Introduction

What My Teachers Taught Me I Try to Teach My Students
by Maura Eichner

A bird in hand
is not to be desired.
In writing, nothing
is too much trouble.
Culture is nourished, not
by fact, but by myth.
Continually think of those
who were truly great
who in their lives fought
for life, who wore
at their hearts, the fire's
center. Feel the meanings
the words hide. Make routine
a stimulus. Remember
it can cease. Forge
hosannahs from doubt.
Hammer on doors with the heart.
All occasions invite God's
mercies and all times
are his seasons.

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This blog is a space where I will try to live one of my favorite poems. Here is where I will make the routine, the mundane, the everyday, a stimulus. Here is where I will attempt to forge hosannahs from the things that make me doubt. Here I will take a large hammer and pound open anything that encases my heart.

And here I will recount my days, I will make meaning of words, pictures, interactions that I have with my wife, son, mom and dad, friends and family, students and strangers. All I am trying to remember is that "all occasions invite God's mercies and all times are his seasons."