I met my students as a teacher at the academy for the first time today. I introduced me as my poetic self and tried to stay true to the communicative characteristics related to this. Not too much instruction, focusing instead on relating what was interesting seen from my point of view. This led to a class exercise, inviting students to try my method – listening, repeating, passing on fragments of…
Today the students in the genre project were given secrets and little personal pieces of the puzzles that will become their writings. The cardboard Indan woman performed the ceremony. She is a cardboard indian because she has old scraps of paper in stead of Buffalo skins, she has paper and porcelain artefacts in stead of real animal tokens. The beads around her neck are made of paper mache. The secrets…
It began with the sound of the soothing song of the Black bird and its hectic, laborious upbringing of two or more broods of bickering hatchlings per summer – That was my image of the teacher I am becoming (willingly or not), and a suitable poetic background to the challenge of entering Sisters Academy for a short while. In the process of finding my place in this strange as of…
