I don't think anyone taught me how to make meaning for myself as a child growing up in Pennsylvania public schools.
Day equals meowing cats, I mean, kids. Them acting like chickens and losing myself laughing in front of all of them. Reading the Red Balloon in French and trying to make them listen. Seeing a first grader understand suffering in Africa so that they write "Hope you don't get sick and die" on a dedication for a book that will be sent there.
All this to say, I'm trying to help them in the course of them figuring it out. And I'm lucky I'm along for the ride- even if it involves MUNI bus rides that don't get you where you need to get you on time and pasta from Trader Joe's heated up at the end of the day in a Pyrex.
No comments:
Post a Comment