Today is the last day for the five-week teaching institute on writing and we are culminating with two more demonstrations, another round of student workshops, and a final bout of reflection. In my whacky world of whateverness (Thank You Great Whatever) I always try to find the perfect way to say good bye.
And I think I will do this with a performance...a poem to read while I have an audience of dinosaurs ready to play a game with me...one where we fling bugs at those who bug us most..one where we have decor for our middle fingers...one where we can sanitize the ugly rhetoric thrown at public school teachers...one that reminds us that teaching is a treat...and one that keeps us young and playful. That's the goal for the goodbye I've prepared.
As this day arrived I began to think how wonderful it would have been to have an ethnographer to capture all the data that existed within the institute and all the Young Adult Literacy Labs. It's hard to be in charge and a collector of all that is happening -
so much happened...so much beautiful work happened...and that is the NWP tradition I love and live for. It is a religion I totally believe in.
But today will be sad. 8 phenomenal educators will get to enjoy the rest of the summer now that I won't be in there way...
And with that, there's nothing else I can say but I have always been a lucky Son of a Butch. A son of a Butch I am.
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