I am adding piece by piece to my own poems, intended for a future collection, tentatively titled Sometime Daughter .
Teaching has a rhythm.
Each semester's rise and fall, with its dates and deadlines, forms an underlying metrical regularity. Each day is predictable in our coming together, our rituals. But we also discover unpredictable metrical surprises. The days bring a rich range of rhythms, fevered conversation, slow silent thought, sweaty anxiety, excited epiphanies, and, yes, even a boredom of sing-songy voices. In that nexus is energy which is beyond my control, and that fact humbles me as a teacher.