Good Book

I know the book

Has me by the eyes

When I cannot put it down

Not to put the trash out

Do the dishes

Grade my papers

Say hello

Or even go to sleep at night

Or if I do

Or must do

These abhorrent things

--Suddenly abhorrent when the other day

I didn't mind at all--

I sigh and bear them

Thinking only of the worlds

I long for

Where each page

Lingers underneath my hair

And quivers there

Vibrating to the shiver of my spine

Yes, I must do the tasks

Assigned to me

But I will do them quickly

Sloppily, if necessary

(Believe me, it is necessary)

For the book

Its depths

Its words

Its roughish pages

Calls.

Walking in the Wet

The streets glisten

Rough-hewn iron

In the rain

No cars

No pets

Only cringing spiders

Webbed in sparkles

Under tree limbs

I watch them

And walk around them

Cautiously

Unwilling to feel the thread

Or their unwelcome legs

Unwilling to harm

Their world

My feet are only noise

Beneath me

My sweat no more a scent

Than newly fallen rain

And we are one

The night and me

Wet, glistening, new

We smile to each other

Knowingly

In parting

As dawn breaks.

Awakening

Funny how my children's sleeping

Wakes me with a snicker

I slip along the hallway to my

Laptop

Waiting

It for me, and I for it

Hours before the sun will rise

My fingers

Long dormant

Curled into my pillow

Itch to press the keys

To get moving

My mind

Buzzing with dreams

And mischief

Longs to blend them both

Together

While all the world sleeps

And keeps me

Awake.

The Moon and I

I walk alone (or think I do)

I walk a solitary night

But then, the moon goes with me, too,

A gliding globe of silver-white.

The world is sleeping (or is dead)

The dark of shadows closes in

But moonlight fills my eyes and head

And lights my path without, within.

I fall asleep despite the moon,

Despite its sifting through my world

And dream of tasks to be done soon

While I sleep tense, my fingers curled.

I wake up feeling lost and torn

Certain that the moon is gone

The sky shows it is early morn

I see the path the sun is on.

But there it is, outlasting night

The moon, my boon companion still

Dimmer in the blue of sky

But never lost, never gone

No matter what new road I'm on

And neither she nor I know why.

Blessed Overachievers

School began Monday, and I am already receiving e-mails and calls from students. Yesterday I had this exchange, by telephone:

Student: Hi, Dr. C. I already e-mailed you, but I wanted to cover all my bases, so I'm calling you, too.

Me: Okay.

Student: I ordered my book a while ago, and it was supposed to arrive today, but it didn't. And we have reading due tomorrow. Is there any way I can borrow a book so that I can complete the reading by class time?

Me: Oh, I wouldn't worry about it. I still have students on the waitlist, and I can't let them in until tomorrow, so they won't have texts yet. I won't be giving a quiz on the reading until next week.

Student: (Silence.)

Me: Okay? Does that help? Don't worry about it. Okay?

Student: Yes, but, you see, I'm an overachiever.

And there is the word, that glorious, happy, fantastic word. If you are not an educator, you cannot understand how much beautiful music this word creates inside me, warming me from my toes to the top of my head. I love all of my students--no, I really do, I'm not joking--but I have an especially soft place in my heart for the overachieving ones. Yes, they call me and e-mail me a lot. They turn in rough drafts (sometimes four of them for a single essay), and that may make them a bit more high maintenance. But they are truly fabulous, and, of course, now I'm going to tell you why.

Reason #1: They don't rest on their talents. If anything, they underestimate how skilled they already are, fearing they are going to fail if they don't work extra hard. Any advice or comment they receive they feel grateful for, take to heart, and strive to work on. And this is such a contrast to those who have talent, but don't use it (so disheartening).

Reason #2: They don't see their learning as my responsibility. If they aren't getting something, they already know it's their job to either figure it out or ask for help. I don't even have to meet these students halfway, for they are working diligently from the first moment they step in class.

Reason #3: They are active learners. They do all their homework, participate in all discussions, and do everything I ask (and often more). And they demand to be taught. Nothing makes them more upset than feeling like they are taking a class and getting nothing out of it. Yes, they want a good grade, but they want that grade to mean something.

Reason #4: Their enthusiasm is contagious. If I have one overachiever in class, by the end of the course I have at least eight, for their resolve and work ethic rubs off on other students. They make me enthusiastic, too, and I start getting bummed when I have a weekend, for it means I won't see them for a few days. Teaching for me is invigorating, and a good class makes it even more so.

So, this morning, I lift my coffee cup to all of those overachievers out there. Here's to you, and may you be an overachiever for the rest of your life!

The Moment

Lists are fine

Make all the lists you want

Plans might set your path for you

But they won't make you

Take that first step.

Write each list out

Memorize it all

Then shred it up

And toss the white confetti

In the air.

Then move it

Start walking

Writing

Dancing

Singing

Doing what it takes

To live right now.

The past is past

The future might be nice

But all that matters now

Is now.

This moment.

You have it

You're alive

You've been blessed

You're lucky

You have great potential

And the world awaits.

What are you doing

Now

To make right now

Your moment?

A Relaxing Beginning

My class starts in about half an hour. I should be nervous. Or at least keyed up or something.

But I'm just sitting here, my stress level at about a two (on a ten-point scale)... nothing to do until class begins...

Why? Several reasons:

1. Preparation. That's all it is. I'd finished my syllabi two weeks ago, sent them off to be copied, and found the neat piles this morning, ready to hand out. All the assignments, readings, due dates, and other elements are organized. Nothing to figure out. Everything is just ready to run, like a well-oiled machine, and I'm looking forward to the adventure, the new students, and pretty much everything (except the grading).

2. Saying no. I turned down a total of four more classes this term, so while I'm surrounded by teachers running around trying to teach 5 or 6 courses, I'm just floating with two (three is full time, and I don't want to teach full time unless I get paid full time). Last fall at this time I was halfway through two courses by now, and I took on four more, finishing them all before December. No, I didn't end up strangling myself before it was over, but I nearly ended up in an asylum.

3. Doing things I love. Yes, instead of thinking about school starting yesterday, I painted. And when I get home this afternoon, I'll be working more on my novel. And playing piano. And reading. Anything I can do to make sure I enjoy the day as well as work through it.

I hope you are as relaxed as I. I hope that knot right below your shoulder blade eases itself out, and you can just chill with a lemonade this afternoon. That's what I intend to do.