In my early 30’s I read Ralph Ellison’s Invisible Man. Ellison’s book was on several different lists of greatest books of all time. I managed to read many classics during this time. All the President’s Men, The Executioner’s Song, Ulysses, David Copperfield, and the complete works of F. Scott Fitzgerald, Kurt Vonnegut, and Bill Bryson. Ellison’s Invisible Man, much like Khaled Hosseini’s The Kite Runner enlightened me in ways I had never experienced. I had never really read a book where I was placed into protagonist’s shoes so directly. I became enlightened to the privilege that surrounded me. I was seen for my hard work. I was seen for my skills. Ellison and Hosseini taught me the struggles of their characters in first person. This empathetic experience evolved my teaching practice, my literature selection, and an awareness in general. Yet, I still feel I can do more.

Since turning 50 years of age I have become content in my own company or the company of few. The social ladders that drove me in my 20’s and 30’s just do not matter anymore. I am content to do my work and then pursue other interests… like writing… within my community of self. I have also noticed how society doesn’t see me anymore. I am in an essence becoming invisible. Just like millions of grumpy senior citizens before me. I find the process of this growing invisibility intriguing. I also see my purpose shifting in my work. I desire to make every student in my class or school feel seen. I don’t want them to feel like Ellison’s Invisible Man.

This feeling of invisibility started late last decade. I was participating in a school wide intruder drill with the county’s police department. My shared classroom did not have a working phone or announcement speaker within it. It had been that way for the entire time I had worked there. Our job was to return to our classrooms and go about our day. When we were to hear the announcement on the overhead speaker we were to lock everything up. I returned to my classroom and sat on the stool in front of my band set up. The door was wide open. I never heard an announcement. I just sat there quietly.

After a time a Sheriff’s deputy came running into my room with a weapon (just a dummy,) looking around for someone to shoot. I looked right at him. He didn’t see me. I was 30 feet away. I’m taller than him sitting on my stool. He looked around the room several times. I remained still with my eyes focused on him. He then turned around and ran out of the room screaming the band room was clear to his collaborators. I couldn’t believe it at first. Had a developed a green beret style of blending into my environment? Was my band director wardrobe of a golf shirt and khaki pants really the new urban camouflage? The one time I needed to be seen to get the problems fixed in the room I shared with my choral colleague… …and I am invisible to a deputy sheriff. …why??

During the pandemic the mask made me more invisible. I would go to my pharmacy and I leave six feet of space of privacy for the patron ahead of me and it never fails… someone cuts in front of me… entitlement or invisibility… or both…

I wait in line to talk to my boss and they turn around and leave me after they finished talking to my colleague in front of me. I will sit in the hall providing some support for my colleagues and students will walk by me not even aware that I am there. If anyone needs a security guard that is completely invisible to observe and protect… feel free to contact me…

I could get upset about all of this, but why bother? I’m not going to scream and throw a tantrum like the president. There isn’t any need for that. I have had a full life and career in the spotlight where everyone saw me. I don’t need it anymore. The peace and quiet of this anonymity is quite nice. I’m lucky, I haven’t gone through life being invisible to everyone. Imagine the homeless, how do they feel? What about the child who woke up on their own, came to school and will put themselves to bed hungry because their family doesn’t pay attention to them?

How about the government who is pretending to fix all of their problems by disappearing all of these invisible people on the street. We could take care of them simply by taxing the rich. Greedy bastards… I don’t want any of these people to be invisible. I want them seen. I’m thinking of getting a Mexican Flag Sticker for my car. I think it will make me visible as I waste ICE’s time by pretending I do not understand English.

Here is what I have chosen to do to fight invisibility. It is for my students not me. I want them to know I see them. I get to welcome everyone as they come to school. I give each student a fist bump and a good morning on the way in. I fist bump them on the way into my music class. I see them, and they see me. I get fist bumps all day long. I don’t want any one of my students to feel invisible ever. I don’t want anyone to feel invisible, truly.

I will accept my invisibility as I age. I’m okay with it. I had my privileged time. I do not accept the rationality that everyone else should be invisible though, so I will do my part to shine the light on those that need it the most. I humbly ask that you do the same.

We don’t need to reenact Ellison’s Invisible Man or Dave Matthews Band’s Ant’s Marching.

“Driving along this highway
All these cars end up on the sidewalk
People in every direction
No words exchanged
No time to exchange”

“When all the little ants are marching
Red and black antennae waving
They all do it the same
They all do it the same way” – Remember Two Things, Under the Table and Dreaming (1994) – Dave Matthews Band

…so it goes my friends …so it goes.