I came to the Mississippi Delta with the usual preconceptions of an impoverished land in need of help...a mystical world full of people who have grown up in a culture that is not like the culture I grew up in, a chance to learn.

The more places I live, and the more people I spend time with, the more difficult it becomes to identify with any particular culture. Why, after all, should the cultural experience we had first be the one that defines us?

In a packed high school gymnasium, I watched one of my "favorite" students from last year, now a senior (and I think it's true, by the way, that it's easier to get closer to juniors than freshman) sink 3-pointers , remembering how bright she is, smiling at her flippant attitude. No matter how much you hear about the Delta, you need this to really know what the stories mean. You don't really understand the dark side until you see your students, get to know them and understand their potential. When you see how talented they are, when you really see how bright they shine, then with the classic "stone-in-your-stomach" dread realize, time and time again, what is lost and what is tossed away, the dark part of this becomes clear.

If I had to choose, I would say that the single most defining aspect of teaching in the Mississippi Delta is the hair's breadth distance between intense hope and deep disappointment, between strength and failure. The ups and downs, as I've heard other teachers comment, are the most wearing aspect of this endeavor.