It may seem
farfetched to think of my students as being “glorious”, and my classroom as
“full of glory”, but that’s sometimes the way I see things. One dictionary gives this as the definition
of “glory”: "brightness, luster, splendor, magnificence", and
when I think of my students the way they truly are, the definition fits.
Every moment, each of my students is thinking an entirely new thought -- a
thought that has come to them unbidden, in a magical and mysterious way. It’s
as if the students have small suns inside them rising afresh each moment as
they sit in English class. The class may be a lackluster one, but the thought
that is being born inside them at 9:23 am or 1:09 pm is as fresh and formidable
as a new star in the sky. If I see my students as merely physical presences in
my room, then certainly they can seem the opposite of glorious. They can seem
to be small, imperfect packages of life into which I’m trying to dump smaller
packets of information. Regrettably, that is, in fact, the way I see them
during some of my more wearisome classes. However, it is not the truth of who
they are. A physicist would tell me my students are complex systems of energy
spinning at super speeds, including multifaceted arrangements of ceaselessly
proliferating thoughts. As such, there’s never anything old about my
students. They are always new as they sit before me. They shine, persistently, with a
youthful kind of splendor and glory.
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