Intrepid Girl Reporter

While I generally prefer a mic-free class, though, CTC’s microphone does make me feel rather enjoyably like a talk-show host, striding out into the audience and having students answer. What they probably don’t realize is that in my head, all the other students function as the studio audience.*

On that note, I’d like to recommend a particularly good story from a recent episode of This American Life that I recently discussed with one of my Program friends in Jeonju. I believe the episode itself is a rerun. The first story involves the rise and fall (and rise, and fall) of one Jerry Springer. You have to stream it from the website if you don’t want to pay. Highly recommended listening.

LIFE PROGRESS:

• one more CL draft completed
• potentially awesome Green Eggs/Ham lesson planned
• emailed travel agent re: KoreanAir
• uh.

Here is a poem by Audre Lorde. I’m not sure that I totally understand all of it yet, but I like it.

Coal

Audre Lorde

I
is the total black, being spoken
from the earth’s inside.
There are many kinds of open
how a diamond comes into a knot of flame
how sound comes into a words, coloured
by who pays what for speaking.
Some words are open like a diamond
on glass windows
singing out within the crash of sun
Then there are words like stapled wagers
in a perforated book - buy and sign and tear apart -
and come whatever will all chances
the stub remains
an ill-pulled tooth with a ragged edge.
Some words live in my throat
breeding like adders. Other know sun
seeking like gypsies over my tongue
to explode through my lips
like young sparrows bursting from shell.
Some words
bedevil me
Love is a word, another kind of open.
As the diamond comes into a knot of flame
I am Black because I come from the earth’s inside
Now take my word for jewel in the open light.