The year is winding down, and I sit and read through vocabulary sentences in a spurt of grading I have put off for too long. Usually I get the run-of-the-mill sentences, numbered one to ten. There are always, of course, sentences that set themselves apart from the rest.
1. Whenever Peter imitates a British accent, we see his eyebrows moving in a grotesque way.
2. School is there to free you from the fetters of ignorance; knowledge has much more power than you think.
But sometimes I get poetry.
My student Yuni writes the following.
Love allied itself with treachery. That was, I pray, not intentional. Incessant darts scar and bruise me. Jargons graze my head and knee. Jurisdiction sweeps over me like the tempestuous cloud of an ominous vulture. Kindred souls withdraw from me. Blood pours like a fountain from my lips. Save me! I have to confess I am no better than them, as I have often hidden myself from others who suffer like I do now. Myriad truths are sent away, as a lady sends a bored dismissal of her myriad ships. Yet, I know I am connected and a part of them. Blood and flesh--brothers and sisters. They are more precarious in their essence than I am. Oh, heavy am I in fetters and chains; sprightly are those who mock me.