The Greatest Song Ever That I Can Never Play For My Class!
I teach fifth grade. School begins in three days. Anxious stomach and headaches began three days ago. A teacher’s comedown from the long sweet summer is a vicious withdrawl of its own. One could safely assume this withdrawl lacks vomit and shitting of the britches; but gone are the days of sleeping in (six a.m.!), reading tons of books, and taking my son for walks in his wagon in the comfort of a morning breeze. Teachers work crazy hours and take on more stress than the human heart is surely designed for during the school year, so that the summer hours have been built by their own design; and the best part, guilt free.
I work at a school where I feel very, very happy. I love whom I work with, and enjoy the kids. There is usually very little superfluous meeting to have meetings, and bureaucratic nonsense. Any teacher that has quit the trade will usually tell you the reason had nothing to do with the kids, but everything to do with what other adults inflict on the profession. Unfortunately, the profession that should make the most sense, education, often makes the least. Welcome to one of life’s many cruel ironies. I would recommend anyone in college that has not found the adult world already riddled with hypocrisy take a naive leap into the gaping yaw and become an educator.
In its purest form, to be a teacher is a privelege, a gift. It is because of what the kids bring. It is their eyes, mind, and heart that make being in the classroom, the one best, most true place to spend one’s workday. It never ceases to amaze me that with my strict work policies, and high expectations for behavior, even those that have crossed the line and had consequences dealt their way, still love school, and remarkably stll think I am a pretty great guy to be around. What is it in the adult world that irons this out of us. What teaches us to judge every situtation and stranger with a skeptical eye instead of the smiling goodwill of a ten year old’s overflowing heart.
Maybe this is why I love Tilly & the Wall’s “Nights of the Living Dead” so incredibly. The song celebrates what it means to be young with such immediacy and power it resonates far beyond the average pop song. “Nights” is a promise, a vow to not let a moment pass without calling it one’s own and cherishing whatever follows. Carpe Dium of course, and all that jazz - but it is true, we take on layers of armor for what we consider adulthood, and learn through practice how to stifle our heart’s most natural instincts which are usually kind and welcoming. Why?
The words, the melody - the entire construction of the song recall the limitless possibility of youth. The first part of the song paints an exuberant picture of a teenager’s friday night in the city. Aimless, with friends, drifting wherever the mood, and wine command. The latter half of the song warns of the dangers of becoming complicit and essentially ‘lining’ up on a great ‘black highway’ to face our own mortality; forgetting all the joys, all the time, because afterall, we have lives, responsibilities, and are clearly adults. We know what is expected of us.
The end of the song gives me goosebumps every single time I hear it. This is saying alot, since I have listened to this song probably over 10,000 times already. Over cheerful acoustic strums, and tapdanced percussion, the band sings, “I want to fuck it up! I want to fuck it up.” Which in turn, leads into the one emotion that could follow such a bold proclamation; “And I feel so alive . . . I feel so goddamn real!”
We built this city on rock and roll. So let’s tear it all down to build it all up again because rock and roll was never powered by skeptics, but by dreamers. Much like any ten year old fifth grade student.
Too bad I can’t play my students Tilly & the Wall’s “Nights of the Living Dead” because of numerous swear words bellowed with gusto. If the lyrics escaped their young minds, surely they’d find the feeling.
Tilly & the Wall - Nights of the Living Dead
