Skip to main content

Eyes Have It

It's in the eyes. Often, the first time you encounter someone you can see their curiosity in their eyes. Intellectual curiosity. It lights up the soul. I've seen it a time or two in one of the nearly 5000 students in my classroom over the years. Dare I say these people light up a room. They have an innate energy that just seems to burst out in everything they do and speak about and pursue. A kind of cheerful approach to learning. So it was this light that drew me to a conversation this morning with a young woman who works at my local coffee shop. She was sitting at a table reading a book in Spanish. When I ambled over to see what she was reading and look at another book, a novel, on her table, she maintained the same level of connection that most of the baristas are required to extend toward their customers. But this was different. Rather than the forced friendliness accompanied by, "so what are you up to today,"she didn't have to say anything. The eyes said it all. We spoke for about 20 minutes and I learned that she's leaving soon for New Mexico and her first teaching job. That sparked more conversation. At my age now, I'm always weary about initiating a conversation with a much younger person. Intentions get lost. Water gets muddied. Care must be taken. But today, we spoke with such a pure enthusiasm about many things we have in common. When the topic somehow involved thoroughbred horses, she revealed herself to be a student of breeding too. That kind of matched energy is rare. It was wonderful to experience it again, no matter how brief. I suppose it's a kind of vicarious relationship. But either way, life's mystery, with coffee in hand, once again comes calling.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Body Language

I'm sitting there in a hospital gown, waiting for my doctor to complete my yearly physical.  This is when I look at everything on the walls, read the medical posters, the instructions on any equipment in the room, look in every corner and behind every chair.  I study the paper on the examination table, laugh out loud at the picture of a smiling child holding a bouquet of broccoli, and the note the placement of the computer in the room. Finally, wondering if the gown I'm wearing is on correctly, I focus on myself.  At this point in my life I'm fairly comfortable in a doctor's office.  But it always seems to take so long when waiting for the doc to enter.  So I fidget.  Then I begin a tour of myself.  Scars are tattoos.  I look at the one on my knee and see myself at 12.  Whittling a piece of wood with my Boy Scout jack knife.  The blade slips and I cut a crescent slash through my jeans and into my flesh for life.  50 years later ...
Post a Comment
Read more

Illusory

What does it take to enrage you?  That moment when your words fly on pure emotion because enough is enough.  Is it a driver that cuts you off at high speed?  What about being an eyewitness to blatant racism or on the receiving end of some obvious injustice? I know some people who never express rage.  I admire them but know full well I am not capable of such distance from that which would bring about such a strong response. Another senseless shooting and 7 people die at the hands of a mentally ill gun owner.  The father of the 20 year old college student lets it fly and somehow millions feel a new sense of relief.  He calls the politicians bastards who do nothing, he wears his pain in public.  The news media responds but we all know that nothing is going to change.  We are the gun country.  We are the place where anybody, anytime, can be cut down just for being there when somebody else snaps. Usually the perpetrators are delusional. ...
Post a Comment
Read more

Mr. Greene v. Mr. Brown

I want to tell you about something. Something I've carried inside myself for a number of years now. Perhaps if I were a different kind of person I wouldn't need to talk about it. I'm not. My need to tell it is stronger than your need to hear it. Because, however, there are a number of teachers and former students of mine who may read these meanderings from time to time, I need to tell this story all the more. About 7 or 8 years ago I was asked if I would allow a university PhD. candidate to observe an English class. At first I decided against it because I was scheduled to have a student teacher placed with me the second half of the semester in question. After some urging, however, at the request of a respected colleague, I agreed. Soon I was committing to extra meetings, signing documents and explaining to the class in question who the young woman who thoughtfully pounded away on a laptop in the rear of the classroom three times a week was. I knew that the topic of ...
3 comments
Read more