the id, the ego, & the single misfiring brain cell

I'm inspired in a way and to a level I've never been, walking into the classroom. And it feels wonderful. I'm not sure I can explain why, but here is my feeble essay to do so. 

Our fall semester began Wednesday; my classes began Thursday. This means I've had one class meeting with my students so far. That isn't much to go on, I realize, as far as "determining the lay of the land" goes, but still...I feel wonderful about this semester. 

I've been trying to put my finger on why I feel so self-possessed, suddenly. Several possible reasons spring to mind. In no particular order: 

1. I not only believe in the transformative power of good literature, but perhaps for the first time, I'm ready to articulate why it's so important to read it and (yes!) study it. 

2. I'm excited about the literature itself, to the point that I have no shame in my passion for it. I look forward to sharing this beauty and power with my students. Indeed...I began the first day. I explain in my syllabus why literature will make a huge difference in who they will become, etc. And I read it to them. 

This semester, for the first time, none of my students struck that all-too-familiar "OK, teach me--I dare you" pose. This is even more of a coup because I have the Academy's most cynical groups this semester: the sophomores, for whom the newness has worn off and who can barely see the light at the end of the tunnel, and the seniors, who are in a rut, have "seen it all" with regards to things the Academy can do to them, and who have graduation-itis. 

3. To a large extent, I've managed to drop my ego. I mean "ego" in the sense of "Concern that my students won't think I'm cool." I'm not cool and ultimately, I don't want them to think I'm "cool" (whatever that means, anyway). I want them to think I'm weird because I'm passionate about literature and good writing. In my not insubstantial experience, the teachers who clearly love what they do are the ones who make the biggest impact. I still recall my sixth and seventh grade science teachers for this very reason: they would do experiments to demonstrate what they were explaining and they had so much fun with them. They'd giggle like kids on Christmas morning. That kind of enthusiasm can't be faked, and it's contagious. 

4. I read all of the books I'm teaching this summer, so while I must reread them to be at my best, I'm still prepared if something comes up and I don't have time to do lesson prep here and there. I'm completely prepared. I even posted my grading rubrics for all the oral presentations as well as prose and poetry "cheat sheets" and info on the basics of the short story on my Sharepoint page Friday before I left work. Prepared, I tells ya. 

d