Signs of Spring – National Poetry Month Day 6

Signs of Spring

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The hostas, in hushed whispers
Poke their heads from the earth
And signal an all-clear

The crocus responds
Gentle, persistent,
Not wishing to interrupt
But clear to any who listen

And others, in turn, join the crescendo:
Daffodil, tulip, forsythia, lilac

Silenced, I join the world in
The deep, full breath
I had almost
Forgotten how to take.

Do You Remember Me? National Poetry Month, Day 5

Do You Remember Me?

You…
You, with that faded bonnet,
The microscopic handwriting,
The comics you drew me,
The moldy mess we excavated from your desk,
The orange sweatshirt you always wore,
The April Fool’s joke you played on the class,

How you didn’t speak until February,
How your grandma was your rock,
How you asked question after question after question,
How I worried about the sadness I sometimes saw in you
How I carried so much of you with me:
Your essays, your homework, your worries…

…You.

You, who I sent out like ripples
Wondering,
Awaiting your return
Like a present
I get to keep opening.

 

Why I write – Poetry month day 4

Why I Write

There is a certain
Satisfaction
That comes with cooking a good meal.
It’s the love stirred in
The effort of smelling, tasting, listening, editing
Until it seems just right
And the hungry ones take it in
And where there was once noise
There is the quiet
Of grateful and appreciative chewing.

And I think,
This is what I made, this piece
Of me I served out.
They like it,
And they are
Eating it up.

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?