december 15, 2000. Today is Friday. Funny, that excites me much less than it once did. I have a lovely mate, a beautiful house and a satisfying quest toward a wonderful profession - but boy oh boy, what I wouldn't give for a social life. Sometimes I have the sneaking suspicion that everyone back home has forgotten me. I suppose that this is my chance to completely remake my personality, à la teen flicks of the 80's, but I just don't have the energy. Or the access to popular girls - there's no one to engineer the pivotal makeover scene, where my glasses disappear and I learn to wear lip gloss. I'm still trying to figure out who's the loser in this scenario. Today I taught a full course load - 3 double periods, 230 minutes in all. It seems strange to think of it now, as the situation failed to cross my mind once today…it was only on the ride home that I realised what symbolic river I had waded through. A full course load! 4 weeks ago the very prospect would've made me hyperventilate. I had a pretty good time too. I taught poetry/songs to the Grade 11's and Fifth Business to the Grade 12's (today's instalment that is, as I've been teaching the 12's since last Friday.) The poetry went pretty well. They have a pretty good handle on complicated imagery - that is, if you can ask the right questions and build a supportive atmosphere. Some liked the songs, some liked the poetry. My favourite moment was getting the class to chant "How pleasant to know Mr. Lear" in 8-part rhythm, as an object lesson in how much poetry changes and improves when it is read aloud. They weren't as thrilled, but it was worth it. When the second lesson had wrapped up and the class was working on their essays, the best most heartwrenching thing happened. (This story starts long ago.) Last week I had a chance to work with a kids who is so quiet that he just about fades into the walls during class time. He was away during my Joseph Campbell lesson, so we went to the library and did some catch up. During the walk down I was trying my best to be puppy dog friendly, which is something I've never tried before. We talked about music and poetry and other things, and I found out that he's a composer. His smile went in and out, following the emotional tide of the conversation. I've never met anyone who paid so much attention to my moods and humours. I worried about it, but it fell out of my forebrain soon enough. So this morning I was standing around, watching them work, when this very student walked up to me. Casually - o so casually - he held out a piece of notepaper. "Do you want this?" "Sure," I said, thinking brainlessly that this was a piece of work. No. It was lyrics to a song. One of the best songs I have ever read, in fact. I beckoned him over and whispered, "did you write this?" He nodded. "It's beautiful!" The notepaper sits at my elbow now. It took me a while to decode the loops and valleys of his boyscribble, but I have it down now. The emotion is just as finely drawn as the best anthologised verse. I feel like I can fit meanings to it if I want, but I want to know the original meanings more. Why does he spend his days invisible? Why has he trusted me with this lovliness? I just don't know. The poem - the student - the day - it just makes me want to cry. It's way too early in my career to be so deeply concerned with a student. But there it is. And again, I just don't know. There was rain last night and the trees are frozen. This is not enough. Those words cannot hold the fairy tale joy of what I could see outside the car window. It is ice and tree limb, precious metal glittering as if the forest was part of the bargain when the mice became coachmen. Fairy branches held still by the setting sun while we go whirring past and turning my head I see the silver turn to gold.