It's time to plant cabbage and kale. The seedlings are in hand and so is the Black Cow. Tomorrow is a good day for planting, and into the ground they will go, in the spot where just three weeks ago swallowtail caterpillars were chewing the bark off the fennel and pursuing the parsley down to the ground. Six blue knight kale, six savoy cabbage, six charmant cabbage. If I'm lucky, the possum and the raccoon will be on a field trip and my seedlings may remain in the ground until they are big enough to hold on for themselves.
Since my colleague Judy challenged me several years ago to come up with a new metaphor for school, I have thought of my classroom as a garden. For several years my classroom garden and my vegetable garden have been getting all the attention, while the rest of the yard is on survival maintenance.
Here at the end of the season, the orange hibiscus I planted have had an unexpected revival--thriving on neglect--and are sending up blooms that catch the warm end of the spectrum from the late afternoon light.
In my classroom, the juniors are embracing Hamlet as warmly as if he were their best friend hitting a rough patch. Think elegantly, act clumsily. If only we all handled a tight spot that well. The seniors are entering the Congo River with trepidation. Next week, after planting the balanced contrast and metonymy, I will be watering and monitoring for insight. And so it grows.
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