Purgatory

As a non-Catholic, I have always been a little fuzzy on what Purgatory is—is it a place, a condition, a state, a process? I am not quite sure. But as a metaphor, I think I know what it is like: chaperoning school trips.

My speculation about purgatory is that it is when one’s soul waits upon word or approval about the destination of Heaven or Hell. It is a state of waiting, I imagine, and one’s soul just never knows. Things might be going just great—and then Purgatory, and you wait and see.

Such is the state of chaperoning a school trip. You may take wonderful students, but until you return those precious ones to their families from the point of embarkation, you just never know. And take it from someone who has chaperoned more than three dozen school trips—I can assure you of this: there will be waiting.

Last week in Boston, on Saturday and Sunday, our congressional delegates had to be in committee sessions at 9:00 a.m. Well, on that first day of such an early call, I passed by each door of our KA students’ rooms, knocking and offering morning cheeriness. One room I must have knocked on the door 10 times, then went back to my room and called Room 1763 three separate times. Can you imagine not hearing knocking or phone calls? Eventually they got up, got dressed, and performed their congressional duties. I implored the mock congressional representatives to be a little more responsible on Sunday morning.

On Sunday afternoon I organized a trip to the Museum of Fine Arts. I gave them one hour to go up in the hotel elevators and change their clothes to more casual fare. Nearly thirty minutes after that deadline we finally had a quorum and could go…waiting…hurry up and wait…the mantra of group travel. Either because I am the chaperone, or because I am German, I am always punctual (maybe because I am both I have a double-whammy sense of time…) and I always have to wait.

The tour of the museum was quite nice, however. Very few of the students had ever been to an art museum before. There really aren’t encyclopediac art collections like the Boston’s famed Museum of Fine Arts in Jordan, and I wanted them to have a taste of how one can see an art museum—going for just one hour. I showed the students some pieces from the Egyptian wing, some of the wonderful pieces of the colonial art section (the sumptuous Copley portraits among them) and a few pieces of 19th century European art. Who doesn’t love a Monet?? On the way back a number of the students thanked me for the trip and they enjoyed their time. One student asked why Jordanians don’t like history as much as Bostonians. Ahhhh….see, from this moment of purgatory one would feel a tug toward Heaven and that state of grace.

On Monday I fought for a study hall so the students could work on school work (some acted like they had never heard of school before!) before their final little gasp of shopping and American food. I arm-wrestled thank-you notes out of them for our sponsors as well. As they merrily made off for the many malls of central Boston, I reminded them our vans arrived at the Sheraton that afternoon at 3:30 sharp to take us to the airport in Boston.

When I returned to the hotel about 3:10 a handful of students were already there. Good—we are making progress! The vans arrived on time, with nice drivers Bob and Jose making cheery small talk. 14 of our group was exactly on time—but a contingent of 7 boys did not arrive.

Purgatory. What students don’t know, of course, is that arriving on time is not just about being a good little boy or girl and following instructions. When someone on a trip is late, especially at such an important time as leaving for the airport, any chaperone would worry. A chaperone has to think up a Plan B or a Plan C to deal with whatever emergency has arisen. You have to imagine what to do with the rest of your group, how you will solve the problem, find the body, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.

These young men arrived 30 minutes late. I had heard they were in the Cheesecake Factory restaurant enjoying yet another lunch. That was a 5-minute walk away from the hotel, and yet no one ran over to simply say they were running late. No one took advantage of my US cell phone to call and give me a heads up (several of them had US cell phones, and all were turned off in those moments). Bob and Jose were getting antsy—they had other pick-ups they reminded me.

None of the seven young men offered an apology either. What I have gleaned from my time in the Arab world, and had confirmed by other teen-agers here, is that when they think they have disappointed you, they are so ashamed, too ashamed, to offer an apology. Okay. Interesting.

We made it to the airport, but it was just another example of the purgatory of chaperoning.

I wrote an email to the young men the following day, just to explain why I had been mad at them. First of all, since they were late, there was no time for a group photo, and no chance to have a final word with the group and offer compliments for their fine work in Boston. Their appalling lateness was the final image of our trip. And of course I hoped to remind them we have the choice and the responsibility to be punctual and considerate. Since we were in Boston, I even called on the words of native son, John F. Kennedy (why not have a history lesson too??). When JFK explained why the United States was working to send a man into outer space he said, “We choose to go to the moon, and other things, not because they are easy, but because they are hard.” The United States responded by doing the hard thing. “My challenge to you young men is to choose to act unselfishly and in a considerate manner, not because it is easy, but because it is hard. And right to do so,” I wrote in my email, trying to banish the ghosts of that purgatory.

This week I was thinking about the metaphor of purgatory, and waiting, and realized that February always seems to be a time, a season, of waiting. In the academic world of prep schools, it is when teachers are waiting to hear about jobs. In the last few weeks, I have had several dear friends eagerly awaiting the news about new positions and new chapters in their lives.

Waiting often feels biblical, like when Noah and Sarah and Jacob had to wait in the Old Testament times. In one of my favorite plays, I Never Saw Another Butterfly, the character of Irena says to Raja: “Waiting days are long days, Raja.”

Tonight our students are waiting for snow. Snow in the kingdom will mean a delay tomorrow of the beginning of final exams for the second term. The mood of waiting is permeating all through the dorm. And of course February is when we are waiting for winter to slide into spring, and waiting for the refreshment of that spring.

I looked up “purgatory” on Wikipedia, and while I know it is a dubious source, it had some interesting thoughts about the nature of this “institution.” According to the Catholic scholar who authored the citation, purgatory is a “process of purification.”

I like that much more. Instead of a kind of torment, purgatory purifies us, as we wait.

So chaperoning a trip purifies the soul? Hmmmmm…