Can you believe it? Twice each week I go to a correctional facility and teach Adult Education. My afternoon is split in half as the women and men are not allowed to occupy the space at the same time. I’m finding the students to be very respectful and sincerely interested in working towards their GEDs. I truly enjoy my time with them!

I’ve always believed people are people…but I must admit before I first came to teach I had images of Hannibal Lector with his mask and talking about fava beans. I wondered if students would get violent with me. I wondered if some might not like having a white instructor (the inmates are all Native American). The truth could not be further from the Hollywood image or my own ignorance.

I find my time in class relaxing. Yesterday I did some practice testing with students and found myself pacing the floor as I finished reading Frank McCourt’s Tis. The room is barren except for a stack of grey pads in one corner, the long row of tables and chairs filled with orange garbed ladies. There is a window high on one wall which is likely ten inches high by thirty-five or so inches wide. From where I stand I get a perfectly framed vision of Mesa Verde in the distance; it appears like a very realistic landscape image and I breathe out deep.

The class is considered a privilege and I think the students see it that way. I admit there are things I’ve done in my life which might have gotten me in jail- nothing too serious. Anyhow, I keep my time and materials as organized and simple as I can. I try to determine the students’ need and point them in the right direction.

I learn as much from my students as they learn from me.  I asked if they were allowed to talk with each other when they are in their cells. “We speak into the vents,” one shared.  I guess it is a little like the movies.

The time goes by quickly and soon I find I am reaching for the button alongside of the door. I know someone is watching me from behind a mirrored wall. “It’s Joe in the GED class. We’re done for the day.” The students return their chair into a stack in the corner and file out to walk through the metal detector. I sort my stacks of papers and fill the handled file box. Out the door, down the hall, I buzz my way through a number of doors and out into the world again. Beyond the parking lot, an old mare chews on a tangled mass of sage. This is a fine life, I decide.

I grabbed a book off one of the shelves in the learning center where I work (I wanted something to read while proctoring a practice GED test to an adult student). Titled Living in the Now and recommended by Oprah (notice how I don't even need to say a last name), I decided it was worth a look.

I found myself pulled into the concepts presented. In simple words salvation is found when we "let go" and "live in the now." Surrender is the same as releasing the ego. I know I feel better when my ego goes to sleep and life accelerates. 

This morning I was in the laundry mat. The ceiling fans like Wonka-ish daisy heads spin above the hum, spin cycle, wash whirl and coin into the catch jingle. Quiet dramas act out in the birthing of sheets, shirts and skirts pulled from the dryer. I sit at the industrial-grade table and speak with two women who work at the mat. Politics, gardening and the meaning of the Cortez Journal (mostly ads and angry words we decide). The connections are worth as much as the clean laundry. 

I live off these words- God has a plan and doing laundry is part of it.

I’ve been house-hunting for over 6 months now. My Realtor has been more than helpful in finding properties for me to consider. Some are shacks, some are abandoned bad chi domains and some are possibilities.

Several weeks ago, Judy took me to an interesting place with many pluses. Located in-town, this house is definitely a fixer-upper. The house is old (which I like), has some unique architectural features, is on a big lot, has an outbuilding, and is in a fairly quiet neighborhood; these are the pluses.

Concerns are many. I already know the house needs to be rewired and the heat system is propane (not ideal). I wonder about the structural elements. I also wonder about toxic levels (you might have guessed I’d head in this direction).

After making an offer and accepting a counter-offer, I hopped onto finding a home inspector and getting some of the toxicity possibilities tested. I’ve already tested for mold spores and found it isn’t an issue. This evening I’ll collect the radon test materials to send for lab analysis. I also plan to call the electrical company to see if they’ll test EMF from back pole (there’s a buzzing box above the back shed).

I’m ready to have my own space. I deserve it. This house may prove to be my future home or it may show itself to be a lemon. I should know this week.

The process brings to mind the need for our homes to be healthy. It’s not a new issue. If you find yourself in a similar situation, shop around for an inspector who can find any clues to toxins in the structure and property. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again- if my home is healthy and happy, so am I.