Thanks, Lacy Pitts @pacylitts

I was called out last night. It must have bothered me because I awoke at 2:30 this morning in a cold sweat, tossing and turning in a fit of guilt and anxiety that would not let me rest. I tried to coax sleep back to my bed, willing my eyes to remain closed while behind those fitful eyelids danced images of failure and frustration. Tortured and tormented, I lifted myself from my useless cocoon of slumber and resigned myself to a long day, thanks entirely to a cruel jab on social media that shined a light on my failure as a writer, a teacher, and, in essence, a man.

Thanks Lacy Pitts.

Maybe I exaggerate, just a bit. It was awake a 2:30 am. I did toss and turn before giving up and getting up just after 3:30. I was not thrown into turmoil by a tweet by young Miss Pitts. I am not really sure what woke me and kept me from falling back into sleep, but I suspect the second enchilada may have had a part in the process. Perhaps another bill making its way through the dual houses in Topeka started my mind turning. Shoot; the Governor may have introduced another education bill for discussion about the time I gave up on sleep. To paraphrase Hamlet, now, in the darkness of night, is the best time to do dirt, to undertake deeds that would force one to blush in the light of day. Of course, that idea assumes that said individuals are actually capable of feeling embarrassment and shame. Evidence would indicate some of our "leaders" have lost such ability.

So no, I should not blame Lacy Pitts and her tweet calling me out for not blogging enough for my inability to settle gently into the peace of sleep. However, I will thank her for nudging me to work toward clicking "Publish" once again.

So, instead of filling my mind, and yours, with more images of sleazy politicians masquerading as social and economic scientists gathered in a back room filled with cigar smoke and the stench of failed "experiments", passing money from pocket to pocket and chuckling about the ignorant fools who actually put them in the position to achieve, well, whatever it is they think they are achieving for the state of Kansas, I will compose incredibly long and rambling sentences that even Vicki Jewel would find challenging to diagram, sentences that turn our thoughts toward more cheerful ideas and more energizing ambitions.

Ironically, I turn to my classroom for such inspiration. My honors sophomores are studying poetry, you see. Currently, they are attempting to create audio-visual products which bring to life extended metaphors that they fashioned to create images of school. The assignment is inspired by Emily Dickinson's "'Hope' Is a Thing with Feathers", Pink Floyd's "Another Brick in the Wall", and Shane Koyczon's "To This Day".

This project can be a minefield at times, but it can aso allow some students to blossom. "Writer what you know" is how the old saying goes, right? We did discuss cliques this year, and I was hoping to avoid the yearly nugget "School is a prison." I pointed out that that metaphor may have outlived its usefulness and has lost its value due to overuse as an expression of young hyperbolic angst. "Elsinore is a prison" muttered the inky-cloaked Hamlet, and ages later he was echoes by Will Farrel's "This house is a prison!" in Stepbrothers. If that sentiment is in fact what this year's crop of creative minds wants to convey, they should strive to develop a new image that strikes the mind's eye of the reader.

I am excited by what I read. Not every student has a positive  view of school, and the images created by their metaphors are clouded in gloom or cracked by violence. While I am not happy to see those images tied to my mission, the creativity and emotion is sometimes truly impressive. Many are positive, and some shift in mood and tone as the mental pictures unfold on the page. The young poets  have created images for school and its various aspects that range from carrot cake to zoos, from racetracks to shoes, from beehives to mountains as they ahve crafted their extended metaphors (I have avoided calling these poems in class; I have found that simply calling them extended metaphors results in a much lower level of frustration for young men and women who i am trying to nudge away from groaning when they hear the word poetry).

I have witnessed young people labor for dozens of minutes trying to discover just the right word to fit in one line, only to change it again the next day when they reopen the document. Students become poets as they shift from using tired adjectives to vibrant participles. One event that no one outside my classroom may notice truly made me appreciate the opportunity I have each day. One student had created a rather lengthy metaphor comparing school to a zoo. The assignment required 8 lines, and she had placed at least twice that on the class document that held the entire class's offerings. However, she had actually composed perhaps 16 additional lines that she had not pasted with her other work. She was not sure if it was good enough, and she asked me to read it. In it she compared herself, as a student, to a wolverine, caged and observed, but eternally ferocious, fighting to overcome and break free, following an inner drive to go beyond the zoo's walls. It was not flawless, as no piece of writing ever is, but it was vivid. When I told her that her metaphor needed the lines she had written, that it completed the image and the idea, her face lit up, and she smiled, squirming in her seat.

That reaction made my day. That is why I teach young people. Those moments are present each and every day, and we sometimes have to remind ourselves to enjoy them. The smile when a kid finds just the right word, the tear that runs down a cheek when a stanza or paragraph touches something inside a 16-year-old, the furrowed brow when a bright student pushes a little harder to reach a higher expectation, the look of hopeful satisfaction on the face of the student who went beyond the basic requirements for an assignment for the first time this year. Those moments lead to higher assessment scores, and they allow a student to meet standards, believe it or not. More importantly, they lead to learning and growth. They open up minds and hearts, and they let kids find their ways. It does not happen with every kid on every activity, but we strive to make it happen as often as possible. It is not always immediately quantifiable, but it is without a doubt qualifiable.

So, it am going to go to work now. It is what we do. I will image upon image about school. Some will make me laugh, some will make me grind my teeth, and some will warm heart.  And one more thing is certain: they will make me want to go back tomorrow.

Oh, and thank you Lacy for calling me out. Sometimes it has to be done.