not drowning (yet), but waving
Sorry it has been a while...
My intent had been to have this site be a regularly updated record of my journey toward teaching as a career. It may still become that, but the firehose-drinking has been intense these past 5 or so weeks, and I can’t keep myself from comparing my complete lack of educational experience with those around me. I had a scab-picking session yesterday, and have plans to make myself stronger. In the mean time, here’s one of my favorite poems. For the record, thanks to D, Smoo, Mom, Jincy, Chet, Dr. Michael, Omar and my cohort (8), I am still (and hopefully always) only waving.
Not Waving But Drowning
by Stevie Smith
Nobody heard him, the dead man,
But still he lay moaning:
I was much further out than you thought
And not waving but drowning.
Poor chap, he always loved larking
And now he’s dead
It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way,
They said.
Oh, no no no, it was too cold always
(Still the dead one lay moaning)
I was much too far out all my life
And not waving but drowning.