My daughter Sarah. Just those words stop me. An now she is a mother-to-be, another pause for reflection. She is a 7th Grade teacher in Cambridge, Mass., and each Thursday she calls the homes of students, to tell their parents something good the students are doing. This is a flabbergasting development for parents and students alike. Sarah learned the habit from her first principal, a way to connect with parents and include them in their kids’ education. She is an evangelist for new and smart methods of teaching children to read. My daughter Sarah is a passionate teacher who spends a lot of the day these days feeling nauseaus. She drove me around Cambridge for a while as we looked for a place for lunch, settling on Ristorante Marino on Mass. Ave., where I had a decent spaghetti bolognase and she had a pizza marguerite. We talked nonstop, as usual. Her life is full, conscious, engaged, and purposeful. Listening to her, my mind enjoys surfing the speed and nuance of her thoughts, like enjoying a fine jazz piece. My daughter Sarah would be a fascinating young woman to know even if she wasn’t carrying some fresher part of myself wonderfully into the future.

Saturday, July 30, 2005

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