Wednesday, September 15, 2010

Dream journal

I had another dream. A reocurring dream.  I was in large warehouse space at my elementary school. it may have been the library or maybe it was an art room. I may have been a student or a teacher. there were big cabinets full of children's clay projects. They were organized by color. Hundreds of little green bowls.  Hundreds of little blue bowls. They were so fragile i was afraid they would break. The floors were polished concrete. the rafters were exposed in the ceilings. the atmosphere was cold.  There were hundreds of flat files full of children's paintings.  I was afraid i would never be able to find what i was looking for.  But there was a small warm room with orange light, floor to ceiling with books. A group of children arise and i realized i had taught them when they were much smaller. I asked them if they remembered me. No, They said, they didn't.  Their answer made me very sad.

2 comments:

M. L. Benedict said...

This is such a poetic dream. In reality, though, they will all remember you. I remember every one of my teachers from kindergarten on.

Camille said...

Thank you, Mikie. This dream contains all my teaching anxiety -- from breaking the children's work, to being forgotten.

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