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So yes, I know: buttercups and warm lights, the shadows on a polar bear and pollen. Lemon curd sauce and angel pie, the afternoon light glowing in the living room. Gold on my fingers, the tint of big leaf maples in September. Bananas, egg yolks, buttered corn. Caution signs, dandelions, honey bees. Even so. The…
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The brain is a greedy organ*. I heard once that Einstein used the same energy when he was thinking hard that a marathon runner would be using about mile 25. I am thinking a lot these days. I am revising curriculum on the fly because my tiny writing class needs to become a more muscular…
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Teaching is not like working at Taco Bell. Teaching is different. Teaching is the profession I love. But before I entered teaching, I had other jobs. When I was a college student, back when it was much easier to do so, I worked to support myself and pay my public university tuition and expenses. My…
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When I became licensed as a K-12 Art teacher in 1976, I knew it was unlikely that I would find a job teaching students younger than high school age. Those little kids I worked with in my field experiences would never be mine for more than a few hours during my one-week assignment. Most districts considered…
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I remember when I first understood that “Negro” had gone the way of “colored.” In the late 60s, I walked home from school and explained this to my mother: “Don’t say that word, ‘Negro’. Say ‘black’,” and because we were that kind of family, Mom and I discussed respect for a long time. Years later…
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My mother would wander about the house looking for her coffee cup. Maybe she left it on the counter or the coffee table, beside the telephone or on the mantel in the living room. It might be on the picnic table in the back yard from when she went out to check on something. It…
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I buy books. My husband buys books. We have, on occasion, vowed to stop, but we do not stop. We buy more books. Purchasing books is no cheaper than smoking or drug use, but this habit will not kill either of us. We buy books. We buy books from second-hand vendors and the local stores…
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My favorite pair of gloves are purple. They are not quite dark enough because I want the shade to conceal stains. I want it to work, but I also prefer the shadows. My walls are painted pale tints of plummy gray, but what draws me to purple is the darkness. Purple has a royal association…
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So now it’s Junot Díaz accused of abusive behaviors toward women.* I wish I could say I was surprised. Karina Maria Cabrera wrestled with how to respond to the news, with how to reconcile her own ugly experience with Diaz and her indoctrinated impulse to make excuses for him, and to resent the accuser who called him out.…
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Brevity 22 The Things I’ve Lost by Brian Arundel Fleece hat and gloves: in the backseat of a Boston cab in 2002, before driving back to Maine. Round, purple sunglasses: in an Atlanta pool hall over drinks with Ashby, whose wife was determined to save their marriage by having a baby. A measurable dose of…
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IMPERFECT PATIENCE 