Sunday, March 9, 2014
And then I sit, as my students head off for their spring break, their memoirs in my lap. And I am stunned by the hard work, the right risks, the bold tangents, the questions raised and sometimes answered. They are off. I am here. Their lives on paper.
How they have walked deep among the trees. How they have honored the form, themselves, one another. How deeply privileged I am. Always.
This rare teaching life.
These vast and lovely spring semesters.