ABSTRACT
We wake up in the morning with the afterimages of dreams fading behind our eyes. We decorate, or shave, the face reflected in the mirror. In the kitchen, as we reach for the milk, we open a refrigerator festooned with snapshots, stick figures, and lopsided rainbows. We rattle the last bit of Cheerios into a bowl and begin preparing a mental grocery list, traveling up and down the aisles of our memory. On the way to work, we stop, turn corners, and park on autopilot, relying on responses to images that seemingly bypass consciousness. We climb the stairs to our building without looking at either feet or risers, depending on a body image that fails us only when we dance. The screensaver on the computer greets us. We shake the mouse awake, double click on the icon for Internet access, and enter cyberspace via a gateway of pictures. Finally, we gather our books, papers, and dry-erase markers; head out the door; enter our class; and begin-to talk. We banish our images to the nether regions and attempt to weave solely out of language a world that we call language arts.
