recalled to life

I'm not dead...yet. Some of you (though not nearly enough of you) have expressed some concern based on my lack of e-mailing and blogging. Communication has been scant, and I will happily attribute that to my lack of rigid structure over the holidays. I am not one of those people who handles loose schedules for very long. I was always the kid who needed clearly laid out boundaries and such. I still have some growing up to do.

But. We are back in school, and I have a purpose to my life again. I am teaching poetry, which is not part of any curriculum we are using, but I cannot imagine having a year void of poetry. So we have been reading some of my favorites: Frost, Hopkins, Shaw, Collins, Blake, and a few others who are interesting for various reasons. This week we will be writing our own poetry, which to me is even more exciting, at least from this teacher's perspective. Why do we learn all those big fancy words? What are dictionaries for? You mean I notice and enjoy beautiful things just because they are beautiful? Why? We get to continue the work begun by Adam when he named his first aardvark. Annie Dillard says, "Beauty and grace are performed whether we will or sense them. The least we can do is try to be there." Poetry, I think, is the practice of "being there." With my students' permission, I will be posting some of the things they write over the next few months. Maybe some of mine, too.

Since it is late and I have a full day with my students tomorrow, I shall sign off.

Lost but not forgotten (I hope).