In Honor Of Halloween

My two favorite Halloween Poems... One more silly, one more sinister, both classics, though one is more high brow than the other... Enjoy!

Porphyria's Lover
By Robert Browning


The rain set early in to-night,
The sullen wind was soon awake,
It tore the elm-tops down for spite,
And did its worst to vex the lake:
I listen'd with heart fit to break.
When glided in Porphyria; straight
She shut the cold out and the storm,
And kneel'd and made the cheerless grate
Blaze up, and all the cottage warm;
Which done, she rose, and from her form
Withdrew the dripping cloak and shawl,
And laid her soil'd gloves by, untied
Her hat and let the damp hair fall,
And, last, she sat down by my side
And call'd me. When no voice replied,
She put my arm about her waist,
And made her smooth white shoulder bare,
And all her yellow hair displaced,
And, stooping, made my cheek lie there,
And spread, o'er all, her yellow hair,
Murmuring how she loved me—she
Too weak, for all her heart's endeavour,
To set its struggling passion free
From pride, and vainer ties dissever,
And give herself to me for ever.
But passion sometimes would prevail,
Nor could to-night's gay feast restrain
A sudden thought of one so pale
For love of her, and all in vain:
So, she was come through wind and rain.
Be sure I look'd up at her eyes
Happy and proud; at last I knew
Porphyria worshipp'd me; surprise
Made my heart swell, and still it grew
While I debated what to do.
That moment she was mine, mine, fair,
Perfectly pure and good: I found
A thing to do, and all her hair
In one long yellow string I wound
Three times her little throat around,
And strangled her. No pain felt she;
I am quite sure she felt no pain.
As a shut bud that holds a bee,
I warily oped her lids: again
Laugh'd the blue eyes without a stain.
And I untighten'd next the tress
About her neck; her cheek once more
Blush'd bright beneath my burning kiss:
I propp'd her head up as before,
Only, this time my shoulder bore
Her head, which droops upon it still:
The smiling rosy little head,
So glad it has its utmost will,
That all it scorn'd at once is fled,
And I, its love, am gain'd instead!
Porphyria's love: she guess'd not how
Her darling one wish would be heard.
And thus we sit together now,
And all night long we have not stirr'd,
And yet God has not said a word!

and

The Little Orphan Annie
by James Whitcomb Riley

Little Orphan Annie's come to my house to stay.
To wash the cups and saucers up and brush the crumbs away.
To shoo the chickens from the porch and dust the hearth and sweep,
and make the fire and bake the bread to earn her board and keep.
While all us other children, when the supper things is done,
we sit around the kitchen fire and has the mostest fun,
a listening to the witch tales that Annie tells about
and the goblins will get ya if ya don't watch out!

Once there was a little boy who wouldn't say his prayers,
and when he went to bed at night away up stairs,
his mammy heard him holler and his daddy heard him bawl,
and when they turned the covers down,
he wasn't there at all!
They searched him in the attic room
and cubby hole and press
and even up the chimney flu and every wheres, I guess,
but all they ever found of him was just his pants and round-abouts
and the goblins will get ya if ya don't watch out!!

Once there was a little girl who always laughed and grinned
and made fun of everyone, of all her blood and kin,
and once when there was company and old folks was there,
she mocked them and she shocked them and said, she didn't care.
And just as she turned on her heels and to go and run and hide,
there was two great big black things a standing by her side.
They snatched her through the ceiling fore she knew what shes about,
and the goblins will get ya if ya don't watch out!!

When the night is dark and scary, and the moon is full
and creatures are a flying and the wind goes Whoooooooooo,
you better mind your parents and your teachers fond and dear,
and cherish them that loves ya, and dry the orphans tears
and help the poor and needy ones that cluster all about,
or the goblins will get ya if ya don't watch out!!!

Happy Halloween!

(Note, while I am aware of some more sinister connotations to this holiday and have never condoned ritualistic or occult practices for exactly that reason, I do feel that in a loving and supportive family/community this "holiday" can supply a lot of good lean fun for children and adults alike. I also believe strongly in a parent's right to disagree to that to, so long as that opinion is not forced on me. There are a lot of great churches that have "Fall Festivals" or "Pumpkin Parties" for the kids and those are terrific alternatives too. I have participated in a lot of those over the years. In my class I focus on spooky and interesting literature during this time period, just as I focus on more romantic pieces in February, because as a shameless promoter of literature, I'll use anything I can to grab a kid's attention and get them excited about literature!)

Go read something scary and if it's good, share it with a friend!

Being Mercutio

So, last night I was having a conversation with a friend. I think I may have upset her a bit. Further, I think she thinks this is about being single. And while I can't say this has nothing to do with that, it's not as big a factor as you'd think and there is so much more to it than that.

We were talking and I told her that I had come to the conclusion that I am really not the main character in this life. I am a Mercutio.

He was an important character. People like him, he stands out and is remembered, but it's not his story, it's not about him and he doesn't make it to the big finale.

She said that none of us is the main character, God is, at which point I knew she didn't understand what I was saying at all. Then she asked if I would think I was a main character if I was married. This was another indicator to me that she missed the point. Which isn't really her fault. Her life makes sense, it's working and she is the main character.

I have no idea how this is going to work with Nana at the personal care home. I have no idea how my life is going to work out at all regardless. People around me think I am funny, witty, confidant, together. I'm not even making that up, people have used those four words at me in the past week for several reasons.

And I think about Mercutio. He was dying and no one even knew. He is the most popular character in a play that is not about him. He is only a supporting character and in the end he was not in finale, he was just one of those who were gone.

Now, before anyone calls me about being crazy, suicidal, homicidal or depressed, I'm not. Let's settle that issue now. This was the other thing I was trying to explain to my well intentioned friend. This reality is not as upsetting to me as I thought it would be. Because I also think about Samuel.

There are two books in the bible called Samuel. He is an important figure in biblical literature. But those books were not about him. They were about Daniel, a man after God's own heart. The books were named after him, he mattered, and he served God, but he was the supporting character.

So, I'm okay with that.

On a different note...

A student sent me an e-mail yesterday about how he had gone looking on the Internet looking for good essays. He found one and just had to share it with me.

The e-mail he sent was one of the most hysterical things I have read in some time. Also, how cool is it that a student of mine was interested enough in what we've been talking about to go looking for it and critique as well.

Pardon me while I polish an apple on my shirt for a second.

This week Nana and I are babysitting two dogs that belong to a really great couple I know and their son. The dogs are Jack and Simon. Simon is a very old retriever/lab mix and Jack is some kind of small fluffy lap dog. The pair of them are a hoot. Jack helped me catch another mouse. Or more specifically, I caught another mouse in a sticky trap and Jack brought it and set it up on the couch for me. Wasn't that sweet?

Anyway, so for Thanksgiving we had a canine heard. Roo is not real keen on all of this, but Piper is in Dog Heaven. It's a good thing and Nana is amused if slightly confused. Counting to two was an occasional challenge for her. Four is down right difficult.

My cold is getting better and I still have two days before going back to work.

Good Day.

Huh?

Today I covered another teacher's class for forty five minutes. One student began to complain about another students studying habits. They were quick reviewing for a test. The complaining student had moved to the place where the oddly studying student was sitting. I looked at the little whiner and said,

"Your feet nailed to the floor?"

He answered,

"Huh?" Then he looked at his feet.

Another student looked up at him and said,

"She really is a teacher. She won't give you the answer straight, she makes you work for it."

The kid sat there for another moment and then said, loudly...

"Oh! I can totally just move!"

Ya think?

TKAMB and Good vs Bad

I call To Kill a Mocking Bird, TKAMB. (That's right, an acronym...) The truth is I had never read the book until I had to teach it. Now I love it.

We had a great conversation in my class because of it today. The question of right and wrong and good and bad. While many of us can draw lines on right and wrong (though sometimes it is harder to figure out than I'd like) good and bad becomes more difficult. Today we were talking about the character of Mrs. Deboise.

This woman seemed awful. She said terrible racist things to the children. Yet Atticus, clearly good Atticus, respected and admired her. How does that work? We talked about Mel Gibson, and when we say the worst thing we can think of to someone we care about and then go back to the "I didn't mean it" later and whether or not that is really true. We talked about good people we knew that then surprised us with a not so good thing and whether that made the person no longer good in our eyes.

It was a really good conversation and I really enjoyed listening to my students today.

What a funny little song

But I love it for some reason. It appears in the movie "The Doctor" with William Hurt. He plays a doctor diagnosed with cancer who has to come to face his own humanity and mortality. Elizabeth Perkins is another cancer patient, though terminal, who helps him through it. They dance together on the plains in one scene, just feeling a moment, to this music. The words are even stranger than the melody, but I just love it.

Strange Angels, by Laurie Anderson

They say that heaven is like TV
A perfect little world
that doesn't really need you
And everything there
is made of light
And the days keep going by
Here they come Here they come
Here they come.

Well it was one of those days larger than life
When your friends came to dinner
and they stayed the night
And then they cleaned out the refrigerator -
They ate everything in sight
And then they stayed up in the living room
And they cried all night

Strange angels - singing just for me
Old stories - they're haunting me
This is nothing
like I thought it would be.

Well I was out in my four door
with the top down.
And I looked up and there they were:
Millions of tiny teardrops
just sort of hanging there
And I didn't know whether to laugh or cry
And I said to myself:
What next big sky?

Strange angels - singing just for me
Their spare change falls on top of me
Rain falling Falling all over me
All over me
Strange angels - singing just for me
Old Stories - they're haunting me
Big changes are coming
Here they come
Here they come.

I love this poem and it's totally how I felt today!

Cow
By Selima Hill

I want to be a cow
and not my mother’s daughter.
I want to be a cow
and not in love with you.
I want to feel free to feel calm.
I want to be a cow who never knows
the kind of love you ‘fall in love with’ with;
a queenly cow, with hips as big and sound
as a department store,
a cow the farmer milks on bended knee,
who when she dies will feel dawn
bending over her like lawn to wet her lips.

I want to be a cow,
nothing fancy –
a cargo of grass,
a hammock of soupy milk
whose floating and rocking and dribbling’s undisturbed
by the echo of hooves to the city;
of crunching boots;
of suspicious-looking trailers parked on verges;
of unscrupulous restaurant-owners
who stumble, pink-eyed, from stale beds
into a world of lobsters and warm telephones;
of streamlined Japanese freighters
ironing the night,
heavy with sweet desire like bowls of jam.

The Tibetans have 85 words for states of consciousness.
This dozy cow I want to be has none.
She doesn’t speak.
She doesn’t do housework or worry about her appearance.
She doesn’t roam.
Safe in her fleet
of shorn-white-bowl-like friends,
she needs, and loves, and’s loved by,
only this –
the farm I want to be a cow on too.

Don’t come looking for me.
Don’t come walking out into the bright sunlight
looking for me,
black in your gloves and stockings and sleeves
and large hat.
Don’t call the tractorman.
Don’t call the neighbours.
Don’t make a special fruit-cake for when I come home:
I’m not coming home.
I’m going to be a cowman’s counted cow.
I’m going to be a cow
and you won’t know me.

Source: Astley, Neil (ed.) (2002) Staying Alive: real poems for unreal
times, Tarset: Bloodaxe.

The poetry book this is from, by the way, Staying Alive, totally awesome. It's a book everyone should have. There is another poem in there, called "A Puppy Called Puberty" that is terrific. Hysterical too.

Poetry

If novels are movies, short stories are like a series of pictures and and poetry is an impressionist or abstract paintings. Impressionist paintings don't have defines lines, they get more clear and defined the further away you get from it. Abstract pictures are based in concept and not reality. Stories are about conveying ideas, messages and concepts. Poetry is about conveying emotions. Emotions don't have edges they are more defined the further away you are and the lines get blurrier the closer you get. Poetry is based in the concept, and often have little to do with the concrete reality.

Further finding poetry you like is like walking through a huge art galary. There are lost os painting you pass quickly saying, "I don't get it." There are others you pass and think, in passing, "that's nice enough." and then there are the ones you stop and stand in front of for hours because they speak to your soul. Poems are hit or miss like that. Critics and peers don't matter, only what speaks to your soul in that way only art can.

That is what I told my kids today as I introduced poetry. I read them Mark Strand's Eating Poetry and other poems I like (Cow, Forgetfulness, Being in Love, Happiness, Dark Angel and Plath's Daddy.) I couldn't read them "A Puppy Called Puberty" because I I didn't want to deal with the parental phone calls.

Anyway, first period was kind of cold, second period was very warm and third period was two thirds enthralled and one third asleep.

But all in all it was a good day doing the part of my job I truly love, sharing the joy that is poetry.

In the Court of Life

My students had a rude awakening today.

They thought that a "fun" assignment meant that they could show up, giggle, and goof off and that it would essentially be a free day. Oh my, were they wrong.

The first student or "witness," who played a character from "The Red Headed League" who didn't know the story well enough to answer a rather basic question, ended up being a bit embarrassed when I jumped in to help cross examine them.

There was a lot of rapid skimming and studying going on in all three classes.

I'd feel bad about flustering kids, but they need to learn sometime, better while with me than when it really matters, right?

L.A. Law

Today in class my students read "The Red Headed League" by Sir Aurthur Conan Doyle. It's a Sherlock Holmes mystery. There has been something I have always wanted to do with this story as it is a bit dry. But until now my students were not uniformly advanced enough to pull it off.

I had the student take parts and tomorrow they are going to try the character of Duncan Ross for attempted robbery.

One problem.

These kids had no idea how a trial works or what a prosecuting (or defence) attorney is. Seriously.

Didn't they ever watch L.A. Law, Night Court, Law and Order, The Practice, my gracious what is this world coming to when kids can't even learn about our judicial system from television anymore!

Boy I can't wait to watch this in the morning.

A Reputation...

Overheard...

"Which one is that teacher in the trailer?"

"You know, the one that was wearing purple yesterday."

"Who pays attention to what color they are wearing?"

"You know, the one that tried to fall up the hill during the fire drill..."

"Oh yeah, that's Miss X, the real tall lady."

Yes, when I tried to exit the practice field after the fire drill I tried to walk straight up the incline. Maybe I was still in camp mode... where I wear sturdy hiking boots. Today I was in walking sandals and a full gauze multi colored skirt, and a deep purple top, and therefore not equipped for the incline. Luckily as I slid down, my skirt spread out around me making my fall very graceful, almost like some lopsided curtsy or Texas Dip (I think that's what they call them?). The skirt kept everything covered, but it took ten minutes in the bathroom to get all the grass of my slip (all the static between the skirt and slip). I imagine it looked pretty funny... I laughed anyway.

The assistant principal smiled indulgently and said, "Miss X, you and your class can walk around this way..."

Thanks, I hadn't thought of that...

Who can beat that for making an impression. And I was afraid I would never get a good reputation...

Laughter in the Aisles

The kids were working on projects today and desks got way out of alignment.

At the end of the period I told them to straighten up.

"Get these two aisles straight please, this one is anorexic and this one is pregnant..."

It took ten minutes before they could get anything done...

It was a good Monday.

Also, let me just say, a staffer friend of mine, sent me an essay, off the cuff, for me to edit. It was spectacular. I wish I could take credit for being that kids teacher. I'll have to settle for being his friend. I wish I could post it, but my rules... only post stuff I wrote... but, oh man!

Letter of Introduction

Dear 9^th Grade Language Arts,

My name is Sandy X, but around here, most people (as in students) call me Miss X.(That's right, Miss, as in Hit or Miss, as in I am neither married nor politically correct!) This is my ninth year teaching, officially, though unofficially I’ve been teaching, working with youth and well, bossy, for much longer. Aside from being a six foot, three inch, red headed stepchild, there are a lot of things that make me unique. My interests include, but are not limited to, traveling, cooking, camping, drama, writing, reading, music, singing, family, art, the ocean, the mountains, X-stitch and movies. And of course, those are just the current interests. There have been (and will be) much more.

Growing up as a Navy Brat (my dad served 22 years) of a single Dad (my parent split my freshman year of high school… talk about bad timing!) I moved a dozen times by the time I graduated high school in California (just outside of San Francisco) and then moved to Florida, where I started out as a Navy Nurse candidate in the NROTC program at University. After two years of working out with Marines and spinning rifles for fun (our Drill Team was third in the nation my freshman year) I gave it all up to pursue a career in education instead. I graduated with a Bachelor’s of English and then a Master’s of Education. After teaching seniors and drama (and a whole bunch of other stuff!) in Florida for three years I moved here where they actually have seasons! I’ve been here for over five years. The first two years, I lived by myself, but about three years ago I became the proud parent of a senior citizen. Nana is 83 and is the funniest person I’ve ever met. That’s her rocking chair at the front of my room. Also in the last several years I pursued a Certification as an Emergency Medical Technician Intermediate (EMT-I) at a terrific Technical School (1 year night school program). This was so I could enjoy the past four summers at a Scout Camp where I am the Medical Officer. I am responsible for about 1000 men/boys each week that are allowed to play with knives, build fires, swim in lakes, climb trees and chase snakes all without their mothers or wives anywhere in site. I work there for 8 weeks each summer and always have a blast.

Now my life pretty much revolves around work, Nana, Scouts and Drama. Sometimes I direct plays for the ninth grade here at school and often I write and/or direct productions at my church. This Fall I will be directing the children’s musical and this Spring I will be writing and directing my church’s mission youth play. Nana (And our two shelties, Piper and Roo) keeps the house pretty jumping. Also even during the year I am doing Scout weekend stuff and teaching First Aid and CPR for the American Heart Association for groups in the area. I also travel a lot. Last year I went to Central America and saw Mayan Ruins. Oh man, it was awesome. I’m thinking of going to Alaska this year or maybe Europe, specifically London. I really want to go back to London.

As to my future, I’m still trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up. Lately I find myself interested in two possibilities. I’d like to pursue my PhD and become a teacher of teachers, but I’d also really like to be a Paramedic, which is another year of school fulltime. Also, one of these days I am actually going to finish one of the books and/or screen plays I am working on and get them published/produced.

I’m going to get to all the things I’m after in life by never giving up, keeping focused on my goals and enjoying life as I live it. Sometimes that is easy, but sometimes it is hard. I find that the best way to get where you are going in keeping your mind on all the time. Bring it with you everywhere and always be using it. Besides, even when no one else will talk to you, your mind always will!

You guys can actually help me with some of my goals in life by continuing to challenge me to be the best teacher I can be. I learn more everyday teaching in class than you guys learn all year. Working with young people helps keep my mind young and active so that someday, who knows, I might be younger than you! Besides, someday you may be my doctor, lawyer, airline pilot, mechanic, plumber, carpenter, or architect and I need you to be on your best game.

The last thing is there are some things it would probably help you to know about me as a teacher. I have some “pet peeves” as they say. People who don’t pay attention, but expect me to fill in the gaps for them when they feel like it, disrespect, constant requests to use the restrooms and putting your head down on the desk is a sure fire way to find out how loud I can get. However, the flip side is that I love it when students have useful and interesting comments to add to class discussions, want to talk about books and poetry and let their enthusiasm for their own advancement spill over into the classroom such that everyone grows and learns.

There are many more stories that I want to tell you and this letter only scratches the surface of who I am, but I hope it helps give a you a little bit of an idea of where I am coming from.

Sincerely,

Your teacher, Miss X

I am not your friend.... and other thoughts of a teacher.

School has started, we've been at it for a full five days now. The kids this year are probably the best I've seen so far in the 9th grade. Part of that has to do with the fact that I have all advanced this year, but more of it has to do with this group of kids in general, just really good kids.

They have it rough though. I've been hard on them from the start. I told them on day 1 that I was not their friend. Sounds pretty harsh, I'm sure, though they took it well because I explained the statement. See here's the thing. I am not at school to be the student's friend. I am not there to make them feel better about themselves or make it all better for them. I am there to teach them, to give them skills and for them to gain the confidence that comes from know the information. As I told them, self esteem is all well and good, but if there is lots of it with no skills, abilities or knowledge, it still adds up to a pretty bad deal. We talked about trying. I've turned into Yoda on that one. Do or do not, there is not try.

The thing that is cool is that they are rising to this. I've been able to do activities with them so far that I never could have done with any other classes. They had a completely class led discussion yesterday for over an hour about the intentions of Richard Connel in "The Most Dangerous Game." No two classes argued the same set of issues, but they all argued. I learned so much from them. It really was fascinating.

Oh, and I'll have to post my letter of introduction to them... I was pretty impressed with it if I do say so myself.

There are some things that concern me about this group. I've already got one young lady that I think really may be in trouble. She clearly does not want to be a girl. She dresses, acts and talks like a boy. This is not being a tom boy, this is completely subverting all gender signs. Today even in the 100 degree heat she showed up in a long sleeved shirt and jeans. Then she told me she was having an anxiety attack. This is her second one since school started. Something is happening to this child, I can just feel it. Everyone else seems to think it is only possible, and no big deal. We'll see, I guess.

I have a new plaque up that states, "I have winged monkeys and I'm not afraid to use them!"

Nana seems to be getting a cold. Part of this may be because of disrupted sleep. Piper has decided he likes getting up at 2:30 AM and eating then. The first time he did it, Nana thought it was time to get up and scared the snot out of me, as I thought I had overslept. Then I figured it out. I think I am going to shoot the dog. I asked Nana who owned whom here. She smiled and said, "He owns me..." I think not!

Also I went back to training this week. Which is a good thing, but I really hate it. Except I missed it and it feels kind of good. There is something clearly wrong with me.

I'm considering doing a Master Cleanse. I've been reading a lot about it. But I haven't decided yet. The toilet issues sound a bit gnarly.

Oh, and by the way, having been put in a trailer this year (insert trailer trash joke here, all my other friends have) I find I like it. I can control my own thermostat and with the 100 degree weather outside, that is a rather nice thing. Also I am on my own island in the parking lot. John Dunn said no man is an island, but apparently this woman is!

What Teachers Say VS What They Mean

As a tribute to completely being done with the 2006-2007 School Year.

This Cracks Me Up!

What we say vs what we mean. Teachers, that is.

What the teacher says and (what the teacher means)

1. Your son has a remarkable ability in gathering needed information from his classmates.
(He was caught cheating on a test).

2. Karen is an endless fund of energy and viability.
(The hyperactive monster can't stay seated for five minutes).

3. Fantastic imagination! Unmatched in his capacity for blending fact with fiction.
(He's definitely one of the biggest liars I have ever met).

4. Margie exhibits a casual, relaxed attitude to school, indicating that high expectations don't intimidate her.
(The lazy thing hasn't done one assignment all term).

5. Her athletic ability is marvelous. Superior hand-eye coordination.
(The little creep stung me with a rubber band from 15 feet away).

6. Nick thrives on interaction with his peers.
(Your son needs to stop socializing and start working).

7. Your daughter's greatest asset is her demonstrative public discussions.
(Classroom lawyer! Why is it that every time I explain an assignment she createsa class argument).

8. John enjoys the thrill of engaging challenges with his peers.
(He's a bully).

9. An adventurous nature lover who rarely misses opportunities to explore new territory.
(Your daughter was caught skipping school at the fishing pond).

10. I am amazed at her tenacity in retaining her youthful personality.
(She's so immature that we've run out of diapers).

11. Unlike some students who hide their emotion, Charles is very expressive and open.
(He must have written the Whiner's Guide).

12. I firmly believe that her intellectual and emotional progress would be enhancedthrough a year's repetition of her learning environment.
(Regretfully, we believe that she is not ready for high school and must repeat the8th grade).

13. Her exuberant verbosity is awesome!
(A mouth that never stops yacking).

I’m sorry, what did you say?

As a teacher, this is a common phrase in my repertoire. I use it for several different occasions. It has different meanings depending on the different occasions.

When a child mumbles under their breath, it means “I dare you to say that out loud.”

When a student is mumbling to avoid talking in class it means, “Speak up!”

When a student has been corrected and answers with a “yeah,” “whatever,” or “OK!” it means,

“That is not the right response.” (The right response is, “Yes Ma’am” by the way… yes I am that mean, I enforce that kind of authoritarian behavior…)

When a student has Touret’s Syndrome, but purposefully uses the condition to swear out teachers (really, he has control over what he says, just not when he says it, but he likes to use as many obscene words as possible, including racist terms!), it means “Grunting, clapping, flapping and trilling are all outside your control, but when a certain B word is only used when I am in the room, and in my direction, you have control over what comes out of your mouth. Don’t call me that again.”

It is amazing how adept my students are at seeing each different translation. However it is sad when I see them recognize the message and blatantly disregard it.

When my father used to say those words to me I always knew what he meant too…

When the book ends…

Books are good friends of mine, but they are very finite friends. Again, today, that bothered me.

The book helps to define life for you, share ideas, entertain and maybe even enlighten a little on the human condition, but then it ends.

You can go back, learn more in depth, learn what you missed before, gain nuisance, all that good stuff, but there is nothing new, per say. The friendship has reached the depth and breadth of its existence and the story is over.

I’m looking at what promises to be a good book, sitting here patiently on my desk, waiting to be known and I swear, part of me is putting off starting because then I will have to finish.

Oh my!

Lately (and it may have to do with it being in the top 20 or 40 or whatever right now and therfore playing constantly on the radio!) all I seem to hear is this song in my head. Not my theme-song, yet. It’s too popular, but maybe this is part of my healing, self realization, psycho-babble path…

Not that I am afraid of the book I am reading, ending, but that I am still unwritten.

Yep-per. Full up on Crazy here!

Unwritten by Natasha Bedingfield

I am unwritten,
Can't read my mind
I'm undefined
I'm just beginning
The pen's in my hand
Ending unplanned

Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words
That you could not find
Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions

Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten ,yeah

Oh, oh

I break tradition
Sometimes my tries
Are outside the lines, oh yeah
We've been conditioned
To not make mistakes
But I can't live that way oh, oh

Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words
That you could not find
Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions

Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips x2 (twice)
drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten

Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words
That you could not find
Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions

Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins

Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
drench yourself in words unspoken
Live you life with arms wide open
Today is where you book begins
The rest is still unwritten
The rest is still unwritten
(YEAH! YEAH! YEAH!)

Silliness of a Friday

Today I am tired. Bone tired. The kind of tired you have to be if you stayed up with a baby during the night. I know that is the kind of tired I am because I stayed up with a six month old. Now, the baby wasn’t screaming, crying, inconsolable, she was simply awake and happy to be alive. I was not, but that didn’t seem to bother her much.

Nora is Robin’s youngest daughter. She is an important component of the play and so she went to dress rehearsal last night, spent the night and will go with me to performance tomorrow. She is a terrific baby, which is why I was willing to try this, but even in being so congenial, this was quite a trick. She woke up at Two AM and I was unable to get her settled until Four Thirty.

Today we are starting Greek Mythology and the Odyssey. After explaining to the class that Aphrodite came into being from the sea foam that was generated by Cronos throwing the parts of Uranus that was castrated into the ocean, I got a rather odd question. “So does Aphrodite have both ‘parts’ then? Oh! Is that where the word ‘hermaphrodite’ comes from?” That was fun to untangle, let me tell you!

Last week a child decided that they would rather do an entire project over again, one they had spent an entire week doing, rather than come back to my room and get their binder that they had left in class the day before. The other teachers think I should be proud of the fear I generate.

Two of my actors, who happen to be brother and sister, were rehearsing so loudly yesterday, before they came to dress rehearsal that their father actually thought they were arguing and was about to break up the fight.

The annually circulated rumor that I can do a one handed push up has begun the rounds in the 9th Grade Academy again. Where these kids get this I have no idea. If I deny it they don’t believe it. If I say I can they want to see. Again, one of the new coaches came by to ask me if it was true. I will neither confirm nor deny my ability to perform such skill! That is my answer and I’m sticking to it!

Next week Nana and I will be getting our meals delivered to us each day by a service that cooks meals from the Zone Diet. What does it say about me that I now have someone cleaning my house, I need a trainer to work out and am having my life catered. All this to try and lose weight. I feel slightly pathetic.

Nana may or may not have chipped a bone in her foot. She doesn’t care. She just wants to hold baby Nora and rock.

I just want to sleep.

Play tonight. No broken legs, hopefully not even a broken foot!

The Voices Of Poetry

It is that time of year again, when my class studies poetry and I find myself thinking, dreaming, and wondering about the human condition and what makes it so real. Now I recognize that this can be a dangerous line of thought without a beret and a drum and a lot of coffee, but it happens anyway.

My class learns about Walt Whitman, Emily Dickenson, Langston Hughes, Robert Frost, William Carlos Williams, Naomi Shallob Nye and Maya Angelou. We talk about imagery, Metaphor, Simile, Rhythm and the emotion that makes the abstract painting that is poetry. A lot of kids fall asleep. But here are some, each time who sit a bit straighter and their eyes grow wide and shining and I find myself pretending that I am talking only to them.

When I am lost in their gazes I believe that poetry is not dead and that there will be music forever. Those are the children I teach for. There are fewer of them, but they are there.

Today we talked about Langston Hughes and I let the students in on my strange fascination with voices. We all have qualities that we focus on in other people, attractants of sorts. It is not a sexual thing, though it is sensual and it part of how we perceive people. Some people focus on warm smiles, or expressive eyes or graceful hands. My thing is voices.

I could spend days in a room with just James Earl Jones voice, Sean Connery’s voice, Kathleen Turner’s voice, Glen Close’s voice. Sometimes it is a particular quality that I can name, deep tones, rich, resonant, and sometimes I don’t know why I like it, I just do. There are voices that have become comforting to me. Family members, good friends, and even a couple of students who had voices that really resonated with me (no pun intended). In that case the relationship, the personality, the other things influenced my perception of the voice, but either way, the memory of the voice becomes cherished to me.

There are things I am learning about myself now, because of therapy, and because of the introspection of entering my 30’s, applying for a PhD and watching Nana finish her life (she still has a decade to go, I am sure, but there is no doubt that her life is closing). One thing is the things I have heard that I did not want to, the ugly horrible things, another is the things, like I said, that I cherish, and then there is another funny category of the things I long to hear and what I imagine they sound like.

There was a time when I imagined what it would be like to hear “I love you” from someone special. For a long time, even after I knew I would never hear it, that way, from that person, I could still hear it. I remember the day I could no longer hear it anymore. Even though I had gotten over the loss of that relationship, I suffered a new anguish at the loss of the voice, the sound, the phrase. And understand I still had a friendship with that man, and saw him regularly, hearing his voice, even hearing him say those words to someone else, but I could no longer hear my imagination anymore… Not to say that it wasn’t a good thing and about time, I am just marking the moment of final loss.

When I listen to the poets, reading their poetry, I am always struck by their voices, the feeling, cadence and tones. For some reason I end up lost in my own memories of voices, past present and future and am struck by the absences as much as what is present.

If any of this made any sense, Happy Valentine’s Day. I hope for you all your voices are happy memories!

Demons, Flies, Plays and students

Hey,

Yes, I know I've been out. Things are crazy, I can't blog at work, I have minimal dial up at home and well I can't seem to catch a break except when I'm at Kinkos on other errands...

Apparently a squirrel died in the insulation of our ceiling of our apartment. Flies laid eggs in the carcass. Now there are huge black flies pouring into the ceiling space with a few escaping here and there into the house, but they all congregate (the ones in the ceiling) inside the fluorescent light panels where they make such a buzzing racket they sound like bees. You can't sit in the living room without your skin crawling and the landlord can't get an exterminator here until Monday evening!

Mother is at it again. While she had Nana she was up to a couple of her tricks. Nana lost no money, really, but trust was abused. Further Mother managed to undermine Nana's confidence, slip into destructive behavior patterns with me and this afternoon... She called to tell me that her therapist pointed out to her how aberrant some of her parental behaviors were with me. OK. Good. Glad she learned, see that, etc. Then she went on to point out that the therapist also thinks I have the behaviors too... I learned them from mother. I've never met mother's therapist by the by, so how she can diagnose me from 700 miles away, who knows... but saying that I'm a little angry, frustrated, mortified, disgusted would not cover it.

We are starting our mission play for the church. This year I am working from scratch, writing, directing, producing. This is hard! Tonight are the final auditions with rehearsals starting Sunday...

My classes this semester are better. The kids are getting the message, but a few are still... to use my mother's new favorite word... aberrant. We'll see how it goes.

Hope everyone is well. Oddly enough, I am.