Day 11

A Numbers Sestina

Some things are meant for only one
Couples are required to be two
A triangle has angles, three
Fingers on a hand are four
Add a thumb for a fist, five
Half a dozen is a carton of six

Hotdog buns with two missing is six
A sun for our earth, just one
A bill with Lincoln, that’s five
Buckle my shoe, say two
Knock on the door, say four
Wheels on a tricycle, three

Legs on a tripod, three
Pick up sticks, that’s six
A double date would be four
A lonely number, that’s one
A pair of shoes, that’s two
Golden rings at Christmas, five

Arms on a starfish, five
A couple plus me, that’s three
Socks for the shoes would be two
A pack of soda would have six
Me? Well, there’s only one
Sides of a square would be four

My arms and legs make four
Toes in a half pedicure are five
The first is called number one
Singers in a trio, three
Legs on an insect, six
Sleeves on a shirt, two

Legs on pants, there are two
Legs on dogs, there are four
A guitar with strings, count six
Rhymes with hive, that’s five
Goldilocks and the bears, three
The first, the best, it’s one

Three people and six cookies, they’d each get two
Turn a dollar into quarters, you’d have four
Gimme five, take two, you ‘re left with three

PAD - Day 6

Addict

I desire to be a person who is dependent on God
Devoted to the divine
An enthusiast for the gospel
A follower of Christ

Not just in word, but in deed
A practitioner
A true believer
A lover of all that is good
All that is God

I desire to be a disciple
Enslaved by love
Inclined toward God's heart
Persuaded that nothing can sever
Me from Him

Ever

PAD Challenge Day 4

Unexpected Simple Pleasures

Delightful things

My first Mother’s Day – my son wearing
An “I Love You Mommy” button on his nightgown
when I go to lift him from his crib

A surprise party on our 25th anniversary
filled with family members, each a special joy

Meeting a cousin I never knew who is a writer and
now influences my writing self

A friend request on facebook
from someone I haven’t seen in over twenty years

Beach glass – a secret treasure from across the ocean

A student who reconnects me with her grandma’s cousin
who was my best friend in eight grade

The bone in the grass that my lab discovers
with pure joy all over again

a pleasant conversation with a stranger

Out of the Gloom

The night is broken
No longer the dark of dreams
But the light of day
Where I don’t need to be afraid
Of the past running in and out of the night
Where I can work
And focus on the now
And push aside the sadness
Of the night thoughts
Until the sun slips down in the sky
And sleep brings more confusion
And I awake glad the hours of darkness
Are over for a while
Morning has arrived once more
Severing the night grip on my heart

On top of teaching school and ALL that entails , writing articles for examiner.com, and working just a tad on my works-in-progress, I am now doing the November PAD (Poem a Day) Challenge. The first one could be a procrastination or a practive poem. Here is my mix of both, because I do sometimes procrastinate about doing certain things, but it's because others things get there first and I think it's all important. Which it isn't. So sometimes I go in circles.

Here's my effort...


Postponed Push

In between procrastination
And proactivation
I put off pleasures
As I putter
Frantically fretting
The list goes on
Neverending burdens
Frittering my hours
As a dedicated dawdler
My commission, my mission
A quest for time
From later to leisure
One day I say
When I'm finished
When it's done

Student Responses

Test Question: Compare yourself to the man by the pool of Bethesda:

Some student answers:

“We are all paralyzed. And when Jesus comes to ask us if we want to be healed, we all turn it down. We all keep pushing it away and one day Jesus is gonna come back and say I never knew you. He is gonna walk away. So when Jesus asks us if we want to be healed, we should all say yes. So we can take up our bed of evil and walk away and glorify God.”

“The man could not do anything without help and we can’t do anything without the help of the LORD.”

“Comparing myself to the man at the pool is easy. I think without Jesus we are all paralyzed.”

“The man at the pool did not believe at first and then he did, just like me. And he is a sinner just like me and all humans.”

“It was just like us. Before we were saved we were crippled. But when we accepted Him, He healed our hearts.”

“That man was crippled physically and spiritually. I am weak spiritually; I can’t save myself like the man couldn’t lift himself into the water. I rely on Jesus.”

Hank

He sits so drowsy
In his seat
Eyelids in the halfway position
Blankness behind them
He does not know the page number
He does not know the answer
He does not even know
He isn’t wholly there
I do not know where he goes
"Yes, ma’am!” he snaps to attention
The paper flutters to the ground
The book tumbles to the floor
The pencil rolls off the desk
So we begin once more
Seven minutes later
He sits so drowsy
In his seat
Gone again

First Day

My first day on the job and I’m late
Gum on the bottom of my shoe
At the elevator-wait, wait, wait
Now what am I gonna do?

Gum on the bottom of my shoe
Walk-stick-walk-stick-walk
Now what am I gonna do?
At the door I begin to balk

Walk-stick-walk-stick-walk
Oh, no! My stockings have a run
At the door I begin to balk
This morning’s certainly no fun

Oh, no! My stockings have a run
Now I’m really starting to sweat
This morning’s certainly no fun
And my boss I haven’t met yet

Now I’m really starting to sweat
Circles forming under my pits
And my boss I haven’t met yet
I’m about to lose my wits

Circles forming under my pits
Secretary says, “He will see you now.”
I’m about to lose my wits
But in I walk somehow

The Writer

Yearning to find the precise words
Digging deep for crumbs
From life and thoughts and wishes
Longing to shape stories
From sights and smells and memories
Desiring to impact a heart one day
With poetic phrases and images
Wanting to change someone’s world
With a tale or a verse or thought

The Effective Teacher

These are my thoughts,written for an assignment at work/school.

The effective teacher has very large shoes to fill. Not only do lessons need to be planned and taught in a clear manner to a complex class of students, but this instruction needs to be delivered in an atmosphere of patience and understanding.

An effective teacher cares deeply. The education of students is foremost in this teacher’s thoughts, but knowing each child personally is equally important. In my teaching career I have found that the students who are struggling almost always have something going on in their home that is bothering them and hindering their learning. Many times I have made allowances for a student who is experiencing a hardship of some sort. I have been a listening ear and a shoulder to cry on. Yet, I find myself losing patience too often in the classroom with students who really need some kindness. I believe this can be resolved with prayer; by asking God to help me to be more Christ like in my treatment of those He has put under my care.

An effective teacher also recognizes complexity. Teaching involves planning, scheduling, dispersing information, leading, guiding, modeling, motivating, and often reteaching. No two students are alike, so lessons need to reflect the various learning styles and levels of the students in a given class. I have to remind myself often that I am dealing with a wide range of students with a variety of needs. I’ve learned that it is often necessary to go back to a lesson and approach it in a different manner in order for my students to grasp the intended concept. I plan to continue searching out new ways to attract my students’ attention and entice them to learn the material they are required to know.

Communicating clearly is something every good teacher must achieve if students are to take hold of the material being presented. Not only should lessons be plainly communicated, but classroom rules, procedures, and expectations need to be presented and practiced so each student knows what is required. Sometimes I find myself going too fast and I have to stop, repeat directions, and slow down. I am still learning that I don’t have to always cover an entire textbook in order to complete a successful year. If my students learn, grow, and make progress then I have done my job.

An effective teacher must be conscientious in planning, managing, and communicating. I know that I am very hard working, but I think I need to be sure my efforts are going in the right direction. I don’t want to be spinning my wheels, or for that matter reinventing the wheel. Instead I want to keep the wheels turning in the brains of the students under my care. I want to enthuse and enlighten, enliven and encourage, and occasionally entertain. I want to be the teacher they remember, not because I embarrassed them but because I listened to their stories. I want to be remembered not as the Queen of Detention, but perhaps as that teacher who turned them on to reading or helped them to love poetry.

In order to be that successful and flourishing teacher, I need to remember the words of Proverbs 16, verse 3: Commit your work to the LORD, and your plans will be established. This is my prayer.

Home Ec

At fourteen I cut the pieces carefully
According to the directions
And stitched that hideous
Kettle cloth jumper
That I would not wear
It did not fit
Nothing much fit
When I was fourteen

Written for Day 11 of Writer's Digest November PAD

Off My Usual Topic

This was written for a "job" on Amazon Mechanical Turk.....

Mrs. Candle’s, was a much respected member of the local church whose life was snuffed out yesterday after a strong wind made its way into the sanctuary. Known for her elegance, she has graced the weddings of generations of lovers as she played a crucial part in the ceremony that united husband and wife. A pillar of the community, Mrs. Candle glowed as she worked, never tiring of shedding light in the darkness. A beacon of hope in the midst of trials, a shining light for all to see, her luminosity preceded her everywhere she went. Preceded in death by her first husband, Mr. Lighter, she leaves behind four votives and seven tealights. The candlelight service will be held at Radiance Gardens, after which Mrs. Candle’s remains will be melted and recycled according to her last wishes.

What's Next?

This will be a bittersweet posting for me and a complete change is in store for this blog. After eighteen years (five homeschooling and thirteen in the classroom) I will not be going “back to school”.

As a kid I loved school, especially the beginning of the year. There was the trip downtown to Sears to get a few new clothes, the excitement of meeting a new teacher and seeing friends again, the school smell that seems to be universal. When it was time for my kids to go, I loved picking out lunchboxes, buying them a few new clothes at the mall, and taking the first-day-of-school pictures in front of the house. And there was still that smell when I entered their classrooms.

When we homeschooled I enjoyed buying curriculum as well as making my own. I loved the planning and the teaching and the days when we read Little House on the Prairie. I was thrilled when I taught my youngest to read at five and saw her begin to devour books, just like her siblings.

In 1996, I took my first paid job teaching in a Christian school and then began the final leg of my education in January of 1997. Finally, in 1998, at age 39, I graduated with a BS in Elementary Education. I have been teaching in many diverse areas ever since, both in Polk County and St. Johns County, Florida. I’ve been in schools where over 50% of the students were Hispanic and whose parents could not speak English; and I’ve been in schools where some of the kids lived in million dollar homes with maids and nannies. I’ve taught gifted children as well as learning disabled, physically disabled and autistic. I’ve been praised by parents and put-down by principals, hugged by little ones and disrespected by middle schoolers. Over the years I’ve received many gifts, from hefty gift cards to a large pink rock. But the best gifts were the ones no one could see. Like the parent who told me her child had never like writing and now she had a notebook with her everywhere she went. Or the note thanking me for teaching poetry from the kid who then gave me a copy of an excellent poem he had written. Or seeing my students win awards for speeches so full of their own thoughts and ideas, delivered with excellent rhetoric.

Where do I go from here? I do not know. It is a bit of a grieving process. Earlier this summer I read these words from Psalm 6 and could definitely relate: vs.6 – I am weary with my groaning; all night I make my bed swim; I water my couch with my tears. vs.9 – The LORD has heard my supplication; the LORD will receive my prayer.

Then I came upon chapter sixteen, vs. 11 – You will show me the path of life: in Your presence is fullness of joy; at Your right hand there are pleasures for evermore. I don’t know what the future holds, but I know Who holds the future. It may be a trial or an adventure, or I may even return to teaching one day. But for now I will try to make the best use of my time and wait for what lies ahead.

Walter Jones Historical Park

Walter Jones Historical Park

Posted using ShareThis

For Peek's Sake

What would you do for a peek? We’ve become a nation of peekers. We want to know what everyone else is doing. Photographers who peek get their photos on the cover of The Enquirer. “Peeping Toms” who peek and get caught are arrested. Students who peek and get caught get an F.

But, I’m peeker, too. I’m a Facebook peeker and it’s addictive. I don’t watch reality shows on TV, but Facebook is like the Ultimate Reality Show. These are people I know, or friends of a friend, or maybe I don’t know them at all. It’s like middle school all over again – who has the most friends or who has the most posts on their wall. For those of us who don’t have a huge friends list there are always photo albums. We just know everyone’s dying to see Uncle John blowing out candles at his 79th birthday party. Or Junior crying because he’s tired and doesn’t want his picture taken AGAIN! And what is with everybody sticking our their tongues? It’s just not funny anymore. Yet, I keep taking a “peek” thinking I’ll miss something important. Meanwhile, my dishes are dirty and I haven’t made those phone calls yet and where did the time go? It’s 5:30 and I have nothing to cook for supper!!

He Was in a Big Tree House with Him and His Self

There is no escaping ourselves. Wherever we go, there we are with us. Though the grass seems greener on the other side, when we go to lie down in the meadow we find those same red ants biting at our legs. To use a popular expression, we take our “baggage” with us most of the time. Be it problems, personality, habits, or the extra twenty pounds.

When we lived in Lake Wales, Florida we rented a house with a tree house about 10-12 feet off the ground. The way to get in was by climbing a rope, so that kept me out. Our three older children loved it! I imagine it was great fun to have a place to go to be alone, or play with each other – a place where the grown ups didn’t go. A place to pretend or read or spy on those people below. A place to escape the world for a while, but never to escape from self.

So, here I am now in this “big tree house” with myself. I am alone often, so I can read or daydream or spy on the neighbors. But, what can I do here to glorify God?

I thought moving would make a huge difference for me four years ago. And it did make some differences for the better. We were able to purchase a nice home, live closer to our parents and reconnect with family. We were here when our family needed us and I am thankful for that. I see, a little but not enough, that God’s ways are not our ways. I think of the story of Joseph and his brothers. They wanted to harm him when they threw him in the pit, and he did suffer for many, many years. But, God meant it for good. This was the way Joseph was placed in the right place at the right time and saved Egypt during the seven years of famine.

Oh, I wish I were like Joseph. I wish I could endure being in the pit without feeling sorry for myself. I don’t really know how Joseph felt – maybe he DID feel self-pity. But, I know he endured it to God’s glory. He stayed an honest and upright man and became the second in command under Pharaoh. This is my prayer – to be an honest and upright woman and to be used of God.

“You want to Know Where Baloo is? He is in New Hamsterdam”

With the abundance of technology available to kids with the internet and television, it’s amazing that so many students still have no grasp of geography. I must admit it’s not my best subject, but it amazes me when a child in upper elementary school doesn't know that Kentucky is a state or Australia is a country. Recently, I had a sixth grader answer on a test that England was in West America!

As a teacher I wonder how to get this knowledge to them so they can see the big picture. I think they need to know where in the world they are to help them decide later on where they want to go and what they want to do. When I was growing up I never thought much about countries, except for the fact they were “foreign” and, I supposed, all backwards compared to the United States. I assumed most countries, except perhaps England, were still fairly primitive. I never knew about the big world out there. Now that I do, I want to see more of it. I want to visit the places I read about in history books. I want to see the wonders God created. I want to see Holland; not Amsterdam, or “New Hamsterdam”, but Delft.

Alen was Poor All His Life. It Runs in the Family.

Why is it that some family characteristics are handed down from generation to generation and some are not?

For instance, red hair pops up in my family, often skipping generations. Some of my grandma’s brothers and sisters had it, but then it was only passed to one of my cousins. Yet, two others of my generation, not red heads, ended up with a red-headed child.

Then there’s the infamous “Bailey head” as my dad ( NOT a Bailey) called it. The Bailey head is a bit large. And the Bailey nose is a bit wide. I was fortunate to be blessed with both. I don’t know where my little “chest” came from, but my unhappy daughters are also the recipients of this diminutive trait. However, these are all just physical attributes.

Sometimes poverty does seem to “run in the family”, but not always. Not in our family, though, or at least it didn’t use to. My parents were poor, both having been raised by single mothers. My dad’s father died when Dad was four. He had a ruptured appendix and gangrene set in before he could get from out in the country to Atlanta for medical attention. My mom’s father deserted his family on the side of the road when she was just a babe in arms. So, both of my grandmothers were the sole providers for their family. I never knew my dad’s mom as she passed away just before I was born. But my Grandma Bryan I did know, yet I didn’t understand how hard she had worked all her life until I was an adult. She worked in textile factories, raised five children, and would never divorce or declare dead the man who left her.

As a result, my parents knew what it was like to grow up without luxuries. They never went without food or clothes, but I know they often had very little. My dad would tell me about eating onion sandwiches. My mom was working and buying her own clothes on a $2.00–a-week plan when she was fourteen. They learned to work hard, make-do with little and do without a lot. As for myself, I never wanted for any necessities when I was growing up.

Dad worked hard to provide for us financially, allowing Mom to stay home and provide us with stability, security, and her time and talents. Their thrift allowed us to have a carefree childhood. We worked around the house to earn our allowance, but we were never worried about food or clothing.

We were very comfortable by the world’s standards. But, we were also rich in something that can’t be measured. That was the feeling of belonging to a family and to knowing home was a safe place of refuge. And love. We were rich in love. And love is one thing I want to continue to “run in the family”.

It’s Not About Money, It’s About How You Like Your Life

Money. So many clichés. I do need some. I do like it. But it can become a burden. Getting money, having it, using it, losing it. All these aspects are often tangled up in emotions.

The way I get my money is by teaching. And I truly enjoy teaching but am getting ever tired of the tasks, forced upon me by the government, that take my time away from my students. I love planning lessons, I love it when a kid says, “This is fun!” and I’m thrilled when I see progress in their writing skills. I just wish it weren’t such a burden - the paperwork, the administration, the parental expectations.

Money seems to be the driving force. Money pits school against school to see who gets the money, er, excuse me, the A+ money. Now we are blackmailed into a program that would pit teacher against teacher for a bonus that’s just not worth it.

I don’t like my job, my life, when I feel like I’m being manipulated. I don’t like being part of such a corrupt system. It’s less and less about the child and more and more about the money. Show me the money? No thanks!

Poem a Day Challenge Day 28

Although this was day 28 it was my last one written. It's a sestina using iambic pentameter - whew - a real fun challenge - one of my favs!

By The Sea

Awakening to a morning glorious
She puts on the wide brimmed hat for a walk
Anxious for what she will soon discover
Three blocks down she can distinguish the waves
It’s early and time for the sun’s kindness
It’s early and time for the wind’s mercy

She walks in affection and in mercy
Bright gold hypericums are glorious
Surf immerses tender toes in kindness
So sweet is every novel morning’s walk
Slender sea oats on the dunes sigh and wave
Serenity is her discovery

Back at her bungalow she discovers
A basket of fruit left there in mercy
Looking around, her neighbor nods and waves
Pineapple, mango all so glorious
Sustenance to continue in her walk
Through friend and stranger both is warm kindness

At her desk she writes in simple kindness
To tell of wonders she has discovered
With her words they along her path, too, walk
Filled with her spirit of cheerful mercy
On page in syllables glorious
New and marvelous words appear in waves

Afternoon clouds roll on gently waving
The seagull’s chatter to her ears is kind
Her prayers are soft, soaring up to glory
Her joy refreshed, renewed, rediscovered
Praises sung to God for all His mercies
Grateful even now for the days she’s walked

Down this solitary road she has walked
Recollections flood over her in waves
She takes comfort now in tender mercies
Not lonely, surrounds herself in kindness
Her joy yet by others undiscovered
‘Tis faith and hope and love- ‘tis glorious!

How glorious are steps upon her walk
Discoveries of life appear in waves
Kindness comes to take her home in mercy