You Are Here

I'm overdue for a new blog series.

So, here we are. And I am here.

I'm going to be in Colorado for a while - a long while. And it's time to stop sitting in my house. That's not helping anyone.

So I'm going exploring. Interior exploring. It's really symbolic, but that doesn't matter.

First stop: Colorado Springs Visitor Center.

I gave myself a pep talk as I walked up to the brick building. 'Sloan, you're going to have to TALK to people. That's how this kind of stuff happens. Don't just wander around, say something!'

The greeter's name was Olive. I introduced myself.

"One of my friends is coming to the Springs on Saturday, and she's been here before, so I was looking for something, you know, unique to do."

Her ideas included the money museum, an exhibit about Biblical documents, and Cripple Creek.

"Just throw a quarter in one of the slots at Cripple Creek. You might become a millionaire!"

I wasn't exactly encouraged, but I thanked her and took the visitor's guide.

Time to go with route two: the Carnegie Library downtown. They have all of the historical documents and travelogues. None of the materials circulate, no backpacks or pens allowed, and the librarians wear ties. At least, the two male librarians who were working the desk wore ties.

It's all very official.

After stuffing my backpack in a locker, I wandered around the stacks.

I was looking for a mystery. Somebody's lost grave, or trek across the country, or abandoned house...

Instead, I stumbled across the official proposal for the charter school that I attended from kindergarten to graduation.

I decided to sit with it on the floor for a few minutes. Ask it a few questions.

I flipped it open. The mission statement:

The Classical Academy exists to assist parents
in their mission to develop exemplary young citizens
with superior academic preparation
equipped with analytical thinking skills,
a passion for learning, and virtuous character,
all built upon a solid foundation of knowledge. 

My first impulse was cynical: 'Well, my "solid foundation of knowledge" didn't exactly help while the bottom was dropping out of my life.'

The school didn't prepare me for failure. I didn't prepare me for failure. It's a stupid thing to complain about, but things were too perfect.... all built upon a solid foundation of knowledge.

No, it's not something I can blame on the school. It's not an excuse, but it is a piece of the "why."

I turned back to the task at hand. The proposal included curriculum, so I searched through it for Colorado History. I was curious: I don't know much, but what was I supposed to know about it, anyway? I was supposed to understand colloquialisms like "birthday suit" by grade 5, understand basic animal classification by grade 3, and complete an exercise in orienteering in grade 2. I actually remember that last one - running around on the dirt playground with cheap compasses, hopelessly lost.

Nothing about Colorado History.

What an interesting place to start my Colorado exploration. Ground zero.

I thought about driving up to the high school, sitting on the top of my car and looking at it, making my peace with whatever bitterness or angst I have towards it. Forgiving it. Letting it forgive me.

Then I remembered that the high schoolers would be getting out of finals around the time that I could make it to the school.

I want to explore, yes, but that one has a little too much risk involved. At least right now.

After I went home, I looked through my third grade history journal, positive that we must have covered Colorado History at some point...

We did. Now I know that the state dinosaur is the Stegosaurus. Boom.