Poetry

     I love Prague. I really do. I'm having the time of my life here. I didn't realize how much I missed being a student until I found myself back in the world of studying, assignments, and yes, homework. I love the camaraderie of students, the act of flipping through books looking for answers. It's part of who I am. I know now that I'll never be able to get away from that. And really, would you want to stop learning? Would you want stop challenging yourself to think in new ways? I wouldn't. Academia is, and always will be part of my life, and I'm certainly fulfilling that need right now.
    My first two lessons went well. We'll have to teach seven altogether, five of them will be observed, and in order to get the certificate, you have to pass at least three. So far I've taught twice, been observed twice, and passed twice. It's a huge relief knowing that I can pass even my earliest attempts and that (hopefully) my lessons will only get stronger. I've had a blast, even with my grammar lesson today on different uses of auxiliary verbs. After class, I met with the student I'll see for my one-on-one assignment. He's a lovely older man who reads books in French, speaks at least four languages very well, and spoke of philosophy. It was very easy to talk to him for an hour, and I'm looking forward to seeing him again on Sunday. I'm not looking forward to having to analyze his skills, but at least I was paired with someone I know I'll get on with. So overall, school is going well. I've learned more about how stupid English is in a week and a half than I have in the entirety of my life. I simply cannot imagine how anyone ever learns to speak, read or write it. I'm enjoying my classes, for the most part. Some are obviously more compelling than others, but that's going to be the case with any course you take. I'm really happy with my choice to study here.
    But there's another part of me that's having trouble expressing itself: my poetical side. I noticed this most acutely on Saturday when a group of my classmates went down into the city center for a flea market and then split into smaller groups to wander around the city. I was in a very dreamy mood; both my mind and body felt very light, like I could sprout wings and soar over the red roofed buildings. When I'm with my very best friends, this part of me is amplified, and at that moment, walking along the river with three new friends, I wanted nothing more than to have one of them there with me. All the people here are wonderful. I couldn't ask for any better classmates, honestly. But I don't know any of them well enough to throw myself into the world with them, like I was longing to do. I wanted to throw my arms out, twirl around in circles, and just laugh for the joy of the simple Prague-ness of our lives now. I needed whimsy, I needed poetry.
     Life here so far is very prose-y. The people are prose-y, the very nature of our program (learning grammar, teaching techniques) is prose-y. And I appreciate prose. I love prose, the misleading simplicity of it, the unexpected depth of its sentences. I spent three years in school loving and reveling in prose. But I have poetry in me too, and right now I feel very unbalanced. I want poetry, to dance into castles singing silly Beatles songs. I want poetry, to marvel over boys with bright red socks and hallways that are brilliantly white (I'm imagining what some of my friends here might say if I were to exclaim over red socks and giggling). I want poetry, to embrace the absolute absurdity of being here, and my fears of waking up to realize it's only a dream. I want poetry, to fall desperately in love with playgrounds that float just beneath a castle, and streets that wind away into the unknown.
     I'm happy here, but it's in a very prosaic, filtered way. I want to see the world with rose-colored glasses, to have so much fun that people think I'm drunk, when really I'm only drunk on life. I want people who don't need to be in an altered state to act this way. This is what I miss most about you, dearest friends (and you know who you are). Of course I miss your beautiful faces and the depth of conversation that only comes from loving someone for so long, but those things can be simulated long-distance. The whimsical spirits missing from my life are impossible to recreate. I cannot explain it any more clearly than that. I haven't lost hope of finding someone here, but it could never be the same. So, come! Come visit, and we'll fall in love with life all over again, together.