The Last Day of May

In early 1998, I had the opportunity to conduct a leadership workshop to teach public speaking to a small group of 8th graders at Southeast Middle School is Portage County, Ohio.  I got the connection through my Toastmasters club -- the principal was a member.

I already knew that I wanted to go to school to become a teacher, but that dream seemed very far away. Through the leadership work, I met a 7th grade teacher named Judy Wilfong.  Together, she and I wrote a grant for me to bring story writing and storytelling to her students.  We received the grant and throughout the month of May that year, in addition to the leadership group, I taught a couple of days a week in Judy's class. This was the same month my dad was diagnosed with cancer.

The storytelling workshop was completed by the last week of May, with the students telling their stories to elementary school students.  It was a fabulous educational experience for us all.  I told the kids I would come back the following Monday -- June 1st -- with my djembe drum, and we could drum and tell stories.  And on that evening, the 8th grade graduation was scheduled, and I was to introduce the speakers who were in the leadership group.  I was flying high with success and the fulfillment of working with young people.

That Sunday night, May 31st, my father died.  At first I didn't think I would make it to the June 1st events.  But when I realized that all I was doing was lying around the house feeling miserable, I decided to go to the school and complete what I had started with the kids.  It turned into a very healing experience for me; one I will never forget. 

A year later, Jim and I were at the cabin in North Carolina for Memorial Day weekend, which also happened to be the first anniversary of my dad's passing.  By this time I had finished my first semester of community college, and was starting the summer session. The following is from a journal entry I wrote on that day: May 31, 1999.  A poem I would discover years later follows.

I let my father go because I had to. He had to enter those woods alone. I have work to do in this world. The day before he died I had outlined my future. My day had gotten interrupted by an accident on the highway that prevented me from reaching Columbus to see my niece's dance recital.  Instead I went home and I answered questions in The Path as I sat alone and visioned my future.

The next day I walked in the woods feeling joyful, yet feeling something was "off."  An erratic yellow butterfly ran into me on the path, which I found rather strange. Usually they are so graceful. I went to church, then ventured to the hospital in the late afternoon.

My brother John was there, and told me the story from the doctor. I didn't believe him. My father looked no better. He was feisty and funny. It rained. Then the sun came out and the rain on the screen looked luminous to my father. I think he was seeing the entry to heaven. He wanted to know when I would leave.

I walked out of the hospital wondering why I didn't pray for my father. It was quickly revealed I was in constant prayer and that I had incredible trust in God. That everything would be alright. That there was perfection and I would know it.

I prepared for the next day. I talked on the phone to one of the students. I ate some chili. I was not ready for that phone call.

I was plunged into the gray depths but by late evening was found floating on the surface of the water there, buoyed up by the love of my friends and Jim. Life would go on. I just needed to get through the next week.

Southeast Middle school and the kids saved me. Drumming, telling stories, "Happy Healing," flowers, acknowledgement, hugs. God showing me my mission sandwiched between the death of my father. God lifting me up with a vision that sustains me. This is why today, although I grieve and I miss my daddy, I know I must be here and I know I have important work--school and incredible career path in education.

No, my father will not be physically present when I get my degrees. But he is always present for he is part of me--a gentle, loving, artistic part of me that holds unconditional love and acceptance. This is his gift to me and I thank him.

And then this side note: 
Oh my God--as I was writing, a little brown and white moth came and sat right on my pen. I am stunned. My pen was moving along and the moth just sat there, tickling my thumb. Daddy, I know you are with me.

Mariposa  

by Edna St. Vincent Millay

Butterflies are white and blue
In this field we wander through.
Suffer me to take your hand.
Death comes in a day or two.

All the things we ever knew
Will be ashes in that hour,
Mark the transient butterfly,
How he hangs upon the flower.

Suffer me to take your hand.
Suffer me to cherish you
Till the dawn is in the sky.
Whether I be false or true,
Death comes in a day or two. 

Walking Poem-- "Gaps"

Called to the woods today
First full day out of school
Seemed to be the most perfect thing to so
Be among the cypress and the ferns that
Make up the southwest Florida landscape I love
Walking walking
Trees and brush and squirrels
Incredible fluffy clouds over a lake
Where catfish lethargically swim around the limestone
Frog calls. Boardwalk winds.
Then...a gap
An area of water, not a lake, just an opening
Where no ferns grow
Where vision is expanded
Where dragonflies dart and play
Herons fly. Naturally occurring.
A place to breathe.

The gap filled me with regret
The regret all teachers know
That my students learned so much
But there was still so much left unlearned
No matter how I try to make it all
Fit and click
There are always the gaps
The openings like a crevice.
They come to me and I do my best
I request effort and commitment on their part
I require them to think.

I left high school teaching because I saw the gaps
I had hoped as a middle school teacher I could better prepare them
And for a moment one day
Reading final exam essays
I thought I had it
I thought, yes, they are ready

But maybe not
For as a reflective practitioner I have to face the truth
There are always gaps
The point is to learn, make a new plan, try anew
Ten years in the classroom...yes, I know more now
But it never feels like enough.

This is why teachers need time away from school
(The idea of year round school terrifies me)
I need time to think, contemplate, investigate
I need to gain the belief that I can do it
That next year when they walk out of my class
The gaps won't be so gaping
That maybe I nearly got it right

August will come.
I will take a deep breath
And begin again.

Transitions

Counting down...

Yes, I've been counting down the school year with an app on my iPad.  This image was taken just a few minutes before I sat down to write.

When I see that there are just two days left, I rejoice inside.  It signals an end to a constant conflict I live with.

When I decided to become a teacher, my goal was to be a writer as well.  I had this idea I could do both.  But it hasn't turned out that way.

I changed grade levels and schools last year in an attempt to make my writing life more of a reality.  It has worked a little, but certainly not to the degree I would like.

When I was first teaching, I came upon an article written by a college professor who said it was impossible to do both.  That teaching demanded so much energy, that it stole from the writing time.  I let that soothe me for many years.

Yet, I continue to meet and hear of people who are doing it -- most often staying up all night, then teaching all day.  I know enough about my process to know that won't work for me.

But I reached a point in my life I don't want to wait any more, so I took action. And it has helped.  This is my 113th blog post in less than a year -- which is 113 more pieces of writing than I had done the previous several years.  When I remember to look at that, I realize I have made some progress.

Still...conflicts erupt.

I've been reading The Letters of Ernest Hemingway, 1923-1925 this weekend, and in it I found a letter he wrote to book editor Edward O' Brien in November 1923.  At the time he was working as a journalist in Toronto, a job and environment he hated. He said the following:

Have felt pretty low and discouraged here.  Working so that you're too tired at night to think let alone write and then in the morning a story start in your head on the street car and have to choke it off because it was coming so perfectly and easily and clear and right and you know that if you let it go on it will be finished and gone and you'd never be able to write it. I'm all constipated up with stuff to write, that I've got to write before it goes bad in me.  (75)

There is was!  The conflict I often feel, the experience I have had repeatedly, the agony.  I know this, have felt it, am feeling it now...stories piled up inside...

So when I look at 2 days, 3 hours, and 4 minutes (even less now), I rejoice a little inside. The conflict I feel will lift for a while.  I can dive back in.

Hemingway quit The Toronto Star, moved back to Paris, and the rest is literary history.  I don't have any notion of being the next Hemingway.  But I will be happy to move into the season of summer where the constant tug-of-war is released for a while.  It is now my responsibility to make the best of it -- something I don't always do.

I know the conflict will be return when school begins again, and that is just something I will accept.  It will soon become routine to transition to and fro, as I get better at keeping at my writing practice.

Meanwhile, I will do my best to look at the small victories -- a solid writing group, a daily journal practice, a blog that documents I have followed through in many small ways -- and take solace that it is here I am meant to be. It's a practice, a process, a river that flows even when rocks and logs impede it.  I have tasted it and will savor the successes, and let the rest go.

Natalie Goldberg says in her book Wild Mind: Living the Writer's Life:

Writing is elemental. Once you have tasted its essential life, you cannot turn from it without some deep denial and depression. It would be like turning from water. Water is in your blood. You can't go without it (44).

and later in the book...

...transitions are hard...It is a matter of moving through time and bleeding through one reality and into another. It takes patience to become good at it, but it is essential. We are not our writing. Our writing is a moment moving through us (121).

This week, I open up to the transition and await the ocean that lives inside of me.  I am grateful.  I am ready.

My Sunday Song -- 5/25 -- "No Surrender"

My project this weekend is completing preparations for the closing ceremony for my 8th graders, which will take place on Tuesday.  They are music lovers, so I have chosen a song for each of them. The ceremony will consist of playing a snippet of the song and presenting each of them with a short note on why I chose that song for him or her.

As is the case with these types of things, many students were quick and easy in song placement. Others were harder to place, sending me searching for an appropriate message through song.

This brought me to Bruce Springsteen's Born in the USA album and the song "No Surrender."  I actually had forgotten about this song, but is perfect with opening lyrics:

We busted out of class had to get away from those fools
We learned more from a three minute record than we ever learned in school

If I hadn't already been an adult when this song came out, it would have been my mantra.

I found this acoustic version of the song to share today.  I'll be playing the kick ass rock version for the students.  I found a student this fits perfectly.  He's super smart, a non-stop reader, and runs with a certain group of friends that seem inseparable.

We made a promise we swore we'd always remember
No retreat no surrender
Like soldiers in the winter's night with a vow to defend
No retreat no surrender

Love your Sunday.  Here's Bruce.

Connection: The Eyes Have It

As the school year winds down, I find my creative impulses as a writer growing.  One of the best parts about being a writer is observing the world around me and finding patterns and connections.  It often happens without warning -- I am not trying to make connections -- they are simply presenting themselves to me, and it is my job to notice.

Such was the case yesterday.  I read an article in the New York Times that really stuck with me.  It was about how something as innocuous as a cartoon rabbit looking at your from a box of cereal or an emoticon of a smiley face can bring a powerful feeling of connection.  The research referred to in the article said that even blind people's brains light up when someone looks at them. (Click here to read "Psst. Look Over Here")

One of my favorite parts of the article is this:

“A richer mode of communication is possible right after making eye contact,” Dr. Senju said. “It amplifies your ability to compute all the signals so you are able to read the other person’s brain.”

In other words, eye contact makes us more socially aware and empathetic. It allows us to make sense of our relationships and social orientation. So avoiding eye contact out of fear or insecurity, or breaking eye contact to read a text, check email or play Candy Crush degrades your social facility and emotional intelligence."

I know I have sometimes felt a strong degree of anger when someone looks away to their phone, instead of staying involved in our conversation.  Now I know where the anger comes from: it breaks a connection that has been made.

The article immediately made me think of a book I had read almost twenty years ago, one whose title and author totally escapes me. But what I remember is that it stated that around middle school age, parents and other people stop looking at young people. This is a change from when they are babies, toddlers, and younger children.  By preteen stage or later, the eye turns more critical to the young person.  It is something I try to remember with my own students (although, admittedly, it is very hard!) and I try to employ what that author recommended: Stop. Look. Love.

I also thought that this research on someone's eyes looking upon us might be the reason "selfies" are so popular. When we are needing a feeling of connection, taking a picture of ourselves looking at ourselves may be filling a real emotional need.

Must have needed someone to look at me.

And third, I thought of the growing dis-ease educators feel having to administer the somewhat cruel standardized tests.  It is we who have to look in the eyes of the children and tell they they have to do this -- not the politicians, not Arne Duncan, not the people making millions from these tests.  I bet if there had been a video camera in my room when I was administering the test, you would have seen that I couldn't look at the kids.  I knew I was betraying them.  My discomfort affected me physically, mentally, and emotionally for over two weeks; it disconnected me from my students in a seriously painful way.

Okay, so there is that.

Then later, on Facebook, my dear friend and sister educator Annmarie Ferry posted this video.  It was brought to her attention by a student.  I was extremely moved by this.  Again -- it has to do with how we see or don't see people.  It has to do with where we look.

Have the Homeless Become Invisible?

 I know. It is easier not to look.  Guilty.

So...what is the point of all of this?  What conclusion have I drawn?  Probably nothing terribly new. Just a reminder that it is more important than we know to actually use eye contact with each other.  It strengthens us in ways we are not even aware. Being able to honestly look into the eyes of our significant others, children, students, the elderly, the homeless -- it can be a challenge.  It may even make us feel uncomfortable.  But if there is a conclusion to be drawn, it is this -- we will never have a better world without it.  

Here is a hopeful observation.  Lately I have been spending more time walking out in nature -- the beaches, Lakes Park, and my neighborhood.  What I notice is that it is almost a rule to say "hi" to the people you pass, even if you are walking and they are on a bike, even if they are running with an iPod plugged in.  Whenever someone doesn't make eye contact and at least nod, it feels like they are being rude.  And there is always the awkward moment when the runner or biker passes you the second time (since I'm always walking.)  Do we say "hi" again?  It is funny, but I think this level of eye communication is growing, not receding.  I think that is a good thing.

Finally, Annmarie also posted this Sylvia Path quote:

So many people are shut up tight inside themselves like boxes, yet they would open up, unfolding quite wonderfully, if you only were interested in them.

 I don't know the context of this quote, if it was in a poem, novel, or just a conversation with her.  Knowing Plath suicided at a young age makes this very poignant to me. It is a gentle reminder that it doesn't take much to help another person feel acknowledged, visible, and maybe even understood. All we have to do is look.

My Sunday Song -- 5/18 -- Two from Todd

Graduation weekend is here in Lee County, and many good wishes are going around.  When mulling over a song for today, I remembered that in the 1970's Todd Rundgren's "Just One Victory" was a popular graduation song.  Over the years I have noticed that many young people are into music from earlier eras, but somehow most of the time they are not familiar with Todd.  It puzzles me, but I guess he just one who hasn't "stuck."

No matter.  I searched out "Just One Victory" but couldn't find a good, clean version to share. Then I happened upon a fairly good video with "Love is the Answer" and "Just One Victory" paired -- bingo!  These are the perfect messages I would like to send to all graduates today (including the seniors from Lehigh Senior whom I taught in American Literature last year.)

Significant lyrics:

Light of the world shine on me
Love is the answer
Shine on us all, set us free
Love is the answer

When you feel afraid
Love one another
When you've lost your way
Love one another
When you're down and out
Love one another
You've gotta love one another
Love is the answer
(Love is the Answer)



We've been waiting so long
We've been waiting for the sun to rise and shine
Shining still.  Give us the will.
Somehow, someday
We need just one victory and we're on our way
Praying for it all day. Fighting for it all night.
Give us just one victory, it will be alright.
(Just One Victory)

Todd Rundgren

Congratulations, Class of 2014.  May you remember to love and persevere, and find a small victory every day in that which matters.

Beach Day -- 17 May (Refuge Day Poem)

I arrive.

Bunche Beach 7:20 a.m.

I take refuge in the Buddha

Whisper of a moon in the morning sky
Golden-winged dragonfly
Sand matted flat from high tide.

Sky. Air. Earth.

Common spider crab

I take refuge in the Dharma

Crabs skittering
Fishermen casting
Kayaks loading
Hawks hunting
Plovers meditating

Prayers.

Prayer spot -- see the moon in the left corner?

 I take refuge in the Sangha

6 Pelicans
5 Black-bellied plovers
4 Spider Crabs
3 Fishermen
2 Walkers
1 Swimmer

Lovingkindness.

May we be peaceful
May we be happy
May we live with ease
May we be free from inner and outer harm
May we care for each other joyfully on this earth.

Beach Day -- 12 May

Middle Gulf Beach

Haiku 

Strong surf running wild

shells congregated masses

sun beaming brightly.

Black-bellied plover

A spontaneous poem after walking the shoreline.

The ancients are calling

Grains of sand carried far

  from their original home

A shell has made a journey

A thousand shells a migration

A million shells an invasion

Our world interconnected

Touch the sand, the shell,

touched by the ancestors

All the ones who came before

Same sun

    Same surf

                       Same destined world.

My Sunday Song 5/11 -- "Letting Go"

When considering a song for Mother's Day, I went through a very short list before deciding quickly on one of my favorite Suzy Bogguss songs -- "Letting Go."  (Not to be confused with "Let It Go" from Frozen.)

I have not had children of my own, but have stepchildren and for a couple of years raised the child of one of my stepsons.  It was a crazy two years, and I got a good dose of what a parent goes through.  I also remember clearly how I felt when he returned to live with his dad.  I was grief-stricken.

For that reason, this song does have resonance.  I know many of you reading this may not even have children yet.  This song defines a moment that all mothers go through, and it does it beautifully. The fact that Suzy's husband wrote it tells me he is an amazingly sensitive person.

Here are the words to "Letting Go" and below a link to a wonderful rendition Suzy does at the Grand Ole Opry.

Happy Mother's Day to all, no matter what stage of the mothering experience you are in.

Letting Go

Written by Doug Crider and Matt Rollings

She'll take the painting in the hallway,
The one she did in jr. high
And that old lamp up in the attic,
She'll need some light to study by.

She's had 18 years to get ready for this day
She should be past the tears, she cries some anyway

Oh oh letting go
There's nothing in her way now,
Oh letting go, there's room enough to fly
And even though, she's spent her whole life waiting,
It's never easy letting go.

Mother sits down at the table
So many things she'd like to do
Spend more time out in the garden
Now she can get those books read too.

She's had 18 years to get ready for this day
She should be past the tears, she cries some anyway.

Oh oh letting go
There's nothing in her way now,
Oh letting go, there's room enough to fly
And even though, she's spent her whole life waiting,
It's never easy letting go.

"Letting Go" live at the Grand Ole Opry

Suzy Bogguss - Letting Go Lyrics

Artist: Suzy Bogguss
Album: Miscellaneous
Genre: Country

Heyo! SONGLYRICS just got interactive. Highlight. Review: RIFF-it.
RIFF-it good.

Listen to Letting Go

Listen while you read!

She'll take the painting in the hallway
The one she did in Jr. High
That old lamp up in the attic
She'll need some light to study by

She's had 18 years
To get ready for this day
She should be past the tears
She cries some anyway

Oh, oh, letting go
There's nothing in her way now
Oh, letting go, there's room enough to fly
And even though, she's spent her whole life waiting
It's never easy letting go

Mother sits down at the table
So many things she'd like to do
Spend more time out in the garden
Now she can get those books read too

She's had 18 years
To get ready for this day
She should be past the tears
But she cries some anyway

Oh, oh, letting go
There's nothing in her way now
Oh, letting go, there's room enough to fly
And even though, she's spent her whole life waiting
It's never easy letting go

Oh, oh, letting go
There's nothing in her way now
Oh, letting go, there's room enough to fly
And even though, she's spent her whole life waiting
It's never easy letting go

It's never easy letting go

Listen to Letting Go

• Writer(s): Doug Crider, Matt Rollings,

Read more at http://www.songlyrics.com/suzy-bogguss/letting-go-lyrics/#fJMRFSLI3wQvxlkE.99

She'll take the painting in the hallway
The one she did in Jr. High
That old lamp up in the attic
She'll need some light to study by

She's had 18 years
To get ready for this day
She should be past the tears
She cries some anyway

Oh, oh, letting go
There's nothing in her way now
Oh, letting go, there's room enough to fly
And even though, she's spent her whole life waiting
It's never easy letting go

Mother sits down at the table
So many things she'd like to do
Spend more time out in the garden
Now she can get those books read too

She's had 18 years
To get ready for this day
She should be past the tears
But she cries some anyway

Oh, oh, letting go
There's nothing in her way now
Oh, letting go, there's room enough to fly
And even though, she's spent her whole life waiting
It's never easy letting go

Oh, oh, letting go
There's nothing in her way now
Oh, letting go, there's room enough to fly
And even though, she's spent her whole life waiting
It's never easy letting go

It's never easy letting go

Send "Letting Go" Ringtone to your Mobile

• Writer(s): Doug Crider, Matt Rollings, Matthew Charles Rollings
  Copyright: Atlantic Music Corp. O.B.O. Zesty Zack'S Music, Zesty Zacks Music

Read more at http://www.songlyrics.com/suzy-bogguss/letting-go-lyrics/#EROiL4qC7qkMuIKc.99

She'll take the painting in the hallway
The one she did in Jr. High
That old lamp up in the attic
She'll need some light to study by

She's had 18 years
To get ready for this day
She should be past the tears
She cries some anyway

Oh, oh, letting go
There's nothing in her way now
Oh, letting go, there's room enough to fly
And even though, she's spent her whole life waiting
It's never easy letting go

Mother sits down at the table
So many things she'd like to do
Spend more time out in the garden
Now she can get those books read too

She's had 18 years
To get ready for this day
She should be past the tears
But she cries some anyway

Oh, oh, letting go
There's nothing in her way now
Oh, letting go, there's room enough to fly
And even though, she's spent her whole life waiting
It's never easy letting go

Oh, oh, letting go
There's nothing in her way now
Oh, letting go, there's room enough to fly
And even though, she's spent her whole life waiting
It's never easy letting go

It's never easy letting go

Send "Letting Go" Ringtone to your Mobile

• Writer(s): Doug Crider, Matt Rollings, Matthew Charles Rollings
  Copyright: Atlantic Music Corp. O.B.O. Zesty Zack'S Music, Zesty Zacks Music

Read more at http://www.songlyrics.com/suzy-bogguss/letting-go-lyrics/#EROiL4qC7qkMuIKc.99

My Sunday Song 5/4 -- "Life Uncommon"

Jewel is a beautiful singer and songwriter. I have been familiar with her song "Life Uncommon" since her Spirit album came out, and have a recorded version on her Christmas album.

Last night I found this wonderful live version, which brings new energy and brilliance to the song.  I have posted the words below.

This is dedicated to all my teacher friends who keep fighting the good fight for their students.

Enjoy your Sunday.  Happy Music!

Jewel "Life Uncommon"

Life Uncommon

by Jewel

Don't worry mother
It'll be alright
And don't worry sister
Say your prayers and sleep tight
And it'll be fine
Lover of mine
It'll be just fine

And lend your voices only
To sounds of freedom
No longer lend your strength
To that which you wish
To be free from
Fill your lives
With love and bravery
And you shall lead
A life uncommon

I've heard your anguish
I've heard your hearts cry out
We are tired, we are weary
But we aren't worn out
Set down your chains
Until only faith remains
Set down your chains

And lend your voices only
To sounds of freedom
No longer lend your strength
To that which you wish
To be free from
Fill your lives
With love and bravery
And we shall lead
A life uncommon

There are plenty of people
Who pray for peace
But if praying were enough
It would've come to be
Let your words enslave no one
And the heavens will hush themselves
To hear our voices ring our clear
With sounds of freedom
Sounds of freedom

Come on you unbelievers
Move out of the way
There is a new army coming
And we are armed with faith
To live, we must give
To live

And lend our voices only
To sounds of freedom
No longer lend our strength
To that which we wish
To be free from
Fill your lives
With love and bravery
And we shall lead...

And lend our voices only
To sounds of freedom
No longer lend our strength
To that which we wish
To be free from
Fill your lives
With love and bravery
And we shall lead
A life uncommon

Fill your lives
With love and bravery
And we shall lead
A life uncommon