversation. "I really ought to send Joanna a card or something."
"You take that up with June. Listen, will you come with me?"
"What? Where?"
"To talk to the masters."
"You're not in trouble, Steve."
"I know. And I don't care. I'm nervous. Come with me."
"Ok."
We put away our chairs--everyone else had already left, and drifted over to where Greg and Charlie were waiting for us. Allen was nowhere in sight.
We sat down on the couch near the fireplace. Greg and Charlie each sat in well-stuffed chairs. Charlie had served himself a mug of something hot from a cauldron over the fire.
"Allen saw no reason to confront you with a whole panel of us," Greg explained, with typical dry formality. He then looked at me.
"He's my defense counsel," explained Steve, only half joking.
"I would have thought you qualified to defend yourself," said Greg.
"Not against us," said Charlie. "We're scary." And he took a sip of his drink and grimaced. Still too hot.
"So," said Greg. "Tell me about it."
I could tell from Steve's expression that this was the question he'd been expecting, and he did not want to answer it. But there is something about Greg that feels safe. I've never been sure what it is. He's not friendly--he's too shy for that--but when you need to say something, you can tell him anything. Steve told him all about his Absence, when he had not only gone to law school, gotten a job, and gotten married, he had also gotten deeply involved in civil rights work, mostly racial justice. And he'd seen things.
Apparently, racism is really bad. This is going to sound very strange to some of you, but I hadn't known that. I mean, I knew that racism in the abstract is terrible, but I'd thought that most of it had been sorted out already. It wasn't. He told a couple of stories that sounded like something from sixty years ago and weren't. Police corruption, judicial bias, institutional bias, public indifference, and people dying of all of it. And very little that a small, under-funded, idealistic law firm could do. And as he spoke, Steve clearly got more and more disturbed, as the stress that had been wearing at him in secret surfaced and broke out.
"Greg, you taught me how to care," he said at last, "Maybe you should teach me to care a little less."
"I cannot do that," said Greg. "And I won't try."
"I'd be more effective, though. I don't have time to sit around having feelings." The way he said it, emotions sounded like an indulgence of the self-centered.
"It's natural to be sad, though," I pointed out, "Given the things you're describing."
Steve had been pinching the bridge of his nose with his eyes closed, but he looked up at me suddenly.
"Sad? No, I'm not sad, not particularly. I'm angry. I get home and I can't leave my work behind. I can't be there for my wife....Why do you think I'm living here and she's not? I go to court, and it's all I can do not to punch certain people. I am such a mess."
"And yet you're doing well at work," commented Charlie.
"Oh, I am," agreed Steve. "So far."
"When you were a novice," said Greg, "I was your primary master. You came back to work with me, did you not?"
"Yes, I did," said Steve. "If anyone can teach me peace and acceptance, it's you."
"I don't think I can help you this time, though."
"Oh?"
"No.Charlie can."
"Charlie?"
We all looked at him.
"Daniel," said Charlie, "Do you remember why Jane Goodall said she stays calm and energized on the lecture circuit?"
He was referring to a specific book he asked me to read, years earlier, and a passage of that book that he'd underlined, and to which he'd added several marginal notes. So I had had a hint that it was worth remembering. I should say that Goodall was lecturing on human rights and animal abuse, as well as more obvious conservation subjects. The analogy to Steve's work wasn't unfounded.
"She said she'd learned to carry the forest inside her."
"Good. Do you remember everything I taught you?"
"No, just most of it." I thought he was praising me for my memory, and I didn't want to seem too over-the-top. I actually try to remember everything from him, including everything in those books he drew my attention to. I think I do a pretty good job.
"Good," he said. "Because now you're going to teach it to Steve."
And they all looked at me.
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