Monday, January 08, 2018

Continue

The schoolroom was full of light, yet a bit worn at the proverbial heels. So many anticipations and expectations thwarted or encouraged in the space of 60 minute intervals, day in, day out. Each student wondering: Will this be mentor? Will this be nemesis? Will this teacher "hold forth" or be an "active learner" along side us? Give me your fresh ideas and enthusiasm, share with me your dreams and aspirations, and I will reach deep inside my soul to find my own. The scuffed and chalky floors, the lack of air conditioning, the noise from down the hall won't matter as I am transported through transference to a mystical, magical place full of pure, shared thought.
I stopped my flow of thought for the umpteenth time that day, hell, more like hour. I knew the words wouldn't be there when I turned back to the page. Well, there would be words, but they would be different. The direction would have shifted slightly and the rhythm would have skipped a beat or two. Perhaps the change would be noticed by the reader, perhaps not, but here was a another destination I would miss, another depot without a connection. Laying tracks requires some degree of privacy, I noted, and sounded the whistle.