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<hr noshade color="#9999FF" width="85%" size="4" align="left"> <h2 class="title"><a href="http://www.montanaheritageproject.org/index.php/MichaelUmphrey/from_the_lit_window/">Teacher Evaluation</a> From The Lit Window</h2> by Michael L. Umphrey I am saying that whatever Frost is talking about he is also talking about something else--the place where at any moment we might find ourselves choosing among many things who we are. Janet looks out the window. I remember the first time her eyes opened to my showing, the pulse when the words became poetry--delighted seeing through pure shock. She smiles now the smile friends share amid the crowded blunders they also share. Craig looks at her then at me, frowning, certain more has occurred than he finds reason to believe. I read another poem, throwing gentle hints that work and don’t work like so many brilliant flies, cast in the mist happening between cottonwoods at the river’s edge in a quiet, transient dawn. At the back of the room the principal is keeping track of how often I pause and whether faces look up or down. The truth is such an absolute code I cannot help him, knowing all his data can never break it. Copyright 2009 Michael L. Umphrey