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Something More

My eighth-grade students were studying poetry awhile back. In the midst of this, I had each of them introduce and recite a poem that he or she liked. When one of my classes finished, someone asked if I would recite one from memory. Caught a little off-guard, I told them I would read one of my own (it was sitting in the room already because I'd told a student I would share one of my poems, but never got around to it). I can't tell you how nervous I was reading that poem to my students (my principal happened to be there, too). The nervousness was bad enough that I actually had to stop mid-poem to calm myself.

I rarely feel this way in front of my classes anymore, but it was different here, and I know why. Despite the fact that I speak day in and day out, all of my words are mere recitations of academic concepts or commentary on events that involve other people. Very little of it-- and I try to keep it this way-- involves my personal life.

This is a good thing. Teachers should keep a professional distance from their students. I didn't think this poem would violate that principal, but it did. I didn't realize that this poem was even somewhat of a reflection of my own feelings, but it was. The event simply confirms something that's come up now and then in my mind as a teacher: this profession tends to accentuate your quirks and personality traits because you are so visible to the students, so visible in fact that they become to you a mirror, reflecting your behavior and attitudes. They see and often point out things about you that even you are not aware of. In this case, what the poetry failure emphasizes is that I am both guarded and sensitive.

I hate that about myself. Guys aren't supposed to be sensitive. They are supposed to be like Daniel Craig at the end of Cowboys and Aliens, the Marlboro-Man type who rides off into the sunset alone, who listens to no one and needs no one. They are supposed to be independent. I've tried to be this, and I can put up a pretty solid front most of the time; but if there's anything that will take you off your pedestal and thrust you into reality, it's letting yourself be seen-- really seen-- by people who need you to be something more, or at least those you think need you to be something more.

That, I think, is the very issue. I have believed that it is my place to be strong for those around me, to be physically, intellectually, and emotionally available to anyone who needs it; but not to lay any burden of need on others. This has led, of course, to some necessary isolation. It is impossible to be in relationship and not be seen as a human being. I can play the role of an available person by being open with my feelings and yet never truly let others see what I fear and love.

So I am not the Marlboro Man. So what? I guess that means I'm sensitive. I also like poetry, and if it takes me pausing to collect myself to learn a measure of self-acceptance, I think I'm in a better place than I was before; and certainly so if can lay down my shield, if I can let go of the person who directed his energies into fulfilling the role of a mannequin man representing what all men are supposed to be. By being me and becoming "less," I believe that I will truly become more.*

*Make no mistake. I doubt I will ever put myself in the poetry-reading position again. That was just awkward!

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