I spent half of Thursday video-conferencing with students from Clover Hill High School in Midlothian, Virginia. We discussed poetry. The students, all sophomores, were incredible – bright, engaged, and very kind. I was honored to participate. Truly a highlight of the year. Their teacher, Heather Curran (oh how I wish I’d had a teacher as committed and interesting) reported this via her blog:
Anxiety will be the death of me. I am convinced of this. I will come up with a great idea for such-and-such a project, will start the process of going through the steps of getting the idea off the ground. I’ll do the research, start the planning, buy the materials.
And then, all of a sudden, the final product is about to be revealed and I stop. Dead. In my tracks. Insert as many cliches as you want. I won’t finish off whatever it is that I am doing because I am nervous that….
This is the part that destroys me.
I don’t even know what I’m nervous about. But I am. I am internally and emotionally cringing with wracking anxiety that something will….
I can’t even finish the sentence. I don’t know if it’s about failure or some other nebulous point. But the anxiety is there.
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