I had a lot to say this morning, but now I feel a bit dry.
I watched my grade eights play in the playground this morning as the sun was rising. They laughed and giggled and breathed easy for the first time in weeks.
Back in class, they explored the themes in The Outsiders, The Giver, Night and they began to question why Alexander Supertramp would ever give up so much comfort for some much wilderness.
The advanced one knew so much, how could I help her? We talked about her reading Little Bee, Sixty Lights, Speak and Half Yellow Sun. She mentioned her exploration of gender and race and colonialism; I bought up the patriarchy and her role in our Daraja GC.
I said it seemed that she was very attuned to noticed how characters and people, young women in particular, truly become themselves in a male dominated world. She nodded knowingly.
“Can you write about that for a while?” I asked?
She nodded.
“Think of what you have learned about European colonialism in Africa from the books you have read and what you know about the British in India and all you know about what it means to be a young women in 2016 and write me something that explains what you think about all that. You are a very analytical and logic person. Forget all that. Find your voice and anger. Let’s see what that sounds like.
I haven’t read what she wrote yet. I'll keep you posted.
There was so much I wanted to tell her. I saw her future in that brief moment. I saw her in college dorm rooms, lectures, spoken word sessions. She will learn so much more. I can only see her at the threshold of childhood, so filled with promise. I wanted to let her know that her ideas would carry her to unknown territories.
…
After school, I rehearsed for my performance in front of students next week. I strummed a song and sang. My knees were shaking as I tried to lose myself and not focus too much on getting it right, but actually letting the song fill the room.
…
Tonight needed a drink and some friends. I found them on Bedok Reservoir. We threw the Frisbee. We shot the shit. We laughed. I washed the week away, and now I am squeezing these words out of the void. Drip by drop.
Another Friday night, Another week. Another year…sleeping into infinity.
Lessons Learned:
I watched my grade eights play in the playground this morning as the sun was rising. They laughed and giggled and breathed easy for the first time in weeks.
Back in class, they explored the themes in The Outsiders, The Giver, Night and they began to question why Alexander Supertramp would ever give up so much comfort for some much wilderness.
The advanced one knew so much, how could I help her? We talked about her reading Little Bee, Sixty Lights, Speak and Half Yellow Sun. She mentioned her exploration of gender and race and colonialism; I bought up the patriarchy and her role in our Daraja GC.
I said it seemed that she was very attuned to noticed how characters and people, young women in particular, truly become themselves in a male dominated world. She nodded knowingly.
“Can you write about that for a while?” I asked?
She nodded.
“Think of what you have learned about European colonialism in Africa from the books you have read and what you know about the British in India and all you know about what it means to be a young women in 2016 and write me something that explains what you think about all that. You are a very analytical and logic person. Forget all that. Find your voice and anger. Let’s see what that sounds like.
I haven’t read what she wrote yet. I'll keep you posted.
There was so much I wanted to tell her. I saw her future in that brief moment. I saw her in college dorm rooms, lectures, spoken word sessions. She will learn so much more. I can only see her at the threshold of childhood, so filled with promise. I wanted to let her know that her ideas would carry her to unknown territories.
…
After school, I rehearsed for my performance in front of students next week. I strummed a song and sang. My knees were shaking as I tried to lose myself and not focus too much on getting it right, but actually letting the song fill the room.
…
Tonight needed a drink and some friends. I found them on Bedok Reservoir. We threw the Frisbee. We shot the shit. We laughed. I washed the week away, and now I am squeezing these words out of the void. Drip by drop.
Another Friday night, Another week. Another year…sleeping into infinity.
Lessons Learned:
- Some students will blow your mind be ready to lead them further.
- No matter how much you play, you will always be nervous.
- Tell us about someone who blew your mind this week.
- What did you do this Friday night?
I've been meaning to say Jabiz how much I am enjoying this blog spurt; I hope it does not become a burden.
ReplyDeleteI'm also excited your students are reading Into the Wild. I was in my late 20s when I got it and am a huge fan of Krakauers writing (his book on Pat Tilman was another post life look into an a fortunate death).
My mind was blown by a recommendation to read Steven Crane's "The Bride Comes to Yellow Sky" which in about 4500 words turns the western story inside out.
Friday night was just a chill relax, talking to a good friend on Skype, editing photos, playing a little guitar (trying to figure out Beck's "Farewell Ride"), and my usual late evening dip in the hot tub under a starry sky.
You did ask, right?
Thanks for reading and the support Alan. Not a burden yet, we'll see how long it lasts, but I am hoping for one a day all year. I'm finding it nice to force myself to sit and reflect at the end of each day no matter what happened that day, and non-dependent on how I am feeling.
ReplyDeleteKrakauer is one of my favours too. Loved the Tillman book so much I bought his jersey. Still waiting to read his latest on Missoula.
Nice to hear from you. Feels like it's been a while.