Today's first reading and Gospel both use the parable of the vineyard owner.  In both cases, the vineyard owner builds a wall (or hedge), a wine press, and a tower.  In the first reading, wild grapes take over his fields.  In the Gospel, he rents out the land, but when he sends servants for his portion the harvest, the tenants beat, abuse, and kill them.  He then sends his son, hoping they will respect him, but they they abuse and kill him too.  In both cases, the landowner eventually abandons the land or the tenants and seeks others who will be productive.  These aren't nice tales.  They don't have happy endings.  They warn about neglecting the will of God, that the rewards promised to us will go to others if we don't do our part in making the world a better place.

In truth, my focus this mass was not on the readings as much as on the homily.  Our pastor discussed the role of exorcism in the Catholic Church.  It was one of the longest sermons that I can remember.  While it dealt with the presence of the devil and demons in our world (a topic that I wrote about this week, even), I found myself not being entirely accountable.  Instead, I was worrying about the length of the mass, especially since there was also a baptism.  I usually don't mind long services, myself (in fact, I miss Fr. Jim's three hour Easter Vigil), but I know that they stress out my father, and that my wife had a meeting today.  So, as the homily went on, I couldn't help but feel my anxiety grow.

My mind tends to wander anyway.  I even have that problem when I'm praying on my own.  My thoughts drift.  When I was younger, I intentionally brought my daydreams to the forefront of my thoughts as a way to pass the time more quickly.  Now that I have a better understanding of the beauty of the mass, I still find those childish habits returning and my focus disappearing.  I still listened to the parables about the vineyards and the discussion about demon possession, but I did not give them the concentration I feel they deserved.

I suppose that this is how some of my students feel as I talk about history.

Were I to get complete control (and I mean complete control) of a school or school system, there are a few things that I would like to change.  Probably the most important of these things would be the structure of the school day itself.

For one, our schools start too early.  Despite a plethora of studies that show that middle and high school students benefit the most from late starts to the school day, we continue to force students to be to school before 8am (let alone the recommended 9am).  Even college age students do their best to avoid 8am classes.  Yet we have some students who, due to practice schedules, actually have to be at the school by 6:30am.  When you add in hours of homework, after school activities going throughout the evening, and television studios putting their most attractive (to high school age students) shows after 9pm,  it is no surprise that many students are yawning through their school day.

To make matters worse, we throw too many subjects to them through the school day.  A full load at the college is between 12-18 credits (with 18 pushing the limit).  That's the equivalent of three to six classes a semester that meet between one to four times a week.  Most high schools run a six-class schedule, with students having to juggle the maximum subjects of most college schedules while meeting for five hours a week for each subject.  Despite what many politicians claim, our students are actually in school too long.

We also need more selection for our students.  Right now they are packed into classes that supposedly teach the same standards at the same time even though we know that students learn differently and at different paces, and even though we know that not all of our students will need the exact same lesson at the same time.

Later starts and a varied class system with fewer on ground hours is a program that has made our colleges and universities some of the best in the world.  I know that we would still need to supervise our students through the school day (something that colleges don't need to worry as much about), but we could do so by allowing students to pick tutoring centers during the time that they are not in direct instruction classrooms.  These centers could range from study halls that provide a quite place to work, recess areas to give some of our students that much needed activity that they are often denied, "reruns" of courses so they get a double hit of the info, student-led group study sessions, or even one-on-one tutoring.

There are flaws with my proposed system, but I think that it's better than most schools are doing right now.  Granted, any system is going to do poorly under the current financial and legislative constraints that public schools are currently under.  Still, it's nice to dream.

It wasn't until my first child was born that I realized how deeply I could care for someone.  My love for my family is boundless.  Especially considering how vulnerable they are when they enter the world, my natural protectiveness towards my children is entirely understandable.  

What might be less understandable is that this protectiveness extends to my students as well.  Although not quite to the same degree as my feelings for my own children, my desire to help my students and keep them safe from the dangers of the world is still embedded deeply in the very fiber of my being.  I know that I can't protect all of them, but I hurt when they are hurting.

I know that part of this is also due to my "hero complex," the condition where I want to solve everyone's problems even though I don't have the qualifications to do so.  I want to be a hero for my students, to give them the chance to be the best possible versions of themselves.  When I hear stories of children who encounter terrible trials, painful events, and early deaths, I can feel the pain keenly as if something has punctured my heart.

This is why teachers at Newtown, Connecticut, stood between a crazed gunman and the children in their care.  Despite the politics, the bad press, insufficient compensation, and sometimes terrible working conditions, teachers still walk into their classrooms every day in the hopes of making their students' lives better.  You might think that I'm being overly dramatic, but I guarantee you that I am not.

Don't mess with my students.