Teaching has been chaotic recently. The kids are anxious, tired of being trapped indoors, tired of the shape of their desks. And I've felt quiet lately. I love the days that are spent beneath a blanket, the weight of a good book in my hands. And I love the quiet walks with the dogs, the way the world has begun to reveal its colors slowly.
I am thinking so much about this summer and how good it will be for me. I don't know what the MFA program will bring to me, but I do know I don't want to lose my sense of self outside the university. I have a habit of throwing myself into passionate pursuits and letting all else fall away, stripped to the most essential bits. Remember when I first taught? I couldn't stop talking about lesson plans and differentiation and classroom tidbits. Will it be all poetry all the time? I can't say I mind this, but I'd hate to return to that alienating behavior that is all too typical of a new endeavor. All I could think about were MFA programs this late winter--who was taking whom, when I would find out, etc. It's over now, and instead of relief, I find myself calm inside. Like all the anxiety vanished instead of dissipated... Poof. Like it never happened. No sense of mourning or moving on.
Anyway, my point is that I'm grateful I'll be able to spend so much time with your son before I start school. Life has a way of getting chaotic, and we need to bask in these opportunities when we can.
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