Chasing Longs Peak
Driving to dinner as a kid, looking out the window, and none other than the moon is following your car. Like, you press your finger to the glass to see if it moves spots– nope. A hard fought battle of this perpetual follower, to be won by a right hand turn. And yet, it’s still there, watching the car pull into Mexican town for beans and rice. Each day, it disappears.
I have something more reliable than the moon– Longs Peak. From the instant I moved out here, the 14,259’ skyscraper has peered its watchful eyes over the foothills, always visible. Even at the cusp of night, it greedily soaks up the sun and leaves a definable absence. At risk of being redundant, due to the amount of stars we get at night, you can tell where the peak starts just by the velvet black that takes its place.
There are three places I frequent, and find myself looking up to Longs. The first being my classroom– my two west-facing windows are the only windows in the school where the mountain is visible. When snow hits, we make a point to run to the glass as the mountains get covered first.
The next place is CSU, more specifically the walk to the rec center. Tucked into the left corner of the foothills, Longs just barely gets its head over. You can make out the diamond, a face of the climb that looks like a chipped tooth. Mt. Meeker is right next to Longs, slightly shorter, but very profound from this walk. I take a breath before going to the gym to stare at it. Just stare.
The in-betweens. A block from the school is the perfect view of sunrise hitting the peak, I always hit it right at 7:18am. I slow to a measly 15 mph, and roll down the passenger window. Every morning. On the way to skiing, the mountain fades as other 14ers begin to take up space, but the sunrise hits it nonetheless. It frames Horsetooth–cupping the reservoir below it.
I get home at 4 each day, and these days, have about 45 minutes of true sunlight to squeeze. In a more real way than Longs, I chase that sunlight and work to feel it on my face. Recently I’ve been skipping a snack and sitting down JUST to get out and move under the sun. I walk, bike, run, sprint, skip, dance. I talk on the phone, listen to nothing, or stare at Longs. All with a kiss on my cheek.
Chasing sunlight is nothing new for me personally, but its power has grown stronger as of late. Instated January 21st, an executive order now allows ICE to enter schools, among a stronger presence in communities and a green light on stops. I was the first to bring this up to my admin and district, with worried teachers flanking me. We met with lawyers, district officials, case workers. Students former and current asked me about the new law, the new stress on their families. Although my instructions were to not speak of it– we went over red card rules and emotional check-ins. This was last week. IE, not more than six days ago.
A day ago my students family was ripped apart in a (previously) illegal stop by ICE, permanently changing this young student to whom I am very close to.
Frankly, and legally, I cannot share more than that.
I can, however, share that sunlight is needed. It is needed so very badly, not just for that student and their family, but for the many working with case workers, being forced out of homes, being told to go elsewhere. I truly believe my classroom, as well as the whole school, has moved away from curriculum and bullshit toward love and support– this is the biggest moment where ‘classrooms are a safe space’ truly hit home for me. Through the tears, hugs, kneeling down to be eye-to-eye, the lawyer calls, district threats, and news anchors pounding on the doors– Longs stood idling at the windows. My windows.
This mountain is not my mecca. I’ve actually been to the summit, back in August. I stayed the night in the boulder field, where I shared some whiskey with new friends. While on the summit, I looked down, knowing a year of my life laid before me… I couldn’t see a damn thing past the rolling mountains. It will be the only time I’ll ever look down at that mountain.
This mountain, the highest of all within 100 miles of Fort Collins, is my damn T.J. Eckleburg.
I shared recently that I will be really proud of myself in a few years when I look back at 23-year-old me working at this school, so tired and broken yet addicted to it. I imagine the 25 year old version of me confused at why I spent all this time, energy, emotion at this silly Title school.
Rather than standing for moral decay1, I believe Longs has watched my morals be shaped and tested. I chase it in the same way you chase greatness, never to be reached or conquered. Never to prove yourself, or to show off. It’s a crutch– a reminder of humanity and humility. I qualified for the Fulbright semifinals, sending me into the next round of review to see if I’ll be teaching in Georgia2 next year. This happened right before I met with lawyers, protective services, and students needing hugs and love. It is damn interesting how the world works with that kinda thing.
As Longs continues to frame my windows and tribulations, it makes a grand statement. You are infinitely more significant than you realize- only something as large as a mountain makes you feel so small, yet so impactful.
Ok, Gatsby wasn’t the best analogy here. But c’mon… a watchful eye? Something I look to in moments of need? All the pieces were there.
The country.