Amen, declares my teaching soul.
Teaching is poetry.
It’s the creation of something deeper, something sleeping below a classroom structure. Its meaning is buried underneath flash cards and Power Points, grade checks and rubrics. The surface seems simple and direct — we see the quizzes and cold-calls as clearly as pure rhymes. The bells ring and the lines break and we prepare for the next stanza to take a seat quietly and get to work.
But hanging underneath is something deeper, something unique, something pure to the individual.
Teaching breathes and stretches and transcends like poetry. No two learners can interpret the verse of teaching the same, just as no two teachers can write the same verse. No matter what the rhyme scheme or theme, it is the process of learning that makes education poetry. It is the delicate and personal interaction between two humans sharing a space in mind and body and trying to transfer meaning to…
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