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Showing posts from February, 2016

A Woman's Work- #PoetryFriday

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Thank you Elizabeth Steinglass for hosting Poetry Friday this week!

I'm still rather new to this community, although there are so many familiar friends here! For now, I'm just sharing poems that I want to keep closer...poems that I've loved, but live in the middle of a book, somewhere on my shelf, out of sight and out of mind. My hope is by participating here on Fridays, I will have a collection of poetry at my fingertips, as well as learn new poems from all of you!

Today's poem is a favorite of mine because I am the WORST at "woman's work." 

A Woman's Work

By Dorothy Nimmo

Will you forgive me that I did not run
to welcome you as you came in the door?
Forgive I did not sew your buttons on
and left a mess strewn on the kitchen floor?
A woman's work is never done
and there is more.

The things I did I should have left undone
the things I lost that I could not restore;
Will you forgive I wasn't any fun?
Will you forgive I couldn't give you more?
A woman'…

An Interactive Slice #SOL16

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This afternoon, I am leading a workshop on "Diving into Blogging" in my district! 11 teachers have signed up to learn about blogging as an educator and ways to get your students started with blogging. You can see my presentation here. I'm planning on giving the teachers time to hop on the computer and start their own blog after several activities and discussions about how to get started. 
They also need the WHY for blogging too. I sent out a Google form last week to see what their prior blogging experience has been and what they are hoping to get out of today's workshop. Some indicated they want to learn WHY they should blog as a teacher and what the educational value is to them and their students. 
I found a few of my posts that speak to my WHY- the reasons blogging has been transformational for me as a person and a professional and included that in my presentation. But here's where today's Interactive Slice comes in! It would mean so much to me if you could, …

Poetry Friday: The Rider

What a wonderful community! Thank you for welcoming me last week. I returned!
Today I am sharing Naomi Shihab Nye's poem, "The Rider." 
The Rider
Naomi Shihab Nye

A boy told me  if he roller-skated fast enough his loneliness couldn't catch up to him,
the best reason I ever heard for trying to be a champion.
What I wonder tonight pedaling down King William Street is if it translates to bicycles
A victory! To leave your loneliness panting behind you on some street corner while you float free into a cloud of azaleas, pink petals that have never felt loneliness, no matter how slowly they fell.

A Bedtime Poem for Alex #SOL16

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For Alex

Tonight, in your glow-in-the-dark rocket ship pajamas,
we read Where is the Green Sheep?
I showed you my favorite sheep,
the bed sheep, who reads a book under the covers.
You asked me to guess your favorite sheep
And laughingly, I answered "the shooting sheep" 
except there's no sheep with a gun in the book
and it isn't really funny.

Tonight, you told your aunts and uncles
you want to be in the army when you grow up
so you can kill people.
Bad guys. 
And I suggested you be a meteorologist
because you have that funny personality
and like to predict the weather.
And no one gets killed over a 5 day forecast.

Your play is full of battles and wars
And bad guys you shoot to kill. 
I don't understand this type of play.
I know tea parties and teddy bears and 
dressing Barble for the big dance.
I know playing school with stuffed animals.
I want to understand 
but I want you to understand, too.

I want you to understand that bad guys
weren't always bad guys 
They were babies once, fresh …

Poetry Friday: For a Five-Year-Old

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I always enjoy reading the Poetry Friday posts, but have never taken part! I saw Kimberley Moran was hosting this week and thought I would give it a go! You can read Kim's post and link your Poetry Friday post here.

Last spring, my son Alex, four at the time, was squishing ants while with a group of kids. I talked to him about how that was unkind and how the ants have families. I appealed to his conscience.  He took in my words and worked on convincing the other children, passionately defending the rights of the ants.  A few weeks later, at the Memorial Day Parade, Alex had the misfortune of sitting on an ant hive on the curb. Ants in his pants! He was not too fond of them after that!

I was reminded of that story while reading the poem "For a Five Year-Old" by Fleur Adcock. Alex is five now and this poem really resonated for me. It made me think of the role parents play in helping their children to become people of character, and the faith our children so innocently offer …

We're All Writers Here #SOL16

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Found Poem from 2/8 #twtblog Twitter chat  on "Discovering the Writer's Life"

We're All Writers Here
We're all writers here.  Real life is a treasure chest  But I know the self-doubt
that leaves a writer  staring at empty pages.

Be the chief collector.  Be constantly the lead collector of ideas
 from our own and our shared lives. We can’t ask students to do 
what we aren’t willing to LIVE.
Notice, notice, notice. 
You’re writing even when you’re not writing Live your life with "wide awake eyes"  Ideas are everywhere!
Our lives that are write-worthy
Be blown away by stories you have to tell You have to feel it inside--
the story (or poem) you want to tell.
Your writing can serve a bigger cause
Ignore the voice that says: 
"This has been said before." 
You have to own it and say:
 "Well, I've never written about it.."
We're all writers here. 



"Those Were the Days" #SOL16

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I read over the weekend that Jean Stapleton, the actress who played Edith Bunker, passed away. Reading about that reminded me of my "All in the Family" story. 

When I was in college, I had a summer job working with the most amazing little boy. I'll call him C.  C was brilliant, adorable, fun-loving and a pleasure to be with.  He had spinal muscular atrophy, which made a motorized wheelchair his mode of transportation, and limited some of the physical activities he could do independently or at all. My job was to be his private assistant while he went to summer camp and help him with some of his personal needs while also looking out for his health needs. He could not be outside when it was extremely humid or very hot and we would spend time in the nurse's office, playing card games and with toys he brought with him.  It was a fantastic, rewarding job.

But there was one thing I dreaded. C had some quirks and one of them was an amazing memory. He could name every Billy Joe…