When it rains it pours: the objective correlative

If an interior state can reflect in an exterior state, then it's pouring inside these tired bones. Lucky me, it's raining poetry and I feel so grateful for the storm of words ten students and I create on South campus. "Those who can, do; those who can't, teach gym,"-Laurie quoted from Annie Hall. But what of "Those who teach, can do anything!"? I feel as though by teaching a subject, the lucky instructor deepens her understanding of it, as if knowledge from the page mists the mind, a dewy-renewal. I feel Hayden's "Those Winter Sundays," dampen my boots; Blas Manuel de Luna, a new poet's name and Tijuana place that drizzle on my uncovered head on the way from the parking lot to the seventies building. Even the pock marked cinder block walls smile differently in this storm, flourescent lights switched off; computer sunshine, fingers tap drops to the keys and I feel like Gene Kelly.
Oren walked proudly into school, new spidey raincoat and umbrella, superhero weather. He sees a batman umbrella in Collin's cubby and trains my eyes to see his three foot world. He wants to learn to "fas forward" through commercials during Spidey shows. I teach him to press "the arrows" and he tells me the arrows are Christmas trees. His wonder and metaphors as natural as weather and when I notice, I believe that with the magic of words, we can do anything.