Has there ever been a better song to accompany us as we embark on a life-changing journey than Simon & Garfunkel’s “America”? When Paul Simon wrote it and he and Art Garfunkel harmonized to it in 1968, I’m not sure what sort of pilgrimage Simon was singing about, but ten years later, when I boarded a bus that would transport me to a new life, his musical message of “America” was urging me on.
Before I tell my story, take a listen to the song and notice how Simon chose to start it: “America” By first humming and strumming its melody, Paul creates a comforting feeling—I’d call it meditative—which makes “America” a perfect soundtrack for someone more than a little nervous about heading off into the unknown.
I’ve never been much of a traveler. We didn’t go on a lot of road trips when I was a kid, but even as an adult I’ve always preferred the familiarity of my home. Despite that, something within me has always recognized when stepping out of my comfort zone is worth the risk. Like spring 1978, when, as a new college graduate, I was itching to find a school that would welcome my unconventional teaching philosophies. I found just such a place in Williamsport, Pennsylvania, 180 miles south of my hometown.
The Williamsport school was founded on principles I believe in. It provides an ungraded, child-centered educational environment that encourages its students, parents and teachers to learn at their own pace. I had lots of ideas of how I thought children learned best, so when I heard about the school and found out they were hiring, I jumped at the chance. But when the call came with an offer to interview, I wondered if I had jumped too far. I was 22 years old and had never been beyond my New York state borders.
My potential move might have been too scary to seriously consider if something beyond an innovative school wasn’t also nudging me to make a change. Along with not having seen the world, I also hadn’t seen all I could be. People knew me as the boy my parents raised who was voted class clown by his school friends. Like many who have longed to discover all that they are, I decided I needed to go somewhere else to find myself. Though Paul Simon shares his hopes with a girlfriend in “America,” it felt like he was singing for me:
“Kathy, I said, as we boarded a Greyhound in Pittsburgh
Michigan seems like a dream to me now
It took me four days to hitchhike from Saginaw
I've come to look for America...”
Looking for America. Isn’t that one of the great things about our country? How we’re free to travel wherever we want, giving us plenty of room to figure out life. That freedom has inspired generations of Americans, and though it may have appeared that those seekers were heading off to dig for gold or claim a plot of land, in reality they were searching for themselves. Simon refers to this truth later in the song, again confiding in his girlfriend:
“Kathy, I'm lost, I said,
though I knew she was sleeping
I'm empty and aching
and I don't know why...”
With those words—empty and aching—Simon captures the challenge each of us face as we enter adulthood. Even when our parents and teachers have provided us with what we need to launch an independent life, we can only fully achieve it by stepping out on our own. I knew I had potential beyond being a funny friend and I believed that I could improve the lives of children, but I hadn’t yet left my comfortable world and tried. Something suggested that maybe I could find clues of who I was in Williamsport.
I was right. The parents of that school were welcoming, and by sharing their life stories they gave me ideas of how I might live mine. The teachers were working with educational philosophies I had only studied in college, modeling how to practice what I preached. The students were bright and engaged in their learning, inspiring me to do likewise. When I returned home after the interview and two weeks later got a call inviting me to teach at the school, I didn’t hesitate to accept the offer.
During the seven years I taught in Williamsport I made lots of trips back and forth between that city and my hometown. Shortly after moving there I acquired a Toyota Corolla, its four-cylinder engine working overtime to carry me back and forth between my new home in the Pennsylvania mountains and my past in Upstate New York. There was always music on those road trips and almost all of them included a listen to Simon & Garfunkel’s “America.” With each excursion, singing its chorus felt like my life was a little more attainable.
“All come to look for America
All come to look for America…”
Though I often saw myself as different growing up, I began to understand how much I had in common with everyone who’s ever embarked on a journey. Yes, moving to Williamsport was almost too far out of my comfort zone, but with Paul Simon as my role model, I found within me the courage to take the chance.
