Shrugging at the world

I have been swimming in a rip tide since I woke. I know what to do to get out (been in rips numerous times) but just can't calm the thoughts to do what I know, to swim parallel to shore, to even catch one full breath... I started today by reading some of Ishmael Reed's thoughts. He justifiably made me doubt my role as an educator. In the introduction to his multicultural anthology he claims, "Many good writers have become inspired to write when they read someone whose experience they share." Ahh, I teach young African-American and Latino writers, and as I reflect on the school year's end I ponder: Did I do my job? I claim to be a multicultural educator of English literature and writing, but did I succeed? My confidante and colleague raised this same query recently. I looked at him and confidently reassured him, but now I have let this question soak in...And, I don't know, I don't know, I just DON'T KNOW!

Ok, this helped:

Yumi Thomas
Love Poem to an Avacado from a Tomato

Tonight I wore my bright red suit
and came to the opera
just to see you at the buffet.
Leaning against a cabbage leaf
in a bowl of salad,
your olive skin shimmers
like a river at night.
You dance among carrots, cucmbers,
and wear a crown of alfalfa sprouts like a queen.
I straighten my green necktie and bow to you,
then blush red as my suit
as you glide by in an artichoke's arms
under the rain of a thousand islands.

Recently, as I dined with great friends (at aforementioned confidante's house) Ben stated that artichokes chemically make everything taste better. This poem truly gives animated proof to his theory, and made me laugh outloud. Now, I am going to soak sunrays and smile at simple things. Thanks Meg (see above post)!