The silence between the notes

I recently realized that it has been almost 4 months since I posted anything to this blog and to be honest, I was pretty disappointed in that. But  while deleting outdated memos from my cell phone, I discovered about a dozen pieces that I had typed but never posted. Apparently, I never made the time to revise them to the point where I felt comfortable sharing them. So in a last ditch effort to delay the still imminent return from winter break, I decided to revise and share a few of them today.  Although the next five posts all say they were were written today (and with an impressive 35 minutes between them), they were all written in the fall of last year (and over the less impressive span of a few months).

Sometimes they just flow out of me,  like they've been ready all along.  Other times they wander and rush through my head for days, Like they're trying to find each other  In the chaos of emotions  They beat down, befriended, or became along the way.  I am more of a thinker than a writer.  I'm more of a philosopher than a poet. Half the time, I have too many words for my theories.  Half the time, I have no words for my thoughts.  But sometimes words happen.  And sometimes I call it poetry. 

It's a blessing and a curse, really. Starting a new job every single year.  It means a blank slate, a chance to try new methods, to work with new people, to reach new goals. It also means having to rebuild your protocols, your reputation, your curriculum, your timeline, your relationships, your comfort zone. All the excitement and anxiety of starting a brand new job--This hits me every fall as I step back into my familiar yet unpredictable classroom.  I remember the kids that reached their goals and the kids that inspired  me the year before, and I sigh a little because I wish I didn't have to change students again this year. And I remember the kids who didn't reach their goals and those who wore me down, and I wonder, "what if this year's even harder?" I wonder what goals my students will actually reach this year, if we will go deeper or farther than my classes had before, or if this will be the year we don't really succeed. I connect the targets, strateg...

Sometimes sleep isn't just a euphemism.  To sleep, perchance to dream? For in that sleep of death,  what dreams may come? Not the death of a body,  just a day that needs to die.  It used to be a sweet escape,  a peaceful place to hide.  But when daylight nightmares invade your dreams,  where can you escape? I used to dream in nightmares;  Now I dream in days.  If only I could wake  and cease to be afraid...

"If so and so jumped off a bridge,  would you?" "It's called a leap of faith.  You just have to jump." Standing on the ledge.  Heart beating out my chest. Messages mixed and nowhere to go.  I give in, give up, take the risk. Fear, destruction, delivery. Falling, rushing, zooming Toward me, to me, through me. Snap.  Pull.  Reverse.  Delivery, distraction, denial. Slipping, shrinking, gone.  Some tell you not to jump.  Some tell you to jump and believe.  But what happens when you jump  and you believe  and you still end up  back where you started?