cast

Life is vague. It's a topography of feelings and ideas, filled with hills and plains of indescribable subtlety. We can hold a candle up to the detail, to become more aware of what we're going through, but we often forget to light our candles. Our fascination is blown out by critics carrying thousand-watt bulbs, denying a softer contrast; we are taught in a harsh light to claim the bright peaks and ignore the shadowy valleys. The spotlights, powered by generations of inherited obedience, slowly burn out our toddler eyes. A teacher's job is to put back the candle in place of the bulb, to send one with a sensitive flame into the delicate shadow, to see what's there.

I had never heard of Arcade Fire until somebody comped me a ticket last week. The show was sincere, the music warm and layered. Of all the things a concert can do for somebody, that show will make me a better teacher. For the entire concert I had this visceral sense that the band members were giving me and the rest of the audience something of themselves. I know this is really basic, but I had never felt it so acutely. I had just taught two long classes before the show, asking my students questions, giving them nuggets of thought and searching for their responses. But offering knowledge and offering music are nearly the same thing. I kept watching the interaction between the band performance and the audience response. The thing that fascinated me was the sincerity that came through the performance. Despite the ego games that musicians and teachers play, the sincerity is still there, and that's what makes the performance. I really think that show is going to make me a more sincere teacher.