I'm no poet

I am not a poet. I don’t think I’ve ever even claimed to be one, but I love to dabble in the art, especially haiku. I do like to read poetry though and the more bleak and depressing, the better. Yet, in my spring of perpetual idealism, I often find myself longing for a hopeful note, an ending that is not quite so bleak…not quite so soul-sucking sad.

While modern poets find outlet on the net, I tend to look at classic poetry found in hefty volumes and anthologies. Books where Lewis Carroll shares space with John Donne, Elizabeth Barrett Browning mingles with Walt Whitman. Crisp white paper, like fresh albino lettuce crinkles and flutters while I ponder the heavy words of literary giants.

In poetry it is often easier to find an expression of what you are feeling than try to come up with your own words. In poetry the voice of the poet speaks not just to the reader but for the reader, offering solace in expression and joy in thought. Overwhelmed with love? Turn to Shakespeare. Overcome with lust? Robert Herrick readily springs to mind. Concerned with mortality? Christina Rossetti tells it like it is. Question of faith? George Herbert can help you there.

With that in mind I present two of my favorite poems.

The first, “How Did You Die?” by Edmund Vance Cooke is less about death than one might imagine. When ever I feel backed in a corner, trapped by a decision, or faced with major setback, I think of this poem and remember that it isn’t what life throws at you; it is how you handle it that matters.

I first encountered the second poem, “There Will Come Soft Rains” by Sara Teasdale, in a short story of the same name by Ray Bradbury in my 10th grade English class. The poem ought to remind us that we are fallible and our actions will have consequences for us, but the Earth, our only home, will continue far longer than we care to imagine. It is not necessarily a “hopeful” poem, but it leaves in me the sense that there is a possibility for renewal, of starting the cycle all over again.

Enjoy.

How Did You Die?

Did you tackle that trouble that came your way

With a resolute heart and cheerful?

Or hide your face from the light of day

With a craven soul and fearful?

Oh, a trouble's a ton, or a trouble's an ounce,

Or a trouble is what you make it,

And it isn't the fact that you're hurt that counts,

But only how did you take it?

You are beaten to earth? Well, well, what's that?

Come up with a smiling face.

It's nothing against you to fall down flat,

But to lie there -- that's disgrace.

The harder you're thrown, why the higher you bounce;

Be proud of your blackened eye!

It isn't the fact that you're licked that counts,

It's how did you fight -- and why?

And though you be done to the death, what then?

If you battled the best you could,

If you played your part in the world of men,

Why, the Critic will call it good.

Death comes with a crawl, or comes with a pounce,

And whether he's slow or spry,

It isn't the fact that you're dead that counts,

But only how did you die?


There Will Come Soft Rains

There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground,

And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;

And frogs in the pool singing at night,

And wild plum trees in tremulous white;

Robins will wear their feathery fire,

Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;

And not one will know of the war,

not one Will care at last when it is done.

Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree,

If mankind perished utterly;

And Spring herself when she woke at dawn

Would scarcely know that we were gone.

Boldly Going

I am not a Trekkie. I’m really not. I don’t go to conventions, I have never dressed up like a character and I don’t know the first thing about Klingon grammar theory. I’ve never even seen the complete original series, just random episodes here and there. Same thing with Next Generation, Deep Space Nine and well, I try to pretend that Enterprise doesn’t exist. It is easy to identify with the shows because as with all good (and, well, bad) sci-fi, it isn’t just about the future and technology, it is about teaching us about the human condition, helping us understand ourselves and our world, and most importantly it is about the effects of modern society and where we might “go” if as a people we make the incorrect choice.

Now I will admit that though I have not watched all episodes of Next Generation, it is by far my favorite, simply because 1) Patrick Stewart and 2) Brent Spinner. Picard is all that a Captain should be: bold, decisive, unafraid of making the hard choice. He is rigid in his expectations of his crew but he is also understanding and compassionate. He is defined by his adherence to principles-not just Star Fleet’s, but his own inner moral code of right and wrong. He does what is right because it is right, not because some rulebook told him to. As for Patrick Stewart himself, never have I been enthralled with an actor like I am with him. Maybe it is the accent, or his classical Shakespearean training, or maybe his bald head, but whatever the reason, I just find him pleasant to look at and watch.

Now, Brent Spinner, as far as the actor goes, I’m not really interested. But as Data, his character, I am fascinated. The concept of Data a machine trying to be hum is both endearing and frightening. Seven-of-Nine does the same on Voyager, but Spinner is more believable. His quest is more “human,” more touching, more vulnerable, than a Borg removed from the Collective, because he has more to overcome. He is not built to handle the human condition so when he does finally grasp a concept, like humor, it is all the more poignant and funny; whereas for Seven-of-Nine, her actions and development are more a remembrance. The audience knows she will “find” her humanity because she is human. With Data, although ultimately the audience knows that he will succeed, we have our doubts. However, Data firmly commits to being human in Star Trek Nemesis when he sacrifices himself for Picard.

I do love Voyager, though, don’t get me wrong, I NetFlixed every season about two years ago and made a marathon of each disk. The Doctor really made the show. He, too, searched for humanity, but his quest was more for freedom.

The movies fall into the same categories. I love the Next Generation movies. I wish they would make a Voyager movie. I’ve not watched all of the original movies. Where is this leading up to? The new Star Trek movie.

HOLY MOLY! WOW! Now to clarify, I’m not putting this in the same category as The Dark Night, but WHOA!! This movie was awesome!! The characters were believable. Each of the actors put their own stamp on their character and made them their own. Now, I’m not good at writing movie reviews. I never have been. But in brief I wanted to give some impressions.

Zachary Quinto, amazingly creepy as Syler in Heroes, steels the show as Spock. He was Spock. There was no doubt. In doing some research on the movie, I learned that Leonard Nimoy had casting approval over the Spock character. Quinto made Spock believable, attainable, and understandable. The cold exterior was softened a bit by the added twist of Spock and Uhura’s relationship.

Chris Pine is an equally believable Kirk. I wasn’t sure what to expect at first as I had only ever seen Pine in The Princess Diaries 2: The Royal Engagement. And while he was pleasant to look at, the movie itself was unimpressive. But as Kirk, Pine blew me away. Angsty, drama-ridden and the ultimate bad boy, the movie releases Kirk from his stereotypical captain with a girl in every port, and paints him in a new coat. He is dark, moody, drifting man with a nonchalant attitude toward life. It isn’t until he is approached by a Star Fleet commander who knew his father that he makes a decision to be something.

Overall, this movie was great; better than expected and one that I would gladly go back to see in the theater (and that hasn’t happened since The Dark Night). I was nervous about seeing Star Trek, as many true Trekkies were, not that I’m a Trekkie. What I loved best of this movie? The alternate timeline it has now created whereby the development of other movies and shows may occur without fear of ruining the continuity of the canon series. Time-Space continuum being what it is I wonder if this means we can expect a new Next Generation in the future.

The Snags of Reality

The problem with reality? It keeps butting into my day. I have about four or five posts in the works, but can I ever finish one? Nope! Silly things like work...cooking dinner...sleep keep interrupting my day. If only I could win Powerball, I'd spend hours upon hours followed immediately thereafter by days upon days writing and actually finish something. What I have found though is that I am finally getting back into a routine...it only took nearly 10 months.

In other news, Ashleigh has completed her last project for the 6th grade. Behold the awesomeness that is Little Miss Hula Spud!!

Why was she assigned a project to dress up a potato? I'm not sure I want to know, but she had a blast doing it. I helped by hinting at aesthetics and suggesting the plastic fish bowl that was gathering dust in the attic over an old shoebox. Other than that, it is all Ashleigh. Although you can't see it, the bottom is covered in sand and seashells.

Cyra completed her first year as a Daisy Girl Scout and her troop celebrated by going to Build-A-Bear with their cookie money. Again, as with Ashleigh, I had no input with her choice. So I present for inspection Major Bear:

Major Bear is so camoflauged, I doubt that even he would notice himself!! From his uniform to his boxers to his fur, this bear get a +100 to his hide check!

And that is that...for now at least.

Cheers!

Memories like Monopoly

I wanted to write something about my grandmother. But I’m not sure how to. I’m sure giving enough time I could write something a bit more meaningful, something that captures my memories better.

I know not one single bad person. Everyone has their good and bad days. My father’s mother was a difficult woman: demanding, critical and oft times downright spiteful. Despite that, I will not remember her like that. There is no point to it. It serves no goal or agenda. Instead, I will remember her through a child’s eyes. Childhood memories are faulty and scattered but the images are pure.

Memories like Monopoly

Monopoly, on an old card table in the living room
Owls, tiny collectables, high on a shelf
Scat, playing for pennies round the kitchen table
Skirts, always, I never saw her in anything but
Gardening, fiercely protective of her blueberry bushes

Soap Operas, like clockwork
Bowling on TV, I will never understand
Cucumber Spears, with practically every meal, crisp and fresh
Black Coffee, waking up each morning, Sanka on the counter, black coffee in the mug
Needlework, crochet and cross stitch, hands always busy

Testing the Teacher

The Sixth Crazy!

I’m a pretty easy-going teacher. For all of my complaints, my kids are not criminals and in most cases, not delinquents. I could be in a worse school. And my advanced kids are typically good kids, albeit sassy smart-asses, but good. On Thursday, I had my 5th period advanced class working on an article about Elizabethan England, part of their mini-unit on Shakespeare. Now, Shakespeare is not really in the curriculum for 8th grade, but it is in 9th. My feeling is that if they get a little background knowledge on Shakespeare, they will be better prepared for the full Shakespeare unit in 9th grade.

So, they were reading this article when one of the kids, Z, asks why I am making them read. I say "well, I told you I’m preparing you for next year. And besides, you might see this on my end of quarter final." Well, that prompted a bunch of the kids into this, “You wouldn’t test us” mode. Now, I don’t give many test. Most of my curriculum is about writing so their big grades are writing projects, but an occasional test is not unheard of. Anyway, this conversation quickly degraded into a group of four boys, betting that I wouldn’t give them a test the next day. I said ok, you want a test, you got it. Then they proceeded to up the ante by stating that I wouldn't give them 50 questions. This prompted another to state that 50 would be too easy. In no time they talked themselves into a 150 question test with an essay.

Sound unfair? It was, but I said, okay, you want a test, you got it. They didn’t believe that I would do it, so now I had something to prove. First, don’t mess with me. Second, I keep my word. I was up until about 1 am writing this wicked fill in the blank/short answer test. Unfortunately I did not have enough material to get to 150 questions. I got to 110.

I went in yesterday, made copies and awaited 5th period. They all filed into class. They had heard rumors from their other teachers that I did indeed have a test for them. The first few in asked if I really did have a test. I held up the stack.

“Testing mode,” I told them and obediently they turned their desks from groups to rows and sat down. They took out pens and pencils. They waited.

“Ok guys, here’s the deal: I do not have a 150 question test for you.” My ringleaders smirked. I waited a second. “I was only able to come up with a 110 questions.” Mouths dropped. “I didn’t want to end up just repeating questions, and I was up pretty late so, well, there you go.” I continued the instructions, including the instructions for the essay question.

Eyes got wide. Smirks fell. Hands tentatively went into the air. I called on A.

“What if we don’t finish?”

“Well, I guess that would be a problem for you, huh?” I smiled. “Do the best you can. You may start as soon as you get the test.” I handed out the test and as the kids flipped though the seven pages, they kept glancing at me as if waiting for me to get to the punch line.

When I said nothing more, they heaved a collective sigh and began working. All except Z. When he got his test, he clearly, boldly, loudly (how many more adverbs can I add here?) said, “I’m not doing this,” put his name on it and turned it over and sat there glaring at me as if he were a matador staring down a bull. But a Taurus has nothing on a Leo in terms of stubborness.

Ok, I thought, you want to play hardball…we’ll play. I set the timer for twenty minutes. Meanwhile, all the other students were working as quickly as they could to get as many finished as they could. Twenty minutes went by the only way it could during a test, crawling like a lame animal for shelter for the teacher, and flying by like an supersonic jet for the students.

When the timer went off a number of the kids looked at me horrified. I said, “Ok, for those of you who had the foresight to bring your notebook with you, as you are supposed to do each day, you may take it out and use your notes to complete the test.” Z glared even more. Guess who didn’t have his notebook?

The test continued. Z glared. It was a matter of principle now. Who would break first? Who would prove the point?

Twenty more minutes went by. I called time and collected the tests. After I had all the tests I addressed the kids.

“Now, how many of you think it was unfair for me to test you all when this whole thing was started by Z, D, D, and T?” All hands went into the air including the four troublemakers! I said, “You’re right. It really wasn’t fair; however, I made my point, right?” Heads nodded. “Good. Now, for those of you who attempted this test, even though it was unfair, for each correct answer you will receive extra credit on your end of quarter exam.” Smiles, except for one. “Now, I’m going to grade these, record your points and give them back for you to correct and use for a study guide for the end of quarter final. And if you turn this back in, corrected, on the day of the final you will receive additional points.”

The bell rang and students looked at me to dismiss them. I let them go, reminding them about the second part to their test to be completed at home and turned in on Monday: a brief summary of one of Shakespeare’s plays.

Later on, while I was outside with my 3rd period class doing art fest stuff, Z came up to me and apologized for "being a jerk." His words, not mine.

Exeunt stage left, pursued by homework.

a CrAzY wEeK

To say things at work are crazy would be far beyond an understatement. While the end of the year is always a bit stressful, more so than the beginning of the year, for some reason there is always one week in May that is psycho crazy!

First – This week was the 4th Annual Art Festival. Our art teacher, Mrs. C, works tirelessly all year round to raise money, plan and execute this week. She invites all sorts of artists, musicians, story tellers, and bands to come to our school and spend time talking about, demonstrating, and performing for our students. It is an awesome activity for the kids…if they would appreciate it. Unfortunately, the type of students I have…middle schoolers…are disrespectful, rude, obnoxious and downright nasty. And really this has nothing to do with race, gender or culture. It is all about the age! Middle schoolers are jerks. And truly as much as I love the art fest, I think it would serve better to do it for an elementary school. Little kids might not be able to sit still, but from what I’ve seen they show a lot more respect at assemblies than older kids.

So during this week, the teachers sign their classes up to go see and do different activities. The last two years it has been very easy to make sure that each class got to go to at least one thing because we were on teams and no one class or group of students went to the same thing over and over. My team last year had worked out a schedule to a perfect harmonious flow. This year because administration did away with the team concept, I had many classes I brought to events that whined they’d already been to that particular event three times already. And therefore, they took it upon themselves to act like the little jerks they are. And amazingly, it was my advance kids who were the worst! One of my worst classes, so grateful to not have to work, behaved so well I gave them extra credit!

So that was going one every day last week.

Second – Scott’s car is on its last wheel. So Scott and I have been talking about trying to figure out a way to acquire a new car. Carjacking and Grand Theft Auto aside, we don’t have much in way ability. We just got our tax refund which I was planning on using for my trip to New York, but we could use it for a down payment. Scott thinks the car will last for the summer, but the fact that the underneath is trying to escape containment and he has to disconnect the battery when he parks, makes it hard to justify keeping this old red death trap.

Ok…so that isn’t really crazy as much as frustrating.

Third – Scott has long claimed there is some sort of mystical energy transfer between the two of us. When he is exhausted, I am wide awake; the few times that I am tired and in bed before 9 or 10, he is wide awake and unable to sleep. This week, that has happened two times. So twice this week, I have been in bed before 9 – 10 (when I normally am writing) and thus have not done much writing this week. So my schedule has been thrown for a serious loop this week. Weird!!

Fourth – Administration!! Once again, our principal has seen fit to redo the class assignments and arrangements for next year. Now I am not going to complain about this because I got back on the team I was on originally and that’s where I wanted to be. I will however, once again state that the man is trying to put his mark on the school and in my opinion the reason he split us up in the first place was because we are a really strong team and he is trying to conquer and divide. So during the week, he has been coming to us, talking about placement and blah blah blah while subtly still insinuating that it was the teacher’s fault FCAT scores weren’t as good as they should have been.

Meanwhile, in the 8th grade hall we’ve been holding these contests for the students. Every 15 days, whichever students have remained referral free get a reward. The first one was a field-day type event that was poorly planned and executed because the admin didn’t really communicate with us what she wanted u s to do. Ok. It happens. The kids had fun anyway. The second one was this week. During the art fest when the kids were already crazy. Once again, poorly planned. We weren’t told what was going on until Wednesday. We didn’t get to give any input. Ok. She’s the admin. Tell us what you need us to do. Nothing.

The plan was to watch a movie in the cafeteria. Now, it was a Bolt, which is Disney, but rated PG so the kids needed a permission slip. Those didn’t get handed out until Thursday last period, in the breezeway by the admin. So once again the teachers didn’t know who was allowed to go. Well, on Friday morning, kids who hadn’t gotten a permission slip asked to call home for verbal permission. I spent all morning on the phone with parents getting permission. When I went to lunch, I was told that I should have turned in that list by noon. And that she had clearly given me those instructions. Uh, nope, but ok, I’ve got a list even though it is one, and I turned it in.

Then, later on coming out of the hall for planning, I bore the brunt of the admin’s anger as she scolded that “all [she] wants is the teachers to cooperate. Is that really too much to ask? [She] clearly gave instructions to all teachers to turn in verbal permission by noon and now [she] had all these kids who claimed that had verbal permission running around trying to get into the movie” and on and on. Now, I am a team player. They ask me to do something, I do it, I might complain later about it, but I do it, no questions asked. So for the admin to claim that I refused to do what she asked in and of itself aggravating and insulting. But for the admin to then claim that I was giving instructions that I was not is ridiculous. In fact, another teacher had handed permission slips (verbal and non) directly to the admin who later sent in a student for the information that was already in hand!!

So that was super fun!!

Fifth - Never in all my great many years of teaching (four, for those who don't know) has a student ever cursed at me or called me a name to my face. I'm sure I get called all manner of things outside of class. This week, I had a group of students not return with me to class after an art fest activity. When they showed up about 5-8 minutes after everyone else, I stood at the door to write their names down to mark as tardy/skipping. One of them, a nice, quiet, sweet straight A student tried to explain why she was late. I calmly said that I didn't want an excuse, and to please go in and sit down. As she walk in she very loudly call me a "bitch" and sat down. I was speechless. Agast. Stunned. I said "What did you just say?" The class was silent all staring at me and back at her. She just glared at me over her shoulder. "Out," I said pointing at the door. I walked her across the hall to another teacher and said I did not want her back. I wrote her up and sent it up to the office. Later on I found out her punishment: one day suspension and her mom told her that she would not be going on the end of the year trip. Ouch! I felt bad about that, but I hope the message was driven home. It is one thing to grumble under your breath and think things, but quiet another to let stuff out without thinking about consequences.

The sixth and last crazy, deserves its own post. Tune in for part two in about 30 seconds.

Quiet Monday

Today was just a quiet day. The bug that caught Ashleigh last week finally settled in on Cyra and we stayed home today. So what did I do?

1. cuddled
2. played Neverwinter Nights (a new addiction that I totally blame on Scott)
3. played Sims
4. played Neverwinter Nights because there isn't any blood and gore in Sims
5. laundry
6. smiled when after telling Cyra to take a nap and she insisted she wasn't tired she passed out for most of the afternoon
7. played Neverwinter Nights
8. cleaned the kitchen
9. played Neverwinter Nights
10. cooked an awesome dinner - cheddar ranch burgers with ceaser salad and mac and cheese
11. played Neverwinter Nights
12. cuddled
13. more laundry
14. played Neverwinter Nights
15. more cleaning of the kitchen
16. blogged
17. cuddled

So, a highly productive day in my honest opinion! And a very nice end to a now five-day weekend! I'm back to work tomorrow before my boss freaks out on me and little Cyra, if she is still yicky (which I don't doubt she will be) will hand out with Mom.