Finding Rural: Welcoming Road Changes

Interstate becomes County Road

Hallways, a certain sheen about them, like a freshly paved highway. There is a slight bump as new road merges with old. Students traverse it with a bit of trepidation, the first few weeks. This seam that you rarely notice, as you are driving, until you pass over it, becomes apparent. A quick signal that the road ahead is not, necessarily even. Personal and profession merge, one becoming clearer in the rear view.

This thump, adjustment, is worn down overtime, blending in with the concrete underneath. Speeding vehicles no longer notice the transition and sync with the grooves. These indentations have ingrained themselves in the asphalt. This corrugation becomes familiar, comfortable. A signal that our focus has aligned with our surroundings. We no longer need the GPS, we know our route. Each landmark, guiding us down the bustling highway, we call a school. The academic interstate that is our educational road map.

Interstates, freeways, tollways: whatever pavement you choose to navigate is a busy thoroughfare. Rarely empty, generally hustling with momentum and velocity. Lane changes, acceleration and traffic flow. In a constant flux of commuting and road trips. Some transporting goods, while others are simply trying to get home, after a hard days work. Gridlock may be avoided, but there is always a movement. A haulage of information that keeps the interchanges dynamic and the off-ramps, clear. A continuity like no where else.

Once exit occurs, onto county road, there is a sense of calm. There is a crispness, less exhaust fills the air. Horns are silenced. There is a lull for once. Flashing signs, guiding one to the the 4-way intersection. Street Lights swaying in the summer breeze. Tall city-scapes transition, to fields of possibility: wheat and corn rustling. The slow pace of life, tractors plowing, animals strolling, lines of mailboxes line the artery- the connection between urban and rural. The trail may narrow but the community deepens.

Farm to Market

When I moved to Texas six years ago, there were two main differences when it came to the roadways and traffic. The first was many roads are called FM with a number. FM 246 or FM 425 etc. I had lived here for a few months, before I was told that FM means farm to market. A road that linked rural farmers to the town market places. This instantly made my local area seem much more community oriented. It felt like a connection, a deep seeded history that even now, reverberates in the many small towns across the state.

The second was access roads. The long business clad avenues that parallel the major interstates like I-10. These are basically speedways. They took me awhile to get used to. If you are in the left lane, cars are exiting the interstate and if you are in the right lane they are merging into traffic, from the parking lots that contour the other side. The speed limit is 45 miles an hour and let me tell you, it looks very much like a game of 'Frogger' -cars weaving back and forth in rapid succession. It was amazing to see at first, even with my clenched fists grasping the steering wheel.

Access roads make any of the large Texas cities, feel very crowded and chaotic.This hustle and bustle feels like a bell has rung and a class change is underway. The noise is fluid, ebbing and flowing with the different small groups as they laugh and play. But as the classroom doors are closed, as commuters reach their destinations, there is an energy that remains. The intensity of concentration, the vitality of action, the endurance of city sprawl. It is entrance onto the FM roads where true learning takes place. Where growth leads to wisdom. Where the town square is the center of it all. Gazebo filled parks and mom and pop shops. This is where crowd becomes individual and student body becomes community.

Slowing Down to a Rural Pace

Hallways become highways, classrooms town squares. Lifestyles amplify and intensify. Time seems to dwindle at an astonishing rate.We all need to exit the thoroughfare, travel the FM road and enter our own township. The quiet, idyllic locale where we call home. Where the rustic, simple, gait slows us down so we can enjoy the landscape and venues we seem to miss at our usual speed.

Where we stroll alongside a quiet, country road. Where foot traffic is the pace. Where nothing is expected and the din of city life eases and the stable, wholesome cadence of diversion filters in. Voices are lulling and tranquil. Family is around the dinner table. Electronics are off and conversations are the entree. This neighborhood is small and its residents are related. A Main Street, where the entire town loves to congregate. This is home.

If we remain in the commotion for too long, our senses are dulled. If we keep the acceleration constant, when we brake, it will feel sudden. Our tires will skid. But, if we practice our deceleration, learn to turn in to the skid, we will safely make it to the shoulder. If we keep our eye on the oil gauge and fuel level, we will be prepared for the road trip. These road trips, long weekend drives, these are what keep us healthy, energized and excited to be an educator.

We are educators because we love the journey- the different scenery we view from our vehicles. We are educators because we appreciate the panorama that a school provides: bustling hallways of vibrant faces, the community driven classrooms we inhabit, the programs we can mentor, the relationships we build. Ultimately though, we are all vehicles, travelling at different speeds, intersecting, passing and following one another in an endless labyrinth of roads, avenues and thoroughfares- and this is life. Just make sure you find those dirt roads that lead to nowhere, this is where we relax and refuel. This is where we rediscover why we are educators.