Oh Thursday, thank you Thursday. I cannot believe you're almost Friday, though I am starting to get into the groove of teaching. It's not the easiest position to figure out, sometimes it's first and sometimes as radically different as first position to seventh. I suppose though that there are patterns to follow, and ways to make it smoothly from first to seventh. It's nice right now though being somewhere in between; my students are starting to feel more comfortable around me. Today one of my younger students was so excited about getting a crossword puzzle in an upcoming class that he followed me as I made my way to the bathroom before class. At first I misunderstood him, and I thought that he was asking for a party in class, and I told him that there wouldn't be a party today, but then he corrected me, and said, "NO puzzle, not party!" It was really cute, but I had to poop for the first time in three days, so it was kind of an awkward moment too.
I really like my younger students as their engery is infectious, though my junior high students are pretty insightful, and I think that they are really starting to think about life. Today I accidently sighed in the middle of a listening tape, and one of my students looked at me and said, "Why teacher? Why?" with such exasperation. I answered, "I don't really know." It felt like a very philosophical moment for the both of us, and it is a moment that I will probably keep in my pocket for a while.
"Why?" is such a common question, and there is so little that can be said for an answer. Really, the answer to "Why?" can only be broken down so much. And at times the answer isn't even halfway legitatimate, probably never fair.
I'm really getting a lot out of this, and it's only the end of my second week here. I can't explain all of the thoughts that have made their way through my mind, but most of these thoughts have surfaced because something was expressed to me through simple body language or through a simplified version of the English language.
English is so strange, not just literature, but the language's entirety. There are so many idioms and unexplainables that are embedded in so many years. Here, I only have a small version to offer, as I am young, and not with a full understanding of the history, but I do have enough of myself and my understanding of communication to fill many cups, and many, many glasses of wine. This I will do.
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2 comments:
I am checking this everyday, keeping up with you. It is fascinating to read about what it is like. I need more description though!
Miss you tremendously!
Friday won't deliver me any faster than Thursday has, and for that matter, I could walk to where I needed to be, and started that trek when the birds left town three days ago, but the prevailing winds favor wings over whimsy and that was eighteen hours and three towns ago. Of course, with a small amount of hand in hat and loosely arranged chicanery I was able to require the nessecary information, the information I need to put my nerves at rest, and leave town tomorrow. As a matter of schedule, and routine, supposedly, the northbound freight to Port Hawkesbury leaves promptly at 9:30 every morning, and luckily enough, is situated right next to a public bike path. From there, if you want to get to the end of the line, literally, the eastern most rail line, no passenger service available, in North America, you have to wait for the bi-weekly train that comes south from sydney, wrapping it's consist around Lake Bras D'Or until it unfurls in Port Hawk, and then returns to Northern Nova Scotia where trains stop and terminal velocity lands in the ocean. Mediums mutate and I'll finally change my socks.
But those birds back in the subway were emissaries, at least. Even though the wind would howl through most stops on the NewCastle Loops, it would't touch their tail feathers, without the gentle and deliberate assistance of imagination.
It's funny. I was at a cafe the other day, meeting with Native Scotians who have never left the province. It's an intriguing world here, and old world, sort of. There's a lot of tradition in Acadia, some of it speaks french, some of it maintains gardens, some of it serves Scottish food and some of it snaps it's fingers to antiquated rythmns. But these people, I asked them, "Have you ever seen a cactus?" They were sort of confounded, "well sure, in pictures, we've seen them, but not here, not up here, up north."
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