Word After Word

I’m teaching the May Term–best class ever. I’m using my textbook The Practice of Creative Writing and we are all working hard, so hard, writing much every day. The class meets for three hours a day, every day.

Yesterday, we were going to run over. We weren’t done but we had to be done; I pride myself on perfect landings–I’m saying my last sentence of the teaching day at exactly 3:59:30, every day.

“We can go over,” Charlie said. “We want to.”

I said No. We can’t! We have been here three hours.

“No we really want to stay.” I’m sure not everyone in the room felt this way, but enough of us did. Making this the high point of my life as a teacher. (This glorious event–staying after on purpose–was followed by gorgeous gifts and a heartfelt amazing tear-creating thank you letter from my stunning student of four years, Miss E, and hours of good craic, well, Wednesday sure was a good day.)

Here’s a funny thing, too, which relates to Ignoring/Distrusting Praise-Believing Criticism, which I wrote about earlier this month.  I read the email from the director about the Balcones Prize (”It goes to a book, not a person,” he said) I immediately forgot about it.

I went on to other things. Later in the day, I scanned over my inbox and there it was. How could I have forgotten this, not called him? How can I chew over the possibly minor Wrong Thing I said this morning and not remember this?

We’re insane.