profesora!

Well, well, well. Back in the saddle, as they (who?) say.

It feels good to be doing something substantial again, even if it is teaching college composition to a bunch of teenagers who don't really want to be there. I had only a slight hint of nervousness as I entered the classroom this morning, and it had pretty much disappeared by the time I opened my mouth.

As usual, I made myself look like an idiot on day one. It's fine. I read a lot of Emerson to them today. I wanted to get them excited about learning! Excited about themselves! Excited about their potential as the centers of their own universes! I saw some shining faces, so it worked on a couple of them, at least. One girl did say, "Um, we spent a lot of time reading Transcendentalists in high school so...I pretty much know a lot about it." And I wanted to scream, "THAT'S NOT THE POINT." But I didn't.

I get more out of Emerson every single time I read him. Today was no different. How controversial to exclaim that YOU are the center of the universe, and not God. What freedom (and with it, responsibility). It's definitely egocentric--I guess that's kind of the meaning of the word--but I don't read it as selfish. It's more like communion with the great web of brain-waves that exists in the world. By understanding yourself, and having confidence in your ability to make your own decisions and change your own mind, you understand others. Understanding others means that ultimately, you have the power to know everything. I want to cry just thinking about it.

My other class, Intro to English II (a.k.a. Remedial Composition Skills) went just as swimmingly. The students seemed engaged, and I managed to hold them for the whole two hours. We started right off the bat with a lot of freewriting, list-making, peer-responding...and I think it got them in the spirit. I did not read them Emerson.

Actually, maybe I should have. That's elitist of me, to think that the Intro students wouldn't appreciate the sentiments of my favorite T-ist (or Transcy, if you prefer). I'm guilty of playing into the stereotypes. Well, that's it. Friday, I'm reading them some poetry to make up for it. Whitman, anyone?

I made them call me Professor Condo. I feel like I'm getting away with something illegal. Tee hee!