Buried in grading…

I’m absolutely buried in grading papers. Our term just ended, and grades are due on Tuesday. I have to get into the zen flow of commenting, because otherwise I just get annoyed. This afternoon, in between dozens of mediocre, but fine, papers comes a beautiful one — with ideas that stretch me, and gifts of new insight. In addition, this student has introduced me to a poem by Yehuda Amichai. I’ve tried to find a way to link to it on the web, but not finding one, I’m including it here:

From the places where we are right
flowers will never grow
in the Spring.

The place where we are right
is as hard and trampled
like a yard.

But doubts and loves
dig up the world
like a mole, a plough.

And a whisper will be near in the place
where the ruined
house once stood.

This is the gift of teaching -- finding students who help you to learn. I am grateful that in the avalanche of papers this one came in today.