"To laugh often and much;
to win the respect of intelligent people
and the affection of children;
to earn the appreciation of honest critics
to appreciate beauty;
to find the best in others;
to leave the world a bit better
whether by a healthy child,
a garden patch, or a
redeemed social condition;
to know even one life
has breathed easier
because you have lived.
This is to have succeeded."
--Ralph Waldo Emerson

Exams begin today. I wish I could explain or describe the static, floating feeling that comes over the classrooms during exams. There is the expectation of the holiday--effervescent, prickly, almost. The drone of silence, when the heated air pushed through dusty vents is deafening. Heads are bowed in what looks like determined, stubborn prayer. Some students look absolutely pained.
When I took education courses in college (between Pottery and Creative Nonfiction--classes which have proved sooo helpful in life, just like Dad said!), I remember writing a paper describing how I see my classroom setup: I said that even in test time, I did not want a silent classroom--I wanted to hear pens moving excitedly, sounds of realization (I think in Educational Psychology that's called the "click of knowledge." I know foreign languages have oral exams, I wish we could talk about literature. Then again, when I had my final oral exams in college, where I was shut in a room with two professors for two hours to tell them everything I knew about British and American Literature, I felt physically ill.
But with exam time, and the close of this year, there is a sense of reflection, of going back--reviewing the tapestry of our Days. There are common threads of Creation and renewal in most, but it's in the lookback that brings clarity.
How thankful I am to have the challenge and delight of teaching literature here! From the first, I have felt a sense of welcome and humor that keep me afloat, and keeps my heart laughing and my soul awake. There is a certain holiness to seeing the same set of students each day; to discuss a poem like diving into a wreck of words, shifting them around and finding something salvageable and gorgeous; to finding things to talk about for 50 minutes (I thought before I started that would be impossible); to sensing change in my class after a bad day or when no one has done their homework; to leaving each day feeling changed and accomplished (sometimes hugely, others by simply moving forward)....
I could continue. God is doing Good Work, and I see it and praise my Creator for where I am. I feel hopeful for the unnamed what-is-to-be in my life. I often feel there are gifted parts of me and I don't know how I am to use them--what is my purpose? But it's in a moment like this one that I know I move daily closer to that goodness and fulfillment.