Journal: 11/22/05

I wonder why I’m the victim of illusions so often. Yesterday it happened on several occasions. Before the annual Hunger Banquet at school, I worried about the possibility of kids being silly at the banquet and perhaps ruining the serious atmosphere of the occasion. I had a picture in my mind of a few kids giggling or whispering or taking extra cups of rice, and I was deluded, momentarily, into thinking the banquet might be a failure. It was anything but. As I spoke to the students from the podium, I saw only earnestness and attentiveness in their looks. The illusion was gone, and the reality of well-behaved, serious-minded students had taken its place. It happened again in my 9th grade class. I decided to read aloud my essay about thankfulness, but I was worried that the kids might be bored and unresponsive. I pictured them yawning, gazing out the window, or shuffling papers as I read. Once again, however, the illusion disappeared rather quickly. As I read the essay, there was utter silence in the room. I looked up now and then, and all I saw were eyes staring at me in thoughtfulness. Never mind my illusions about them; this was how my students really were. It was as if a veil had dropped from my eyes -- something that, fortunately, happens to me many times each day.