Saturday, January 11, 2014

So much depends . . .

It's January 11, and fifteen teaching days remain in my current contract. The turn of the calendar has prompted more conversation at home and at work about the coming transition.
I'm a bit surprised by how sad I am. I don't wish the term was longer and I'm anxious to get back to my writing, but I . . . well, I have grown accustomed to their faces.
I've grown accustomed to joyful eyes and the open glow of pride. I've grown accustomed to the radiance of wonder, the twinkle of mischief and the fearlessness of affection.
Yesterday they wrote poems in tribute to William Carlos Williams, my 8,9 and 10 year olds. Here are a few of them, with the permission of the authors, of course, and with a nod to WCW who, I believe would be fine with our form of flattery.

So much depends
upon
the sea;
a surprise to all -
a secret not to be told.
N

So much depends
upon
a journal,
filled with funny stories
to lift your heart
every day.
K

So much depends
upon
a silver fish
leaping from the water
to be seen by
no-one.
B

So much depends
upon
a tree in a grassy field;
the smell of hay
floating through its
red and gold
leaves.
L

With eyes closed, I listened to over twenty poems yesterday and marveled at how such young minds grapple with art, with expression, with their own thoughts.
I visualize myself leaving on January 31, closing the classroom door. Although I will feel sad, gratitude will resonate loudest in my heart because, as with so many of my classes over the years, they've taught me far more than I've taught them.
Monica is the author of "Thanks for chucking that at the wall instead of me."