I just finished teaching, my 2nd out of 3 creative play series for adults. It’s more clear to me now that this is one of my prime reasons for being. I love sharing word play, my love of words, how to sandwich words together and see what happens.
It might seem funny to know this when (sssshhhhh) I’ve been teaching to a very small classroom of one. Next week there will supposedly be three people. Maybe. Maybe people will cancel and it’ll be one. My friend tells me it takes a full year to get enough people in a classroom. But that doesn’t matter. Because few things make me happier than prepping for a writing class. Few things feed me better than talking about words and playing with words and reading words out loud. I like being the one that creates the shape and then watching the shape of the class ebb and flow, the dependence of how class turns out based on what your students bring to class.
And it’s been a hard week so far, so it’s saying a lot that my mood is super elevated right after teaching. That before I began teaching this series a few weeks ago, I was completely dismayed that it didn’t fill. That I had to re-calibrate and be OK and make a goal to spend class time being creative, even if no one showed up.
Someone showed up and I showed up. And Bach and the words and colored pencils showed up, too. I’m going to keep going with this project. I’m planning on teaching every other week in April. Truth be told, I feel solidly good about this effort I’m putting out into the universe. I think my body likes it, too.