Writing in My Waking Hours
Hmm...
I've had a glorious last few months. I know, I keep saying that, but it's true. I've let my brain become focused on poetry -- I've read poetry, thought about poetry, shared poetry, critiqued poetry, and yes, of course, wrote poetry.
Last week, though, my university had a guest lecturer come by to talk to writing faculty about second language acquisition, and of course, I was there, and my brain started thinking, again, of my pedagogy. It's been a shifting of gears, so to speak, and this morning, instead being awoken by a sudden need to write, I woke up to thoughts about re-sequencing my readings to accommodate for L2 learners. Good, important and productive thoughts, yes, but as I poured myself a cup of coffee and began my "work" for the day, I couldn't help but think, ugh.
And here I go again, teaching taking over my entire brainspace.
I love teaching, I really, really do. I think I'm a fantastic teacher. In fact, I THINK I'm a better teacher than I am a writer (Shhhhhh don't tell anyone), but maybe that's because I allow teaching to become my obsession during the semester. It's my bread and butter, so of course, right? :-/ But can't there be room for two obsessions in ones brain?
So here's my vow: on this, my last week of summer vacay, I vow to keep this good thing going. My first waking moments, my first waking thoughts, are going to focus on writing. I can't be a good teacher if I'm not engaging in writing, too, like I ask my students to do day in and day out. On some days, this might be just a scribbling of something, but I hope that more specifically, on the days that I don't teach (Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday and Sunday) that I'll actually use those days OFF from teaching, and focus on what makes me a good writing teacher, the fact that, I, too, am engaged in the writing process.
So here's to a productive semester, to breakthroughs in and out of the classroom, and to poetry, yes, always to poetry, that got me here, that keeps me sane, that lets me connect my being with the world around me.
I've had a glorious last few months. I know, I keep saying that, but it's true. I've let my brain become focused on poetry -- I've read poetry, thought about poetry, shared poetry, critiqued poetry, and yes, of course, wrote poetry.
Last week, though, my university had a guest lecturer come by to talk to writing faculty about second language acquisition, and of course, I was there, and my brain started thinking, again, of my pedagogy. It's been a shifting of gears, so to speak, and this morning, instead being awoken by a sudden need to write, I woke up to thoughts about re-sequencing my readings to accommodate for L2 learners. Good, important and productive thoughts, yes, but as I poured myself a cup of coffee and began my "work" for the day, I couldn't help but think, ugh.
And here I go again, teaching taking over my entire brainspace.
I love teaching, I really, really do. I think I'm a fantastic teacher. In fact, I THINK I'm a better teacher than I am a writer (Shhhhhh don't tell anyone), but maybe that's because I allow teaching to become my obsession during the semester. It's my bread and butter, so of course, right? :-/ But can't there be room for two obsessions in ones brain?
So here's my vow: on this, my last week of summer vacay, I vow to keep this good thing going. My first waking moments, my first waking thoughts, are going to focus on writing. I can't be a good teacher if I'm not engaging in writing, too, like I ask my students to do day in and day out. On some days, this might be just a scribbling of something, but I hope that more specifically, on the days that I don't teach (Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday and Sunday) that I'll actually use those days OFF from teaching, and focus on what makes me a good writing teacher, the fact that, I, too, am engaged in the writing process.
So here's to a productive semester, to breakthroughs in and out of the classroom, and to poetry, yes, always to poetry, that got me here, that keeps me sane, that lets me connect my being with the world around me.
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