As my first period takes the first final of Exam Week, I’m reading news updates from Seattle, where a gunman recently opened fire on the campus of my alma mater, Seattle Pacific University. Yesterday, I read this letter to my students, promising that while the general discontent of American Literature is an honest response to…
Tag: teaching
Beyond the Hallways
We’re driving away from our last exploration. Switzerland is damp and cool this April day, unseasonably grey for the spring Senior Day trip to Lucerne. Upon our arrival to this touristic hamlet on the shores of Lake Lucerne, I’d sent them off with a small walking map and instructions that included “walk across the cool wooden…
The Curriculum of Disappointment
“I wish I had a sister like you.” The line hangs in the air, as the reader pauses in disbelief. Junior jaws drop, a few of them shaking their heads, as if to clear away the last line uttered by Jim O’Connor, gentleman caller and secret high school crush of the hopeful Laura Wingfield in Tennessee…
experiments
love is more thicker than forget more thinner than recall more seldom than a wave is wet less frequent than to fail E.E. Cummings Friday afternoon, and I have only three students in my fifth period American Literature class. It is language field trip day, when the French class drives to Dijon, the German class…
What Are We Doing Today?
“Woe to him who strives with him who formed him, a pot among earthen pots! Does the clay say to him who forms it, ‘What are you making?’ or ‘Your work has no handles’?” Isaiah 45:9 Last spring, I contributed a “Teacher Translation Guide” to the yearbook. Mostly satire, it contained phrases that students should never…
Mrs.
“Miss Da–er, Mrs. Gaster?” It’s the merry refrain of the week, echoing from junior after eager junior, accompanied by a waving hand and a pressing question. Unlike their senior counterparts, who use my new name out of self-conscious cuteness, the juniors are trying to get something done. They have questions–now, the last week of the semester,…
In Everything
“What’s Literary Thanksgiving?” they’d asked, curious, seeing the note on this week’s schedule. “You’ll have to wait until Thursday to see,” I replied, cryptic. Then, seeing their expectations, forming like frost on a cold November night, I elaborated. “No, it won’t be food. I mean, you can bring food if you want, but we’ll be…
Always Learning
“Hey, Ms. Dahlstrom…?” He begins asking the question as he walks into Period 6 before class starts, and I look up from where I’m holding a stack of finished essays. I’m only here for a moment, really, just to collect the poetry analysis paragraphs my students wrote last night. As soon as I’ve done that,…
Honorably Imperfect
I was an Honors student. Though it’s been well over a decade since my last advanced class, there are still days when I remember my academic roots. The flash of indignation at the suggestion that my performance was just adequate. The hope that somehow my many busy commitments are evidence of an above-average life. The sting…
Faithful To The Fields
…What we owe the future is not a new start, for we can only begin with what has happened. We owe the future the past, the long knowledge that is the potency of time to come. That makes of a man’s grave a rich furrow. The community of knowing in common is the seed of…
The Way Home 