Friday, September 3, 2010

where the lines blur

The first day of school with my students ended with a phone call as I was driving home. One of those calls that "takes your breath away". These first few weeks have been spent wondering and worrying about what's next for me, for my family?

That day I had asked the juniors to think about perspectives, not just their own but especially the Other. I asked them to spend several quiet minutes looking at Escher prints which I have on the wall around the room and one mural that a student created last year from one of his pieces. Here are some of their thoughts written on white boards next to the art:

the orb acts as a "looking glass" distorting the world in its own bias...

we can only see the outside, but you can't really tell what he is thinking/feeling or how he sees himself in the ball.

he sees himself as the center, distorted and larger than anything else

the transformation of ideas...

morphing of a story

change begins where the lines blur

They remind me. They have always reminded me. It's why I love teaching, even when it's exhausting, when life is exhausting.
myopia is a lonely place.
living in the blur often means change is coming
and maybe it's the type that grows wings...


Bruce Casson said...

Simply lovely, Cathryn. Lines always blur. Maybe because it's the human adventure, or condition, or limited perspective. But they blur. It's often learning to embrace that, quietly, restlessly, that bears the greatest fruit.

Thanks for posting.

Lots of love.

Cathryn said...

Hey thanks, Bruce. And for your support. Embracing the blur...I like that :-)!

Jennifer said...

Ooh, I love the thought of the blur. I've just been catching up on my blog reading. I'm excited for you and your transitions (whatever they may be) because I know you're always following the Shepherd's voice. Fill me in if you can! Much love, Jennifer Terry