I don't tend to naturally turn to poetry when I want to read. And lately, I've been immersing myself in novels galore. So as I begin to prepare for my first year/first three weeks as a teacher, I find myself rereading poetry, especially Modernist poetry, as my first three weeks is a Modernism unit.
My heart leapt when I saw I was responsible for "The Great Gatsby," "Macbeth," and "Night" later in the semester, but a small amount of panic enveloped me when I saw that I was also responsible for Hemingway, Frost, Faulkner, and other greats starting next week.
And so I sat myself in Starbucks, reread T.S. Eliot's "The Wasteland" and then cried because of the sheer beauty of it all. This is going to be a great year.
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