I just finished teaching a youth writing course at The Loft Literary Center in Minneapolis that I called "This Wild World: Writing About Nature." And I suppose this is where I do try to convince you: it was pretty sweet. Before class I'd walk out into fields and snip wild flowers and elegant weeds; I'd find poems by Mary Oliver, essays by Gary Paulsen, quotes by Thoreau; I'd think up questions that didn't have answers. And in class we'd talk and write about what and how the natural world can teach us. Even a blade of grass.
I'll go back to my full-time classroom in a few weeks, and where I will have less freedom in regard to answers—there are, after all, standardized tests—I'm hopeful that teaching experiences like the one I just had will stay fresh in my mind, and that between wrong and right, I will walk to those windows, pull back the blinds, and say, "Look!"