I taught a tree once. He was a sapling and I met him, first, when he came to nature camp. Later, he was in my English classroom and I taught him for four straight years. In his senior year, he was a bit uprooted, but he remained strong and continued to grow.
Yesterday, I heard from this tree and got an update. He's been reading a lot and, because of this, he thought of me. It's been nine years.
I suppose teaching is garden work. You spend a lot of time in the soil, tending to the needs of every seed, dealing with the seasons and their weather, and doing your best to see every seedling will grow as it should. Later, when you hear back that such gardening paid off, it is the best karma in the world.
It's been hard moving out of the classroom and into theory and books. I miss adolescents and their thorns and beauty. I think of Shel Silverstein's book and I shall read it again real soon.
Have a great Saturday.