Learning that there are not many places to take my teaching practice. The only option, truly, is to start a school or some writing and reading camp or cove of my own. This morning my meditation is curved, or cracked, something. Mood, off. Writing yesterday but only in Kerouac journal, at lunch. Today, cannot let self eat out. Need to work. Plan for this writing seminar or set of seminars I want to teach.
Putting everything into this new education project. And I’m not touting or boasting, advertising that I’m some writing and reading expert. But, I have taught for a bit now, and have ideas to share. Anymore that’s what teachers should incorporate into their classroom presence, that they’re sharing ideas and not telling students what to do. Self-discovery, yes, but just following thought pursuit, Human curiosity. Wondering why so many that are technically teachers want to be the one in charge, the one with all the answers rather than practice understatedness in their statements and lectures.
Made a couple more additions to document. My character evens, balances, rights itself. Educating self through this Now, this experience, this breath and intersection of intention and realization. Telling self that knowledge is where I am, where I’ll forever be. Remembering everything taught by Dad, Bob Coleman, and only a handful of instructors that contributed something true and truthful to my story.
Music in everything. Even the time, much I loathe it. 8:33…. Only aim for today, points of learning, education, where I learn and ideas I want to, WILL, share with students, anyone taking one of my online courses or seminars.
Journal writing… Wrote one point for class. Keep self in learning mode, more than teaching. Reject teacher moniker, embrace the book carrier, pen mover, class to class goer.