On Friday, I start my 45th year of teaching at Fordham. After all this time I still have the fire in my belly. I am still nervous about meeting my classes, still wondering how to grab their attention, still wondering how they will respond to the me, the material and one another. In many ways, I am not the same person I was then. My body has pretty much broken down. I can no longer grab the rim of a 10 foot basket- I have trouble walking without a limp and the only rim I can grab is that of a beer glass. I have also conquered a lot of my own fears as a scholar and have a bunch of books and articles under my belt that I only dreamed I could write back then. But when it comes to teaching, very little has changed. The classroom is the place where I come alive, where everything falls in place, where I hope to transfer my love of learning to the next generation. Its what I was meant to do and I am so thankful I have been allowed to do it for this many years
Posted on: Wed, 03 Sep 2014 09:45:24 +0000
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