My new class familiar, yet untouchable. Words, once the brick and mortar of my professional life, so familiar. Yet when I try to touch them they slip away from me. They supposed to breath new life into my writing, but I feel like I am watching through a thick glass wall unto a land that was mine once but no more.
That who I once was,
That was me long time ago. Education, and education theories, is what I breathed in and out almost every moment of my day, for thirty years. Hold it, way before that, in a house where both parents were teachers and teaching is what was discussed around the dinner table.
Am I back now?
Or is this just a detour through the land of words that brought me to this point. Ironically back.
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