Saturday, August 26, 2006
i'm miss mina now, it comes inadvertently out of their mouths. classrooms are always the same; every time i walk into one now i can't help the urge to giggle at myself, standing at the front of the classroom like some important font of knowledge and wisdom when inside i feel like any of the uniformed young 'uns sitting and eyeing me expectantly. my fingers are covered in chalk dust, i write furiously, underlining and drawing boxes around important words as my girls widen their eyes over neruda- "leaning into the afternoon i cast my sad nets/towards your oceanic eyes"- and cast the hooks of their ideas at me. about fifty girls who had never heard of neruda, or plath or atwood- never heard of anyone for that matter; i get to ferry them into pentameter. it's a beautiful feeling to see them leaping alive like bright fish, hands shooting up into the air with the quivering insistence of revelation, drawing sketches of what they hear and finally being able to joke, offering outlandish suggestions like "maybe the lighthouse is where the guy got married and the girl drowned in the ocean he's standing in" and then laughing their heads off when i tell them they sound like a soap opera. they are curious all the time, little birds who can't decide whether to act like the hatchlings they are or fluff up their feathers to fool me.Mina at 11:00 AM
