Mensen wagen zich te ver in zee,
steken hun armen in de lucht,
maar kunnen niet op het woord ’help’ komen
ze roepen andere woorden,
woorden die over elkaar heen buitelen,
hele zinnen, verhandelingen, geloofsbelijdenissen,
ze kunnen overal op komen,
maar niet op dat woord, niet op dat ene woord
redders staan op het strand en wachten –
ze hebben geduld, maar niet eindeloos,
ze hebben honger,
ze hebben gezinnen waaraan ze moeten denken
en die mensen roepen maar door,
hun armen in de lucht,
hun woorden steeds wilder, schriller en diepzinniger
He says the problem with teachers is, "What's a kid going to learn
from someone who decided his best option in life was to become a teacher?"
He reminds the other dinner guests that it's true what they say about
teachers:
Those who can, do; those who can't, teach.
I decide to bite my tongue instead of his
and resist the temptation to remind the other dinner guests
that it's also true what they say about lawyers.
Because we're eating, after all, and this is polite company.
"I mean, you're a teacher, Taylor," he says.
"Be honest. What do you make?"
And I wish he hadn't done that
(asked me to be honest)
because, you see, I have a policy
about honesty and ass-kicking:
if you ask for it, I have to let you have it.
You want to know what I make?
I make kids work harder than they ever thought they could.
I can make a C+ feel like a Congressional medal of honor
and an A- feel like a slap in the face.
How dare you waste my time with anything less than your very best.
I make kids sit through 40 minutes of study hall
in absolute silence. No, you may not work in groups.
No, you may not ask a question.
Why won't I let you get a drink of water?
Because you're not thirsty, you're bored, that's why.
I make parents tremble in fear when I call home:
I hope I haven't called at a bad time,
I just wanted to talk to you about something Billy said today.
Billy said, "Leave the kid alone. I still cry sometimes, don't you?"
And it was the noblest act of courage I have ever seen.
I make parents see their children for who they are
and what they can be.
You want to know what I make?
I make kids wonder,
I make them question.
I make them criticize.
I make them apologize and mean it.
I make them write, write, write.
And then I make them read.
I make them spell definitely beautiful, definitely beautiful, definitely
beautiful
over and over and over again until they will never misspell
either one of those words again.
I make them show all their work in math.
And hide it on their final drafts in English.
I make them understand that if you got this (brains)
then you follow this (heart) and if someone ever tries to judge you
by what you make, you give them this (the finger).
Let me break it down for you, so you know what I say is true:
I make a goddamn difference! What about you?
Ik droomde: ik werd wakker bij heldere zon
Aan een bosrand, in vreemde onbekende streken;
Zoveel dieren, dicht over mij heen, als een deken,
Dat ik mij haast niet bewegen kon:
Heel warm, en heel zacht!
Ze keken mij vriendelijk vragend aan.
Ze bedoelden: ik moest mee naar hun holen.
Ik wou weten: hoe kom ik eerst onder die vracht
Vandaan? Maar ik lag daar ook goed verscholen,
En begreep: ze zouden me toch niet verstaan.
