After three days of fairly unbearable heat, the winds came in and brought with them rain clouds to cool us off. Along with it came an organ shivering thunder that you felt before you heard. Followed by a true downpour that lasted all too briefly.
Once I got my students safely occupied in groups, I gazed out the window. There was a green veil of leaves and branches that draped over the windows, filtering the pale light of the cloudy day into the room. And I felt as I always do when I look through that particular window; the strong desire to sit hidden from everyone, nestled up against the wall, beneath the branches of the rhododendron or whatever sort of large bush it is.
There is a primeval feel to those bushes that draws me, despite the fact that they and the building are only a few yards from the road and all the trappings of "civilization". They emit a feeling of seclusion and safety which never fails to speak to me. Some days, I can watch a squirrel tumble around the branches. Other days, it's a raven looking in through the window. Whatever is present creates a feeling of connection in me on a deep level that requires no words to achieve intimacy.
My students are always oblivious to what is going on out the window behind them. And I, selfishly perhaps, keep it for myself.
Teacher Voices: Stewart Matthews - Here's another post in my continuing series on teacher voices. I'm interviewing some of my former students who have gone on to become teachers. In this po...
5 days ago