Vessel Log: 2009 02 10

: cobble together a 50 minute lesson, a topic of my choosing. Let’s call it Valentine’s Day. Let’s include words like arrows, hearts, and Cupid. Let’s talk about high school red carnations. Let’s split the page into text boxes and antique cards. Let’s start with a warm-up. Before the bell rings they’re peaking with laughter, “Speak Japanese, please!” amused by the sound of English echoed in their voices. Clock chimes. The race begins and now they’re shy, reluctant, wide-eyed. Stand up. That familiar feeling of “this is too much for them, quit while you can. Just drop it. Run out the door,” but no, that’s counter-intelligence. Unraveling is admission of defeat? Overseeing a vocabulary test in the library. They check their answers in red pen. I hand out 10 sheets to those who get less than 50. How did I get here? I used to be one of these kids! I want to tell them that. Back in the library a student and I chat about food, time, transportation, pets, sports, studying. Prepping him for an interview test two-years beyond his level. “For practice,” he says. The room fades to blue. We look up words like geography and fine arts. The baseball boys in the hallway smack birdies with bats. “For practice,” they say. Listening to Laura’s story, laying on the floor, a snowman blanket and blue sweatshirt as a pillow. She brought San Francisco into my bedroom. If only for 16 minutes.