When I write my memories from my childhood or the not-so-distant-past, I find myself feeling a bit deceptive. Is this what happened? I am not sure, but it feels like that’s what happened. Is this what it meant? I am not sure, but this is what it means to me now. And when I write about my classroom, the stories in my classroom, I wonder how much of what I write is my heart’s desire. I guess knowing this pushes me to understand the artists of time and memory.
When I write my memories from my childhood or the not-so-distant-past, I find myself feeling a bit deceptive. Is this what happened? I am not sure, but it feels like that’s what happened. Is this what it meant? I am not sure, but this is what it means to me now. And when I write about my classroom, the stories in my classroom, I wonder how much of what I write is my heart’s desire. I guess knowing this pushes me to understand the artists of time and memory.