Literary Imaginings by Lisa C. Taylor

     Last night thunderstorms flickered the lights; oak trees swayed like young women on a dance floor.  This morning: leaf-rubble was strewn all over the road and driveway.  While I like the intensity of a sudden storm, it is frightening in the power it wields.  There is always the potential that it could gather strength and cause serious damage.  I’m not the kind of person who believes that goodness is rewarded and evil is punished.  Talented and dedicated people lose jobs, have cheating or abusive spouses while difficult or cruel people can become CEOs of companies or politicians.  Power and success is a result of luck, persistence and sometimes an intangible.  At times I wish I believed that offering the best would result in success but it doesn’t always add up–in schools, in relationships, in life.  Instead I believe that offering your time and talent to the world is a matter of personal integrity and pride.  Seeing the light in the eyes of children when I am beating out the rhythm of a poem or reading Pablo Neruda can make my day.  Suddenly they stop fidgeting, shoulders down and hands still.  Even if they don’t understand all the words, they respond at a visceral level.  Such moments make me glad I’m a writer and teacher.  I know the students I’ve taught have benefitted from my passion for literature and learning.  All the teachers or professors I remember were immersed in the subject area, able to make it come alive in the classroom.  The prerequisites for teaching ought to be love of the subject and unqualified respect for the individual even though teaching will be frustrating and daunting at times.  Students care for younger siblings, hold outside jobs, have unemployed parents or parents in prison.  Sometimes they memorize and later forget, take every extracurricular activity to get into the right college but lose their love of the process, forget how good it feels to learn something new.   Fair isn’t equal, I used to tell my own children.  One child needs repetition, another needs to soar, yet all need to be treated as individuals.  When sudden storms threaten the status quo, I will look to the changeable skies for direction.  When I lived by the ocean, I would consult the tides.  Wildness reminds me that I am but a small part of the world.  When it seems that the trappings of life are overwhelming, viewing oneself as a shell on the beach or a single branch can be useful.  The sea holds its secrets like I hold writing close inside me, knowing that words can hurt or heal.  I vow to use my facility with language for the greater good, expecting nothing but a blank page and if I’m lucky, a listening ear.

~ by Lisa C. Taylor, writer on June 10, 2011.

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