Those Boots

This student came to my class with her spurs on. You could hear her clacking all the way down the hall before her arrival into the Monday night Composition I classroom. Once she asked if she could bring her pet hedgehog to class and I said sure, we'd make it into a writing prompt. For this picture, I asked her to pose with the bane of our collective existence, "The Road" by Cormac McCarthy. The book you hate to love because it's so good yet so depressing yet so hopeful, you realize only after reading it about five times.

I have a theory that if I write about teaching, I'll become a teacher.

If I identify as a teacher, I'll become a teacher.

If I take pictures of the boots of my students, I'll become a teacher. (I mean the kind of teacher where they give you so much money you can pay your monthly bills.)

I've been thinking about horses lately too. Especially the one I used to ride. I've got a picture of that somewhere. Me sitting up tall on the back of a sturdy Morgan named Red; sitting up tall on this cattle-cutting steed while wearing white Madonna-inspired sunglasses (it was the '80s). I asked Bob if he knew where that snapshot was. I know I've seen that picture laying on a random household pile somewhere, fairly recently. But where?

"You trying to relive your youth?" Bob asked.

"No, just some research," I lied. Yes, of course I'm trying to relive my youth. I'm thinking of those days when I wore boots like that, and rode horses freely across the prairie so well even the local ranchers were impressed. Not to brag, but they were. Not to be a drag, but I haven't ridden a horse since. Not to drag this out, but I keep asking myself: why?

It probably has something to do with the monthly bills and/or other obligations whether real or perceived.

Anyway, when a student shows up in Composition I class with spurs, I get it. The part I get the most is this: what a complete privilege it is to teach writing to a young woman in cowboy boots. Cormac McCarthy, and your white space and your lack-o-punctuation and your questioning of civil society -- meet my student. (I'm working on my presentation for next week, if you can't tell, with topic being of course, "The Road" by Cormac McCarthy, which I swear I will never read again.)

“ 'The Road' would be pure misery if not for its stunning, savage beauty." That's what Janet Maslin wrote in her New York Times review of the book. I quite agree. After next Friday, when I present my workshop, I will put "The Road" to rest and think about other things, such as finding that picture.

At which point I will relive my youth furthermore and post it.

For now, I wish you all a lovely farewell. Thanks so much for coming over to my blog.

With love from yours truly,

Natural Born Bleeding Heart