Some days I love being an Elementary Guest Teacher. Some days not so much.
Today was one of those days.
They are dissecting the stories
deciding the children should ‘level’
their love of literature,
as if they could explode the
mystery of words and flatten it,
equalize the field of flowers that are
pictures, implode the language,
flatline the cadence and
diagnose the wonder.
They have instead
rendered the reading lifeless,
without oxygen, no heartbeat
sucked the air out of the room
and killed all the joy.
The patients are barely
In all fairness, there ARE days where the magic happens. Here’s a link to something I wrote about this summer using Tania Runyan’s book “How to Read a Poem”.