Soft snow

This morning's headlines: Higher salary needed to attract school leader

The article focused on the salary of the bedraggled and befuddled office of superindentent for the bedraggled and befuddled Seattle School District. Funny how this argument is always used for administrators, but when teachers attempt to use it to justify salary increases (good salaries attract good teachers), there are always a millions reasons why quality pay for quality teachers doesn't work.

And perhaps it doesn't work for administrators either as Seattle has been struggling with budgets and leaders for years.

But I think there's a deeper issue here (isn't there always?) and that is -- EVERYONE who works with children (daycare workers, social workers, teachers) are all paid shit because no one really cares about kids. Yes, they pay lip service to the importance of children as our valuable future, but its just lips moving in a monotone drone spouting what they think should be said. Yes, there are individuals who value children, but as a country, our cars are more valuable than our kids. Our computers, too.

I thought about all of this while skiing this morning. It was crystal clear up in the mountains and the snow was soft and slow, but glorious. The mountains are deep with new snow as the rains keep falling and the temperatures keep dropping, rather flukish in this age of global warming.

Cross country skiing is the best way I know of clearing my head. My heart pumps wildly and I suck in cold air like it's a drug I can't live without. It is, in fact, and like any true addict, I bask in the moment the high begins.

I didn't let the thoughts of today's news ruin the ski. They were just thoughts, floating through me like the air, the trees, and the sunshine.

And then I fell...down a big hill. It was one of those "agony of defeat" moments, though the hill was not nearly as steep nor my speed as fast as the poor guy on ABC sports. Still, my arms were stretched out slapping the surface of the snow like a windshield wiper.

All thoughts disappeared at that point, lost in the softness of the snow and the sound of laughter shaking the white trees. The rest of the afternoon I just pushed my legs and my arms and my heart and my lungs like some great machine fueled by crisp blue air.