With a shock to my sleeping patterns, the school year has begun. Teenagers stomp, clomp, or tiptoe into my classroom. Some give me smiles from beneath their hair. Some scowl at me, silently asking me just to leave them alone. Most of them just ignore me, eager to rejoin their boyfriend or girlfriend in the hallways after class. I brightly smile, try not to be too sarcastic at first, and welcome them into my life for 45 minutes each day for the next 9 months. I watch them to see how they react to me, try to memorize their names, try not to judge them by appearances. I try to ignore the boys with pants held up with a belt around their thighs. I look past the girls with caked-on make-up and the brand new cheerleading uniforms. I giggle at the punk rock kids who think they have just discovered Operation Ivy and combat boots. I have 135 new people in my life. What kind of art will they make? How will they change me? How will I change them?
