PATRIA’S QUARTET CONTINUES AND GROWS - Chapter Thirty

PATRIA’S QUARTET CONTINUES AND GROWS

The afternoon session began with Jack asking Chet about his teaching history. Chet shared that he had spent two years volunteering at a Catholic boys' school. He revealed that while he initially liked the rigidity, but he soon learned that he was in a role more like a policeman than a teacher.

“There was a rule for everything,” Chet said. “It took me weeks to realize I was feeling fear nearly all the time and that 'my' students were too. Some students found fun by picking on weaker kids or annoying the staff, and I hated the gulf between the boys and me. I was told that was just the way it had been for centuries. I guess I believed that for a while.”

I tried to steer him back to his feelings, but he raised a hand in a “stop” gesture. “Patria, this is important. I visited my nephew in San Jose, and his kids were so eager to get to school—it was like me going to Disneyland for the first time. The school was called Two Thousand Smiles. Damn it, I want to spend my later years being a ‘Tator.’ That’s what those kids called their teachers.”

He sat back and took a deep breath, but he wasn’t finished. “So, Jack, what’s your story? I took a leap from retired teacher to Tator. How are you going to jump your Grand Canyon? How do you go from being a shyster lawyer to a humanistic Tator?”

The three of us looked at Jack. He looked defensive as he replied, “Well, Chet, I’m going to learn how to run and jump faster than I ever have. Until this week, I thought my greatest achievement was arguing a case before the Supreme Court. Now I see it was just a sideways movement. Becoming a genuinely loving person—that is jumping the canyon.”

Chet asked, “Did you win the case before the Supremes?”

Before Jack could answer, I jumped in. “Don’t answer that, Jack. It’ll put us off track. Our goal is to know one another better. But tell us, Jack, what is your biggest hurdle to becoming a more loving person?”

“I’ve realized that being truly loving isn’t just about learning new words or actions,” Jack said. “It’s about changing how we experience life and connecting with others. Kathy used the word ‘resonate,’ and I like that. If I want to be ‘real,’ I need to resonate with you. I left here yesterday feeling confused and resentful, thinking you all looked down on me.” He smiled tentatively. “I was more afraid of you three than I was of nine Supreme Court Justices.”

We all laughed, and he continued, “Now, I’m realizing I’m afraid of myself—that maybe I’m incapable of being real.”

Sensing it was time to shift the spotlight, I turned to Kathy. “How do you feel about us, Kathy? Me as your new Tator, Jack our not-so-shy ‘shyster’ lawyer and our grumpy Grandpa Chet?”

Chet chuckled. “Wow, Patria—shyster and grumpy! Are we doomed?” He grinned, clearly enjoying the exchange. “I think I’ll like the give-and-take of being a Tator much more than being a disciplinarian with thirty energetic kids. By the way, how many kids are in each cohort and class?”

“Last non-personal question,” I answered. “Ten per cohort and twenty per class. Each Tator is assigned two of each. Now, back to Kathy: what do you feel about me as your Tator?”

“I think you’re courageous to take on these two hard-headed gentlemen,” Kathy said. “I like how you encounter them without threats. My only experience with fear-based education was in college; I was surprised to find I was more fearless than classmates who had dealt with it for twelve years.”

I nodded my thanks, and Kathy turned to Chet. “Today, Chet, you remind me of my favorite grandpa—kind, funny, and pleasant. I’m starting to like you as I get past those outer walls we all put up.” She then turned to Jack. “Jack, do your daughters look forward to seeing you when you pick them up?”

Jack looked at the ceiling for a long moment. “Yes—if they know we’re going to Universal Studios or some other kid-friendly place. I think anyone with a car would do.” He turned back to Chet. “Maybe your granddaughter could give me a few lessons. Hey, would you and your granddaughter join my daughters and me for an outing? Could we make that happen?”

“You two can talk about that at the break,” I interrupted. “Kathy, thank you for questioning these old—and increasingly nice—guys.”

We continued exploring our connections until the session ended, we then rejoined the larger group. Sam asked the circle, “Our intention for these four-person groups was to achieve the intimacy we hope our students will experience in a month. Are we achieving that?”

Kathy jumped in enthusiastically. “I definitely experienced a connection. We went from antagonists to friends in only four days. Thank you, Patria.” Jack and Chet both nodded in agreement.

Sam then distributed copies of a letter that was supposedly written by Albert Einstein to his daughter. “We’ll discuss this tomorrow,” Sam said. We had decided it was important to ground our philosophy in the spirit of the great scientist, even if the ideas were contained in a fictitious letter.