Chapter SixSchools Are More Dynamic: Mess, Noise, and Chaos
We Southern Californians pay a price for our perpetual summer, our spring in February and balmy Thanksgivings. We never get to see the blazing fire of autumn’s last gasp as it ripples across the deciduous belts of the Northeast, the Mid-Atlantic, and the South. The locals there yawn at the early days of the annual classic, waiting for that week of high color when the reds are brighter than blood and the yellows chase away the pedantic greens of summer, and then they are gone, blown across old byways, cold streams, and rocky hillsides by the first stiff winter winds.
My timing was perfect. I drove through the wild, rich variety of high color for almost six weeks, following the tide ...
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