This is not an allusion and I can see the light. I have had to power up in the most heady kind of way. Nearing the end of the semester, my students have bombarded me with their last minute essays, essays that were due days ago, essays due within hours. The telling part about today’s younger generation is they expect us English tutors to panic with them. And some do act like it’s my responsibility that their papers are due within hours and they are not “fixed.” Some come in without a thesis idea or topics and believe they can whip out a paper within hours. Fortunately, I have a group that prepares well in advance and will bring their essays to me up to the final moments. The most interesting papers this semester have been on Ibsen’s A Doll House. Students have supported Nora to the end. I wanted desperately to read an essay where a student disagrees with her leaving her children and husband. But it just goes to show how Chopin Ibsen and Glaspell characters are timeless. Yes, even Mrs. Wright received accolades for her crime. On another note, Tennessee’s Amanda…..wow! Most students found her character rather annoying and well a little manic. They ranted and gave strong personal opinions about Amanda and I had to remind them to keep it academic. And by the end, I felt terribly bad for Amanda. Students refused to sympathize with her. When I teach my workshop on how to write a research essay, it’s so difficult for me to not go on a tangent and talk about well….characters and literature. I was recently chided for going over my time limit for teaching the class. But when I read essay after essay after essay after essay, I have to find ways to charge up---it’s my duty to read the best and the worst and even the irrelevant. Yesterday, I forgot how to spell 'prosperity'.
Now that summer is just around the corner, I will have every Friday off and will enjoy every second, shopping at garage sales, then selling at the big flea market with my love, and practicing my Spanish. This time is my vacation!
It's May 2012 and nothing has changed since November.11. I am all smiles at my relationship and myself. My honey and I continue to amaze each other on a daily basis. We're still ever so 'in' with each other. I completed my MA in literature last May and I'm teaching four college English courses to really smart students. I am hopeful to enter a doctorate program soon. This way, I can run out.All is scary good.
upon hearing your voice life again expands like moon crest like pomegranates swell to the sun and you are patient because god calls
when he came for you this morning you were bent into the flower bed singing black hymns so he left you alone until this third afternoon but even then he found you elbow deep in jewel weed with a mouthful of figs from a nearby tree again he waited because each time seemed to him an inconvenience and a wrong moment
and it was your persistent humming that drove him up and back until he could get his timing perfect he waited another day or so until
your gardening tools rest into porch corners your paring knife shines deeply into a drawer your hair comb lies slanted in a shoebox your wedding band hides in the mattress your fishing rod stays stolen
the sound of your voice desires to sing or hum but this time is perfect he has covered you like lavender-colored silence but he has also added streaks of olive green and pink because this is what the other soul-folk has told him to do and he has become tired in the process and therefore begins to rush sonances of your body he finds you the least complex when you are not outdoors digging in that garden, humming hymns and thriving and for a moment he questions his own timing its perfection and everything goes accordingly until he finds you have buried fruit peels and wandering jew petals underneath your back this does not anger him but it tilts his agility to deliver you and in his own questioning and presence of smells that he cannot privilege all this over powers his choice all this reels his otherwise perfection into letting you go
when i see you sitting in the plush squares of limitless St. Augustine your eyes are lit like crystal warmed soil releases from each of your hands
how did i get to this point this point of knowing you for you are nearly a century old