>There are places I can return to with new discoveries each time. A weekend in Provincetown yielded horses running on the beach, a particular way the autumn sun hit the bay, an almost deserted Commercial Street in midday. It was surprisingly warm with lucky sun. Reading on the deck, walking on the quiet street, visiting with Scott at Joe’s Coffee–all noble ventures. I never tire of the dunes, the rippling bay, galleries and street musicians. It’s all part of the observation, the living that makes writing possible.
>Understanding Geography and Other New Learning
•November 5, 2009 • Leave a Comment>I awakened this morning thinking of my traveling daughter. When she was a freshman in high school, the subject she liked the least was geography. In the hands of a creative educator, this subject could surely come alive but she was faced with memorizing capitals and the topography of places unfamiliar. The irony is that she immerses herself in geography now, having visited most of Europe, China, remote Alaska, and living a year in New Zealand. She is presently in Antarctica. I wonder what her former teacher would think of that, having written her off as a mediocre geography student. Yet there are teachers who inspire students–my comparative literature professor in college, Glauco Cambon, who sadly died of a heart attack at 67. He made the Italian Renaissance come alive for me when previously it was just six pages in a history book. I happily immersed myself in all he recommended, encountering what is best about learning–discovery guided by someone who passionately loves the subject he is teaching. I have been lucky enough to have wonderful mentors in both my undergraduate education–Lee Jacobus and Jim Scully come to mind–and my more recent graduate education–Baron Wormser, Terrence Hayes, Laure-Anne Bosselaar Joan Connor, Barbara Hurd, and more. I know it makes a difference. I aspire to be this kind of educator–a writer who teaches, believing that the written word is a tool for change, inspiration, comfort, and just plain enjoyment. Reaching non-traditional learners is something I love because they are the non-conformists of the world. Interacting with material in a way I wouldn’t have thought of, they teach me as much as I teach them. It is in this way that I remain fresh and engaged as a teacher. I know I cannot make every student enjoy poetry but I do believe I can make every student engage in one poem. One poem may lead to another poem in the same way that walking around the block may lead to walking a mile. We never lose our ability to learn and grow. My own children have taught me a great deal about wonder, risk-taking, critical thinking and engagement. The adventure can continue for a lifetime.
>The Places We Go
•October 29, 2009 • Leave a Comment>Having writer Geraldine Mills visiting has helped me to see new things about my students, my environment, my networks. Sometimes I drive, not noticing the mesh of colors, the doe in the field, two rabbits behind a tree. My students have been inquisitive and focused. She has brought her perception, humor and unique way of being in the world to New England. For me, it provides more validation of the power of words and the world of writing. Too often, I allow life to crowd my writing time. Some of this is a bad habit–like checking email instead of writing. Geraldine speaks of writing in her car before she goes to work. I have the luxury of two mornings a week. Viewing time differently would help. Coming from scarcity crowds the small moments I could spend writing. I’ve learned to fill every moment and need to let time out of its cage. Time sidles up to me in parking lots, taps me on the shoulder in the early morning. So I resolve to be a good friend to my minutes and hours, nurturing each brief respite so it will stretch lazy legs and become strong. It is possible to fit a lot of creativity into a small space, necessary even.
>Making Preparations
•October 24, 2009 • Leave a Comment>I read poetry to second graders, high school students, and college students. Today the second graders were rapt as I read a poem by Carl Sandburg and another by Lucille Clifton. We talked about the layers of a poem, internal rhyme; that subtle music. One student raised her hand and said that poems should make you feel something. Yes! I am lucky to be able to share my passion for words. Some days I feel as if I no longer have time to write–I’m rushing here and there trying to teach enthusiasm for what I love and scarcely do during this busy season. I’m making preparations for a quieter winter, snow and dark evenings where thoughts can flow freely.
Right now I’m awaiting Geraldine’s visit. She has arrived from Ireland today and will come to stay with me for the week, beginning tomorrow. I know I’ll recover some of the magic I felt in Ireland. When I am able to write each day, I feel balanced and energized. It’s important work though it may never yield any financial reward. This is a season of reevaluation. I will look to the sky for answers.
>What Weather Has to Teach Me
•October 15, 2009 • Leave a Comment>It began snowing while I was teaching this afternoon. That’s enough to distract me, never mind a classroom of 22 teenagers! October! Snow! It began as a cold rain, that kind that makes you want to wrap yourself in a blanket and sip chai or hot chocolate. Suddenly big snowflakes pocked the ground. I can’t remember a snow in October though I do remember some white Novembers.
Later I ran into an old friend and her husband; people I have not seen in a long while. Health challenges have changed their lives. I remember how I saw things differently after having cancer. The blues became cooler, reds were hot to the touch. There were nuances I had missed like the gradation of gray on the underside of a cloud. How many days have I wasted? Hours? Minutes? Always I resolve to do it differently but mostly I forget and dash around.
Let the wild snows come. I will gather in those I love most, even if from afar. I will teach acceptance–of one another, of temperature fluctuations, of the crazy way in which we blunder in relationships and in life–only to come out on the other side stunned by what we learned. Growth is a lifelong process and I hope I have “miles to go before I sleep.” There is so much to teach and I am not done learning.
Literary Imaginings by Lisa C. Taylor 
