Priorities (National Poetry Month Day 3)

Priorities

Sometimes when I shower, I
(full of distractions) grip the soap
Too tightly, and
It pops right out of my hand.

I used to
Reach for it blindly,
Block it with my elbow,
Slow it down with my knee,
All to keep it from
Hitting the shower floor;
A valiant effort
That many times worked.

Until
One morning, my distracted self once again
Grabbed the soap.
As it slipped through my hands,
Time
Slowed
Down
And I thought
Well, maybe.
Maybe it would be okay this time
And no one would be hurt
And no one would get angry
And heroics look silly anyway
And I maybe could just

Let
It
Fall.

Poetry Month – Entry 2

The Poem I Didn’t Write

 

Was the one about
Our favorite tree,
The one out front that you can’t get your arms around.
The one my boys and I picnic under
On lazy summer days while we
Watch the drivers
Pass life by

The tree that grants quiet strength,
Steadfast devotion
(not unlike my father)

The tree my children worry someday will fall,
Or get sick and die.
What will happen when it is gone?
I can’t picture the changed landscape,
The lack of shade
The empty space.

The poem I didn’t write
Wanted to be about our favorite tree, yet
Sank its roots too deep.
It waits for me, unfinished
Awaiting a time
I am ready to dig.

-April 2013

The Same Coin

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When storyteller Yvonne Healy and I taught second and third graders storytelling, we were preparing our students for telling their stories to others. Some, being the little ones they were, showed signs of nervousness.

That’s when Yvonne taught them a trick that I’ve used to this day. She took out a penny and held it out to the kids face up. She asked them what it was, and of course they told her it was a penny. She took that same coin and flipped it the other direction, then asked the same question. Of course it was still a penny.

She then explained to the kids that the heads and the tails were two sides of the same coin. They are two different parts of the same thing. So, too, she said, were fear and excitement. Two sides of the same coin. One does not exist without the other.

It sure worked for those kids, and it certainly works for the student storytellers I’ve been working with (more on that later).

But tonight I’m feeling it intensely for myself. Yes, I am on my way to play my very first hockey game. Yes, on ice. Yes, with other people. No, not with either of my children watching.

And I have to confess that between fear and excitement, I’m feeling a substantial amount of both. I see that as a good thing.

The way I see it, I am always getting my students to put themselves into a zone of discomfort and take risks all the time. Why shouldn’t I give myself the opportunity to do the same? The opportunity to fail. The opportunity to fall. The opportunity to see what it’s like to be the least skilled person in the room, and yet still be satisfied with my progress and improvement. It’s a tall order for a perfectionist. Still, I don’t have the right to teach it to my kids if I can’t live it myself.

So I’ll be out there tonight. I will be the one struggling to skate, trying to figure out where to line up for face-offs, and looking pretty silly all around.

I can’t wait.

Today’s Riddle

So…

What do you get when you cross: A fourth grade class with one kid returning from China, two returning from Aruba, and three kids absent for a field trip; the first day of a third grade unit you had 45 minutes notice for, along with a lock-down drill, all in a room that isn’t your own; and a group of potentially squirrelly first-graders with a somewhat unstructured activity?

You get one HECKUVA day to have a sub.

Not sure I’m looking forward to the notes on my desk in the morning.

And you? What’s the worst position you’ve ever left a sub in, or the worst plans you’ve ever had to leave? Or subs, what’s the worst you’ve ever been left with?

All in a Day’s Work

I always promise myself I won’t do it.

I promise myself I won’t get behind on grading.

I promise myself I won’t collect more work than I can reasonably grade.

But when you see 37 different students for math alone, and you wait even a day or two to grade their papers, this is how you end up:

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…consider this a cautionary tale…

How about you teachers out there? Do you also measure your work to grade in inches, or hours worth of work? What’s the tallest stack you’ve ever had to face?

In Memoriam

Today is 27 years since the Challenger explosion.

I was in eighth grade science class. Our teacher turned on the TV so we could all watch the historic liftoff.

Yes, we were the jaded junior high kids, but we all felt a sense of pride as we watched the ignition, watched the rocket as it began its ascent, watched the trail as it aimed for the skies.

Then…just…a simple pop.

And nothing.

Silence.

Silence on the TV, silence in our classroom, silence in our minds.

Pop.

Our teacher flipped the television off.

Still silence.

The principal came on the loudspeaker to tell the school what had happened, and to ask for a moment of silence.

As if we hadn’t been having one already.

Breaking the silence was our teacher.

“Every astronaut risks his life to go up into space. And I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

NASA crew

To the brave ones: Michael J. Smith, Dick Scobee, Ronald McNair, Ellison Onizuka, Christa McAuliffe, Gregory Jarvis, Judith Resnik

 

 

Words, Words, Words

I know, I haven’t blogged in a little while. Right now, blogging just seems like words, words, and more words. I’m trying to figure out how I can put more words together, and I’m having a tough time.

Seriously, folks, it’s only Monday and I think I am officially done being articulate for the week.

I have spent hours (longer!?) crafting words:

-The right words for a particular e-mail

-The right words to negotiate through difficult meetings

-The right words for parents, students, or people from my volunteer work

-The right words for those tricky phone calls

-The right words for the people in my life who are going through difficult times

These are times when it’s hard to be someone who loves words. I appreciate that the right words are critical in difficult situations. I fully believe that the right words, delivered with sincerity and integrity, can make an incredible difference in this world. If I wish to make that difference, however, it saddles me with a burden:

Choose the right words now, or spend your time paying consequences for using the wrong ones.

I know it’s worth it. And I know I can spend hours on words and still not pick the perfect ones. (It doesn’t stop me from trying, though.)

I’d like to think that the right words, like love and strength, exist in unlimited supply. Still, it does get exhausting. So if you see me using fewer words than usual, don’t be surprised. It just means I’ve run out of good ones for a little while.