Every so often
you get a gift, an unexpected little surprise that brightens your day and makes
you feel the goodness buried under all the crap surrounding us.
This academic
year got off to a tough start: the tragic death of a dear colleague, an
accident on Seattle's Aurora bridge killing five students, the shooting at
Umpqua Community College in Roseburg, Oregon followed by three more: Northern
State University, Texas Southern University and Pepper Tree Elementary. All on
the same day.
In thirty
years of college teaching I've never kept my classroom door locked. For the
past two weeks I have. My students are as wonderful and eager to learn English
as always. They come from worlds full of violence and struggle to understand
the violence in this land that offers a safe haven from the hell they know. I
struggle with them to understand the insanity of this violence. And we practice
appropriate campus safety and disaster procedures.
I love
teaching. I do not love this fear. And I am incensed by the suggestion that I
and others in my profession should be packing guns to protect ourselves and our
students.
When insanity
seems to reign, it's the small gestures that matter most. At a division
meeting, a colleague pulled out her phone. "I've got something to show
you," she said. Tears welled. Tears that had no place at all. Tears that
had little to do with the photo she showed me and more to do with the gesture
itself. "Can you send it to me?" I managed.
Later that day
I found this in my inbox:
Hi Arleen,
Gabbana is a big fan of your books!
Carolyn
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