Tuesday, March 30, 2010
The last 45 minutes of my day consists of a class called ELD where I am supposed to help students increase their English Lanuage Development. Kids come from other 3rd grade classrooms to visit mine. They line up outside my door and wait to be invited in. When I went to invite them to come in, one of the girls said, "Are you teaching us again today?" "Yep," I said, half expecting something snarky to follow, but instead all the kids in the line cheered. They cheered! Then, I felt like crying for a different reason entirely.
It was a good moment.
Friday, March 26, 2010
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Monday, March 22, 2010
I mask them effectively with confidence
and a life filled with too much to do.
I do it so I can keep breathing.
So I am not consumed.
So I can move along silent and content.
So I can continue to remain wonderfully anonymous in this wide and full world.
I can feel it floating beneath my breathing,
beneath my busy and carefully planned life,
beneath this smile and quiet.
I can feel it seering inside my chest,
the open palms of my hands,
the soles of my feet.
My fear is wanting:
a dream or a wish or a life I may never have.
A fear that keeps me from what I want.
I am afraid.
I will lose it or push it away.
I will be hurt,
or broken against the quiet of this contented smile.
I fill my bed with lists.
Plans carefully crafted in my slanted hand,
written and erased,
I look busy quietly breathing,
but underneath the quiet,
I feel consumed.
Friday, March 12, 2010
Five things I cannot live without or in other words MY FIVE FAVES:
2. Yarn and needles.
4. NPR, specifically This American Life and the music segments.
5. The friends and family who make my life beautiful and valuable.
It's funny how, when you think about it, the little things in a life are the things that matter the most. So simple, but genius really.
Friday, March 5, 2010
Today's addition is dedicated to the wonderful world of poetry. Namely the poets whose work has changed me in some. Consequently, they are my favorites.
1. Mary Oliver. Her poem Wild Geese is one of the most beautiful things ever written. Whoever you are, no matter how lonely, the world offers itself to you imagination, calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting—over and over announcing your place in the family of things. One her lines has been running through my head a lot recently and I am left asking what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?
2. Adrienne Rich. If you like poetry at all, read Rich. She is a genius. I discovered her in anthology and instantly wanted more. To fill the need I went to a local bookstore's poetry shelves. I found Dream of a Common Language and was left crying in the stacks. Her work is that beautiful. ...Within two miles of this Pacific rounding this long bay, sheening light for miles/ inland, floating its fog through redwood rifts and over/ strawberry and artichoke fields, its bottomless mind/ returning always to the same rocks, the same cliffs,/ with everchanging words, always the same language/--this where I live now. If you had known me/ once, you'd still know me now though in a different/ light and life. This is no place you ever knew me.
3. Walt Whitman. His poems more than any others have shaped my own poetry. He taught me the importance of the little things, the beauty of the everyday.
I depart as air, I shake my white locks at the runaway sun,
I effuse my flesh in eddies, and drift it in lacy jags.
I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love,
If you want me again look for me under your boot-soles.
You will hardly know who I am or what I mean,
But I shall be good health to you nevertheless,
And filter and fibre your blood.
Failing to fetch me at first keep encouraged,
Missing me one place search another,
I stop somewhere waiting for you.
4. W. B. Yeats. Reading his work was when I first learned the power of poetry. I balanced all, brought all to mind./ The years to come seemed waste of breath,/ a waste of breath, the years behind/ in balance with this life, this death.
5. Louise Gluck. Her poetry is desperate and beautiful. It is grief and longing and shadows, glimpsed raw and then quietly healed.
When I woke up I was in a forest. The dark
seemed natural, the sky through the pine trees
thick with many lights.
I knew nothing; I could do nothing but see.
And as I watched, all the lights of heaven
faded to make a single thing, a fire
burning through the cool firs.
Then it wasn't possible any longer
to stare at heaven and not be destroyed.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
In the glow of the news, I feel happy and excited. I have to decide my region and grade preferences by March 23rd, which is proving to be very stressful. I would feel better if I could just turn my fate to the fates and say whatever is supposed to be will be. It is the personal input part that is causing me trouble. The region choices I initially listed were New York, Boston, and San Antonio, but I can change any of them if I want too. The grade preference is the easy choice, K to 3rd, and I am hoping for Kindergarten. Dear friends, Dear fate, Dear Father help me choose and give any input you think would help in the decision.