Dear President Joseph Biden,

Dear President Joseph Robinette Biden,

I hope you are well, and ready to celebrate the upcoming holidays with reverence and joy. Lord knows, you have earned a few family days, in fact, I hope you have several moments when you are not worried about all of us. I am looking forward to a few days like that myself. You see, I’m a high school teacher of English, and I know for sure you understand what that entails, in terms of never being too far removed from your work life. My wish for the both of us is to step away for a minute and rejoice in the wonders of the season.

So, why am I writing you? Well, that’s a simple one to answer. I just want to say thank you. I get the feeling you might not hear those two words enough from people. I must admit, they carry great weight; I know this firsthand. Most days I stand at my classroom door as my high schoolers exit, and we exchange niceties as they move on to their next class, like thank you, or have a great day, or for those headed to play in a basketball game or participate in a musical or theatrical or dance rehearsal, granting a best wishes, best of luck, or some such salutation. At the end of my day, I am the one made richer by all the recognition and gratitude I hear back. But perhaps you don’t get such gracious greetings with such ease. So, thank you, for all you do.

Continue reading

Year 29

In the early light, is there anything that holds more promise than a school building? Students arrive via bus or car or bike or foot, teachers too, all bringing a tangible energy, filled with all the opportunity in this day. I always smile driving up the hill to this grand building, the original section completed in 1928. I have spent nearly 3 decades working here, discussing story and craft and everything in between with students from 9th grade to 12th. This year that hopeful energy is even more palatable, because we are back full-time and in-person doing whatever is needed to keep our community safe, even graciously donning a mask. Heroes if you ask me as sacrifice has become the norm.

Continue reading

unreliable narrators

Virginia Woolf wrote, “Most commonly we come to books with blurred and divided minds, asking of fiction that it shall be true, of poetry that it shall be false, of biography that it shall be flattering, of history that it shall enforce our own prejudices”(Woolf). I don’t really remember the first time I doubted the opinions of a character in a novel or when I realized that perhaps poetry did not always impart truth, but I do know that all those notions came together in quite a spectacular manner when I read Crime and Punishment. As early as page 2 Dostoyevsky invites readers into his very real and awful world,

The heat in the street was terrible: and the airlessness, the bustle and the plaster, scaffolding, bricks, and dust all about him, and that special Petersburg stench, so familiar to all who are unable to get out of town in summer—all worked painfully upon the young man’s already overwrought nerves. The insufferable stench from the pothouses, which are particularly numerous in that part of the town, and the drunken men whom he met continually, although it was a working day, completed the revolting misery of the picture. An expression of the profoundest disgust gleamed for a moment in the young man’s refined face. He was, by the way, exceptionally handsome, above the average in height, slim, well-built, with beautiful dark eyes and dark brown hair. Soon he sank into deep thought, or more accurately speaking into a complete blankness of mind; he walked along not observing what was about him and not caring to observe it. From time to time, he would mutter something, from the habit of talking to himself, to which he had just confessed. At these moments he would become conscious that his ideas were sometimes in a tangle and that he was very weak; for two days he had scarcely tasted food.

The suspect mind of Raskolnikov was penned with the use of an omniscient point of view, and it is in that murky place that we begin our troubles. This narrator is not to be trusted on any account, his warped and privileged preoccupation with his own superiority clouds his vantage. Yet for many hundreds of pages we are led into his dangerous train of thought.

Continue reading