I want to hear these cold wet daffodils
as poetry in my storm tossed mind
I want to hear the world described
from out of the fog rolling through the trees down into the valley
In words that float or sing to which
I feel a dance coming on
I want to swim the gray air hovering over the garden
swim through it to the hidden
sun
Then afterwards I will know once more
what colors to paint the easter eggs
The dance of spring revealing itself again and again.
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Friday, March 18, 2011
What are you Sinking About?
It is Friday evening, Viernes, and the start to a much deserved spring break for the teachers who live in the greater Portland area. Teachers, go out and a have a few really good beers, laugh a lot, go off to a warm place... I am your fan. Let this be my fan letter!
Today I was given the opportunity to work a full day in a local Elementary School, so I feel an even greater kinship with the teachers in our midst. I must say it now, and with gravity, the teachers, classroom aides, staff in every field - they all should have an instant pass to heaven, they are all angels, they are the best humans, giving every day in ways those of us not at the 'front lines' of education could never imagine.
Picture this:
A ten year old boy, in diapers, with limited reasoning capacity, laying on a bathroom floor...throwing a tantrum for an hour ....
while the little girl, 8 years old, who cannot speak, has to be fed intraveniously, cannot walk or speak.. she hears the shrieks of the boy and begins to thrust her legs spastically and bang her head against her wheelchair supports... while the 5 year old who cannot walk on his own, decides to spit at his teachers while they work closely with him.. while the staff calmly assesses the situation and talks kindly to the child, bringing him slowly back to reality.
Miraculously the end of the day comes, when we walk the children out to the buses, and a 7 year old who has limited communications ability suddenly throws up in the center of the hallway as the whole school passes by departing at the end of the day..... her aid saying "I don't have any gloves... ' and me, the newbie running to the office to find the health room and some gloves.
Not till I walk out the door headed for my car do I wonder if I have contracted some kind of stomach flu from the little sick girl, with whom I worked in close proximity all day. I have family who cannot afford to get sick right now, so I must quaranteen myself, on this Friday night.
Again I wonder why those who work with children are put at the lower ends of the pay scale. Such hard work, requiring far more that just the physical motions of work deserves huge rewards in a society based on justice.
All this is going on while a nuclear reactor in our climate zone is melting down. This blog is not meant to be negative, only realistic. There is so much it seems we cannot talk about anymore, in this feel good, Pollyanna land. Where are we headed? I have just joined the 'Coffee Party'.... for real. Just when I think the cause is lost, I read about cool people with fabulous imaginations doing something proactive and positive. Viva la vida!
Someday when I am not fresh out of the epitome of a wierd day I will edit this essay, but if you see it now you get the full effect of where I am. ( The moon in the gloaming of this evening, one day away from full, but still shining white and magical in the night sky may or may not have something to do with this day... )
I hope we all have springs with flowers, some sun, new ideas, healing and love. If you would rather have passion than love, then her it is.... I hope we all have passion, I wish it for the world.
Today I was given the opportunity to work a full day in a local Elementary School, so I feel an even greater kinship with the teachers in our midst. I must say it now, and with gravity, the teachers, classroom aides, staff in every field - they all should have an instant pass to heaven, they are all angels, they are the best humans, giving every day in ways those of us not at the 'front lines' of education could never imagine.
Picture this:
A ten year old boy, in diapers, with limited reasoning capacity, laying on a bathroom floor...throwing a tantrum for an hour ....
while the little girl, 8 years old, who cannot speak, has to be fed intraveniously, cannot walk or speak.. she hears the shrieks of the boy and begins to thrust her legs spastically and bang her head against her wheelchair supports... while the 5 year old who cannot walk on his own, decides to spit at his teachers while they work closely with him.. while the staff calmly assesses the situation and talks kindly to the child, bringing him slowly back to reality.
Miraculously the end of the day comes, when we walk the children out to the buses, and a 7 year old who has limited communications ability suddenly throws up in the center of the hallway as the whole school passes by departing at the end of the day..... her aid saying "I don't have any gloves... ' and me, the newbie running to the office to find the health room and some gloves.
Not till I walk out the door headed for my car do I wonder if I have contracted some kind of stomach flu from the little sick girl, with whom I worked in close proximity all day. I have family who cannot afford to get sick right now, so I must quaranteen myself, on this Friday night.
Again I wonder why those who work with children are put at the lower ends of the pay scale. Such hard work, requiring far more that just the physical motions of work deserves huge rewards in a society based on justice.
All this is going on while a nuclear reactor in our climate zone is melting down. This blog is not meant to be negative, only realistic. There is so much it seems we cannot talk about anymore, in this feel good, Pollyanna land. Where are we headed? I have just joined the 'Coffee Party'.... for real. Just when I think the cause is lost, I read about cool people with fabulous imaginations doing something proactive and positive. Viva la vida!
Someday when I am not fresh out of the epitome of a wierd day I will edit this essay, but if you see it now you get the full effect of where I am. ( The moon in the gloaming of this evening, one day away from full, but still shining white and magical in the night sky may or may not have something to do with this day... )
I hope we all have springs with flowers, some sun, new ideas, healing and love. If you would rather have passion than love, then her it is.... I hope we all have passion, I wish it for the world.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Kindergarten
Last night, when the job listing showed up in gray, the jackpot color, not the usual red "no jobs at this time", I read the words "Kindergarten" and immediately thought of 1990, the year my youngest son was a kindergartner, and I was his teacher's regular sub. I knew all the kid's names, and the routine of the class. I knew about Eli, the little guy with FES, and I had usually talked with Pat, the gregarious lovely teacher, at length in advance. I knew the lesson, the interval for recess, how the routine on the rug went. (Children adore routine). I welcomed the chance to spend the day with my own son. It was a win/win, in our little rural school where everyone knew everyone, and the principal met the kids as they disembarked from the bus with a hearty welcome and a joke.
Teaching a pack of little ones who want anything but sitting still can be sort of like doing aerobics. I know this, and I know that unfamiliarity makes it much harder, but still, I was excited to be in kindergarten again!
So, 22 years later I walked into a Kindergarten room, unrehearsed and right out of my new 55 year old life. They whupped me into shape right away. Little kids are so wonderfully transparent. Just when I thought I was a goner, I would put my hand on the shoulder of the kid who could not sit still, and felt him calm. I whispered in ears often, and this they listened to. We sang some songs, lullabies our parents sang to us. It was precious to hear the high child singing recount the song they loved best. In a few years it will be impossible to get them to sing a song alone, in front of their peers. How lucky I felt today, letting them perform, gently reinforcing to the class how "we listen with respect".
At the end of my day with them, I wanted a small amount of closure, so I said, "I teach yoga, and we have a way of saying goodbye, namaste,.. ) and I bowed to them. Every child's eyes were on me, they were still and silent for the first time in 4 hours. It was cosmic. It was the perfect way to end my morning with them.
I didn't practice yoga in 1990. I wish I had, it might have calmed me in my racing, anxious, fragmented young widowhood. It might have.
To be grateful now for my practice is what I have. To see little kids, and to always see my own kids within them.. To see myself mirrored in their guilless responses, and the future of the world in their eyes.
Teaching a pack of little ones who want anything but sitting still can be sort of like doing aerobics. I know this, and I know that unfamiliarity makes it much harder, but still, I was excited to be in kindergarten again!
So, 22 years later I walked into a Kindergarten room, unrehearsed and right out of my new 55 year old life. They whupped me into shape right away. Little kids are so wonderfully transparent. Just when I thought I was a goner, I would put my hand on the shoulder of the kid who could not sit still, and felt him calm. I whispered in ears often, and this they listened to. We sang some songs, lullabies our parents sang to us. It was precious to hear the high child singing recount the song they loved best. In a few years it will be impossible to get them to sing a song alone, in front of their peers. How lucky I felt today, letting them perform, gently reinforcing to the class how "we listen with respect".
At the end of my day with them, I wanted a small amount of closure, so I said, "I teach yoga, and we have a way of saying goodbye, namaste,.. ) and I bowed to them. Every child's eyes were on me, they were still and silent for the first time in 4 hours. It was cosmic. It was the perfect way to end my morning with them.
I didn't practice yoga in 1990. I wish I had, it might have calmed me in my racing, anxious, fragmented young widowhood. It might have.
To be grateful now for my practice is what I have. To see little kids, and to always see my own kids within them.. To see myself mirrored in their guilless responses, and the future of the world in their eyes.
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