sol25 Tiny But Mighty

 

The "vintage" Casablanca version dangled above my head like a giant albatross for years. I did turn it on once, in the early days, when the temperature in my bedroom was unbearable; however, it bobbled and swayed like an aging dancer attempting a late night fox trot on the ceiling! Since then, it just "hung around" awaiting extrication. 

"Could you just cap it?" I asked the electrician after he did the required electrical updates celebrating my home's centennial birthday. 

"Why not a little fan," he suggested whipping out a couple of photos. 

That is how the tiny, but mighty fan found its way onto my ceiling reminding me that you can be tiny, but mighty.

June 12 Have You Ever Wondered?

Have you ever felt your heart in your throat? 

Have you ever wondered what you really saw? 

I live in an area that was once heavily influenced by Italian immigrants as noted by streets named for saints and shops still filled with cuccidati. In recent times, immigrants from Central and South America have filed in thanks again to jobs and access to NYC. Their contributions, as well as their empanadas, are important to the ever changing fabric of America.

As I headed to the bank, I saw what I first thought was a funeral procession with large black Suburbans, but parked in from of a row of restaurants? There were also vans and sedans, some double parked. The people in black clothing, some in masks, made me think a hold-up was in process, for a moment, but there was no secrecy to this operation and I adjusted my thinking. Unlike on TV, no one had an ICE label emblazoned on their chest and rather than guns drawn, some were holding large coffee cups? There were no identifiable police cars around.  Yet, in this er of immigration crackdown?

As I got closer, my heart was in my throat and I wondered if this could really be, in my small town, in the early morning hours, in broad daylight, what I thought it was?  Should I stop and protest the deportation of people making empanadas in my community?   Or, was this an early morning food run before the days' arrests?  

I circled around the block again, wondering, worrying, with my heart in my throat, because it would seem as if someone, somewhere would not be going home tonight. 

I suspect I am not alone in wondering what is going on and why?

sol25 June 10 Slices of News

 

I remember (augmented by pictures) sitting on the couch, reading a newspaper with my father.  It is possible the memory is cemented by images of him reading the newspaper no matter where we lived! There was of discussion of news at the dinner table and sports, morning and night, even more when my brother discovered the sports page!

Memories of major news moments, Vietnam Protests, 9-11, are framed by words, pictures and opinion columns about the events. 

For many busy years, my daily reading was the local headlines, but the weekend papers were embraced extra coffee and news abandon.   

Lately, I glance over my weekly local paper with updates about fires and politics for about 45 seconds IF the 4 pages do not get drenched in rain before I see it. There is little of substance; yet, I read it out of habit.

These days, I start with the NY Times Online in the early morning and catch updates with coffee. This morning, again, the headlines and the subheads were brutally disheartening. My heart beat faster and my angst grew exponentially as I tried to make sense of the many fights, feuds, and frays along with the threats, lies, and theatrics.  

These days, I no longer look forward to the news. 

These days, I am afraid.

SOL25 The Great Debate Rages Onward

 Thanks to The Two Writing Teachers Site for

supporting this Tuesday Slice of Life share.

"Everything we were doing was wrong," the former colleague said proudly sharing her real Orton Gillingham training and disregard of anything else. I acknowledged her enthusiasm while thinking about asking how she is addressing vocabulary and comprehension.  "Once they can decode, reading just takes care of itself," she grinned. 

I cringed and thought about whether or not to engage, but my voice was not to be quieted. "I like the way Orton provides a solid phonics framework, but what I feel the deja-vu of the Great Debate (Chall, 1967). The Science of Reading research clearly states that the most effective way is to teach reading is decoding and language comprehension. You might want to check out Scarborough's reading rope idea (1990) to understand some of the balancing perspective."

"It's OK," she smiled, "this time we have it right!"

I thought about all those old textbooks from the early 1900's I collected over the years each proclaiming either vocabulary rich or phonetic approaches to reading depending on the year of publication.

I thought about the millions of phonetic readers and now leveled texts relegated to landfills on the way home.

The Last Class

When a class ends,

Rejoicing mixes with pensiveness,

Particularly when your Jesuit-based-institution

Embraces reflection.

Sometimes, those reflections are

A better evidence of learning than grades.

"Last year, I thought I knew everything about learning to read and almost everything about teaching because I had been to school and my children were in school even though I had not begun teaching. I thought "old" teachers did not think about kids and only cared about paychecks. I thought I was going to be THAT teacher that threw out all the old stuff that was not working and change things.  I would have all my students focus on phonological awareness and after they were sure of all the sounds they would be reading everything they wanted to read. I was sure that I had all the answers. Then, the more I learned, the more I learned I needed to learn, and the more I wanted to learn, and the more questions I had! Some might say that my questions mean I am not ready to be a leader; however, I know, now, that my questions mean I am prepared to be a critical reader, a careful consumer of ideas, and a respectful teacher who knows there are no one-size fix-all-solutions to working with the diverse humans who all deserve to be readers, writers, and learners in all of our classes."

Class dismissed. 

May 24 Memorial Poppies

This short poem, a Shadorma (3-5-3-3-7-5) is inspired by 

John who was outside Shoprite on the eve of Memorial Day weekend.

He worked for the VA, lost a leg in Afghanistan and

is passionate about the lessons we should have learned from history.

He sat there

Giving out poppies

Donations

Accepted

Remember those lost in wars

Freedom is not free

SOL25 May 20 Much to Celebrate

Thank you Two Writing Teachers for this weekly forum.

Today, I am sharing a slice of life that has lived only in my heart

Until today.

There was much to celebrate

That evening

Grilled salmon, steamed asparagus, bargain wine,

I recounted my trip down the West Side

My meeting, getting final approval.

"Take your laptop with you," he suggested,

"you might get some work done," not realizing

What lie ahead.

I left before coffee, after the early-morning call. 

An accident, an ambulance, precautions.

I found them still in the ER, waiting for results.

"C1C2 fracture, Level 1 trauma," he said, 

"hopeful, fingers, toes moving," not knowing,

What lie ahead.

Conversations, concerns, signs,

Suggesting a miracle,

There was so much more to celebrate

That morning. 

Ethical ELA May 19 You Helped Me and I Helped You

On a glorious Monday, Ethical ELA prompt requested  a demi-sonnet!  My first thought was to pretend I didn't see the prompt and my second thought was, "too busy!" Yet, 7 lines with a sort-of-rhyme and no syllable count can't be that bad, can it? I knew of the reading experience I was glad I stopped to embrace.

We read "Little Blue Truck,"* every time, 

"You helped me and I helped you." 

Your damp locks next to my heart, 

Until the "Day the Crayons Quit,"* where you knew

Every single laugh, pun, joke in every single line,

Finally, you picked up "Dog Man,"* on your own

Smiling, while happy-sad tears welled in mine.

*Little Blue Truck (Schertle), The Day the Crayons Quit (Daywalt), and Dog Man (Pilkey)are popular children's books that span the early reading experience for children (and their lucky Memes). 

Ethical ELA May 18 Bindings

Today's Ethical ELA asks us to write a poem "about the tension and beauty of living between two cultures."   My own heritage is pieced together like a quilt; yet, I am certain that surnames as well as first names provide a binding that determines how we perceive ourselves as well as how others see us.

From the very beginning

I was wrapped in a shamrock green quilt,

The Dineen surname overpowering

Equal sized fabrics from,

Germany, Italy and Wales.  

My siblings, Kathleen and Jeremiah,

Despite identical genetics,

Far more Irish than I,

Anita, whose perhaps

Spanish or Peruvian name

Added color, if not clear roots,

To my quilt.

Hesitantly,

I traded my quilt's backing

For one where race cars

Mingle with calamari,

Providing my children

The Ferreri surname binding

Pieces of their own quilts

From Germany, Italy, Wales, Ireland 

With perhaps, embroidery from Spain or Peru!

Ethical ELA May 17 To Forgive

Ethical ELA's Open Write asks us to reflect on forgiveness, a topic that evokes raw emotion in me.  

I've

Said, "I forgive you."

Tried to

Forgive.

Let go of resentment.

Redirect anger.

Reimagine my life. 

I've 

Read Relationship Trauma*

Done therapy and yoga.

Planted flowers.

Walked many miles.

Discarded memories.

Envisioned a new story.

I'm still

Sad on

Holidays, anniversaries.

Aware that for me,

To forgive is 

An every-day-of-your-life 

Recurring action,

A means to move forward.

A verb.

*by Melissa Fulgieri

Listen

It started at a full-day-long tournament when a little one grabbed the opportunity to ask for a story about her when she was a baby. I listened to her request and did my best to settle into storytelling despite the drizzle and hard ground. The next request was for a story about brothers and then for an imaginary story.  To be honest, it was raining slowly when we started but the rain did motivate me to create a moat around the castle-home. Eventually, it was running down our backs and cheeks, but she smiled, listening intently, not one bit worried about the storm overhead.

The next day, it happened at an appointment with the requisite waiting room experience. An older-than-me gentleman started talking and I listened to his thoughts on the Mets. For the record, I know little about the Mets beyond their stadium in Queens.  After he was called into the exam area, his wife (I assume) came back to thank me for making the nervous wait easier. I smiled thinking, perhaps, my listening to him gave her time to prepare for whatever storms lie ahead.

Days later, it happened when visiting a friend whose life was changing before her eyes as she packed up a lifetime of memories and tried to hold on to a semblance of normalcy as a giant-storm changed the trajectory of her life. She listened intently as I shared what had been happening in her absence. I listened as she talked about frustrations, fears, and unlikely solutions to the storm washing away her own dreams. 

The real-life rain storm outside was slowly abating as I left, leaving the dumpster as well as the street glistening and me deep in thought about how listening makes all the storms of life a wee bit better.

SOL25 May 6 I Wish I Knew Then What I Know Now

Long ago, I performed at Flintsone Elementary.* My cooperating teacher was not much older, but she encouraged my performances. My thirty first graders, however, rarely listened in spite of Oscar qualifying performances. I wondered if their listening had been impacted by the constant din of the adjacent Capital Beltway traffic. 

I really didn't think about the performing when I started this new chapter, but I did find myself, on a Sunday night, crafting a lesson plan, typing it up, and placing it in a zip lock bag (this part was new to me). I also checked my playlist (new to me) and did a practice run before laying out a new bathing suit (also new to me) and heading to bed. I was ready, but anxious, and I slept like someone awaiting a performance. 

My palms were sweating when Happy Together began, but I was confident that my carefully honed playlist including Pretty Woman and Stop in the Name of Love would bring back memories of dancing and encourage moving. We stretched, kicked, bicycled and laughed in a somewhat familiar routine.  I veered off my notes, at times, as a good teacher does in response to observations of student progress; however, it was clearly my students, who are also my classmates, who were performing, singing and motivating me with smiles and encouragement.   

Afterwards, I reflected about the parts that worked and what I could make better. I found myself reminiscing about the days, long ago at Flintstone Elementary School when I really thought teaching was performing! Now, I know the sports world has a better model for encouraging others to do their best. These days, I know a lot more about engaging, motivating and coaching others.  Afterwards, I found myself wishing I knew then what I know now.

to perform: 1) carry out, accomplish; 2) present to an audience

to coach: one who instructs and directs team strategy

* I really did student teaching at Flintstone Elementary School!

May 1, 2025 Promises

"You still look pretty good, " I thought as I glanced at the centerpiece that had been on my table for nearly a week. While some of her flowers were showing age, she was still a tangible reminder of a wonderful celebration of love with rarely consumed tidbits (like shrimp tacos) and endless dancing. 

"You provoke so many memories," I thought as she watched me write this blog post. Yes, it seems like it was not that long ago that I was the young-un, filled with love and hope, getting married.  Yes, it seems like it was not that long ago that I was the out there dancing until my blisters had blisters!  Yes, it seems like yesterday that I was on the planning team. 

"You, too, are changing, ever so slowly," I thought as I separated a crunchy rose from her midst. You are a reminder that living and loving means respecting that everything and everyone are constantly changing. Those little kids who used to gather around the tree in footies are now dancing with their newlywed daughters who once were wrapped in quilts I once made of love. 

I am pretty sure I have never taken a centerpiece home after a wedding before, but watching it change this week has been a reminder that I guess I needed during a week with achy knees (I did dance) and both end-of-the-semester and end-of-life celebrations. It was a good thing I did, as it has been an anchor in a week with plentiful reminders that everything has to change, that is just the way it is.  

I am pretty sure it takes a whole lot of faith to see beyond the changes.

I am sure those seeds that we plant along the way are promises of new life and abundant love in wonderful formats (and to music) that we might not even imagine. 

Words Change Lives

This morning, I am a bit sad that April, filled with writing and reading poetry is coming to a close; however, I am also inspired to write to remember, to dream, to hope, and even to protest.  I am also happy that I found an inspiring group of writing fanatics who happily fill their time with reading and writing. Here is my note of thanks for all the prompts and encouragement this month. 

Did

You know

Venturing

Out of your blog

Weaving words into 

Daisy chains of ideas

With pros, having profound thoughts,

Finding inspiration, fueling

Ideas, phrases as you work, walk,

Exploring a formidable genre?

Was a possibility for me?

I was intimidated, but,

I jumped in bravely sharing,

Your words inspiring mine

Sharing memories,

Powerful, deep,

Words change

Lives

Memories Take Root

We always talk about revision with students.  This is a revised poem focused on AI Titles for Ethical ELA that reminds me of the power of revision. 

I started at the house

Still on the corner,

Without its front porch?

No rambling butterfly bushes? 

Now purple with florescent green trim?

Looking so different, so sad.

"Keep moving,"

I said, wistfully,

Thinking about the newlyweds

Building new memories

From seeds planted long ago.

As I turned my car towards home,

Where my crisp white porch, 

Lots of pots, and a packet of seeds,

Were waiting for me.

SOL25 April 29 I Drove By

Today's SOL is inspired by Kiley's comments

during a cocktail hour before the dancing!

She was talking about her grandparents' home.

"I drove by their old house," she said,
"I almost didn't recognize it. 

There were always flowers,"

she said, remembering, wistfully.

I was not surprised when, the next morning

I turned the car towards

My grandma and Pop Pop's house,

Still on the corner of Orange Ave,

Without its front porch?

Without it's claw-footed clay pots dripping with ivy?

Without the big window into the living room?

Without the out of control butterfly bush?

Looking so different, so sad.

Then, I turned my head towards

My Aunt Minnie's house,

Across the avenue,

No longer neatly painted white with crisp red trim?

Now purple and florescent green trim?

No longer a perfect porch to ponder life's woes?

Now a collection of beds, chairs and debris?

Not a flower in sight.

Looking so different, so sad. 

"I drove by their houses," I thought,

"I didn't like what I saw.

There were always flowers,"

I said wistfully

Knowing it was really the people

Not the flowers I was missing.

"Perhaps you can only move forward,"

 I thought, wistfully,

Thinking about the newlyweds

Building their own new memories

From the seeds of those who grew loving families,

As I turned my car towards home,

Where my pots dripping with pansies waited,

Where my crisp white porch

Filled with chairs for pondering

Was waiting for me.

That Fluorescent Green Bike's Driver

Today's Ethical ELA prompt asked us to write a "cause and effect poem" about how good may arise from or in spite of bad. I wasn't sure, but then I remembered the green motorcycle that took my breath away as it sped past weaving between cars.....

Most mornings I saw

A fluorescent green bike weaving

Dangerously between

Fast moving cars,

A human leaning low

Keeping any human resistance

To the bare minimum,

Learning to the side

Flying between rocky cliffs

To get to wherever,

Leaning to the heavens

To provide guidance.

One morning, I realized I had not seen

The heart stopping weaving mirage 

For a long while.

I wondered, I hoped the green bike,

The death-defying driver were OK,

I said a prayer.

Many mornings later, a headline,

A glimpse of a mangled motorcycle,

Life changing injuries,

Reckless driving changed his course,

Artificial limbs, replacing originals,

Hand controls, replacing antics,

Skin graphs, replacing youthful features. 

That morning, I realized he was

Changing lives, hopefully.

Presenting, now, to schools,

Warning, now, to young ones,

Providing, now, guidance

From the heavens.

A Space For Peace

Ethical ELA's post today asks us to write about a person, place or item that brings or eludes peace. This is an easy one and I chose to write about my front porch, a space for peace.

At the front of the last house,

Flanked by a pair of well worn rocking chairs,

After a year of loss and upheaval,

She welcomed me to sit for a spell.

A gentle breeze, 

A promise of fresh air, a fresh start,

A few cars passing by

A reminder I was not alone, 

I put my feet up on the rail

I opened a familiar book,

I felt the support of all who sat here before,

I breathed for the first time, in a long time,

She was just what I needed, but didn't know,

She was a space for peace. 

Ache of the Day Club

 I have been writing as part of Ethical ELA this month.  Today's prompt asked us to write about the minor aches and pains, rather than the big ones, that are part of each of our lives.  So today, I write about the Ache of the Day Club giving credit to Vinny, who coined the term at early morning aquacise! 

I know you are coming,

Brace myself,

Down the stairs gingerly,

I know I will feel you,

Today in the elbow, first time,

What did I do to deserve this one? 

You were in the right knee yesterday

Did I walk too much?

In the arch of my foot before that,

Those new shoes too tight?

You were there 

As I rose my arms last week

Too much swimming?

Yet that too moved south

To the lower back where I

Slept too hard, too long?

You are around

At times in my heart

Where the aches, pains, concerns,

Sometimes enormous,

Of friends and family

Overwhelm the every-day,

Results of time and usage,

Thanks to you,

I am a member of the

Ache of the Day Club.

April 24 Remembrance Day

Today, Ethical ELA asked us to write about a season, or a time in life.  I am writing a reminder that today is Holocaust Remembrance Day.  It is particularly important to remember this year that no one should blindly follow another human.  Stop and remember.

Today

We should

Take time, remember

Targeting people against people,

Blind following of cult leaders.

Ghettos, hiding, labor and concentration camps,

Mass deportations, brutal treatment, targeted starvation, murder,

Hate over rational thinking, Antisemitism over common sense,

Million of Jewish people lost, plus Gypsies, dissenters, disabled,

Please end persecuting based on religion, heritage Holocaust Remembrance Day.

On Maiden Voyages

This morning on Ethical ELA we are asked to create a list poem.  As I walked in the brilliant sunshine this morning, I noticed a packed UHaul and it brought back memories of college runs....

Have you?

Loaded beds, stacked boxes,

Sweating, breathing expletives,

Rolled rugs, stuffed clothes,

Shoving into crevices,

Culled piles, ditched treasures?

Driven for hours, 

Searched in boxes, glared into bags,

Hoping you have the key?

Looked to the Heavens,

Wondering about this move?

Rented apartments, found trucks,

Knowing it is for an interval,

Believed in opportunities to learn and grow.

Moving the mounds of belongings

Required for young lives

On their maiden voyages?

April 22 That Table

 

For many years, it sat

on her sun porch, 
a rarely visited spot filled with

stacks of old newspapers and magazines and

out of season geraniums.  There,  I found

her previously loved

taking-up housekeeping

center of her life,

heart of her kitchen table.

It was long-ago painted white, 

but worn clean from washing and scrubbing,

with edges covered with evidence of

abandonment as time and tastes moved on.

"Sure, take it," she said of the old table

Likely shaking her head, wondering why

anyone would want that Sears Roebuck

catalog gift for newlyweds with nothing but hope.

I adopted it as a tween to use as a base for

sewing, writing, hoping. 

Painted now in trendy antique red,

it spent an era in my bedroom, 

where it's edges were covered in threads

as a heart of my dreams table.

"Sure you can take it," she said

as I left that home, a newlywed myself

with little but hope. It was

repurposed as a kitchen table for

meals, discussions. 

Painted a trendy yellow,

worn thin from pasta and elbows.

Time past, again, it was

repurposed as a computer table.

Painted brown, it

celebrated it's centennial birthday and

produced a dissertation

before a well-earned retirement in a garage.

Holding left over training wheels,

scraps of wood, wayward nuts, and sagging

with age, it is still holding scraps of life.

SOL25 April 22 Federal Cleaning Department

 

This is slice of my imagination
As I worry about the state of our country.

April 22, 2028

Dear Diary,

I haven't written lately, but I have been busy working phone banks and protest marches with a group of fellow Seniors who are trying to restore the right to vote for those accepting Medicare and Medicaid. I still hold hope that the Supreme Court will hear our protest, but time is ticking for so many of us now that doctors require 6 months of vitamin or leech therapy prior to any appointment. It is also hard for so many of my friends not that insulin is no longer available if your BMI is over 18 for females and 24 for males. If someone had told me back in the day that I would spend my senior years making protest Tic Toks videos, I would not have believed them, but here I am!

I think my fear is that they are coming after those of us who are older indirectly, now that there are no more illegals in this country.  I know that sounds silly, but it is what I think about when I lay in bed at night when I'm not thinking about the challenge of paying bills now that Social Security is reduced to the equivalent of 20 hours a week at minimum wage. I don't mean to digress, dear diary, but I just find the State Department News channel (SDN) so one sided.  I wish there were other options to get information other than X or Tic Toks?

Anyway, I got a text from my family last week and the good news is they are doing well in the 52nd state even if it is really cold every day.  They really are having an adventure to remember. I'd visit but when NYS stuck with congestion pricing, our NYS teacher retirements were frozen for 10 years. Plus if I moved to that cold new state, I'd probably never be able to come back!

Well, I really need to get some sleep as tomorrow I am headed with a group of fellow seniors to  meet with a job recruiter from The Federal Cleaning Department.  They seem to have some work-travel positions for women over 65, with higher BMIs. It might be a good way to see the world. They told us to meet at 7 AM and for security reasons, we should leave cell phones and ID at home. Sounds crazy, right? 

(hope to) See you soon!

Last Week

Last Week,

Was spring break, 

I pre-read papers, 

Provided students with guidance

Encouraged professional work.

Bought a new dress, new shoes                  

For a celebration of love

No dowdy great-aunt!

Geek Squad installed

Wall mounted television 

It is bright.

Unlike the dark news. 

10 prayers of thanks

My children, their children

Rode bikes and shot hoops 

Giving me memories not pictures.

At the end of the week,
A brilliant sunset 

A reminder us all 

Savor the moments.

Searching for Answers April 17

Way back in the last century (1999),

Google searchers were considered

"Cheating,"

Invalid, one-sided research, said

In that negative tone

Used with AI, these days.

Less than a generation later,

Google is a mega employer,

No longer a struggling start-up,

Who no longer provides employees

Free lunch and Maui Onion Chips, 

Fighting the label 

Monopoly. 

What is a monopoly? 

    in economics?

    in business?

    definition?

    in the gilded age?

Is Google a monopoly?

    Why is Google a monopoly?

    How is Google a monopoly?

    What makes Google a monopoly?

    Federal judge rules Google has a monopoly

All this news got me thinking,

What me might call Google spin offs 

(think Ma Bell and her Baby Bells back in the 70's)?

Gluten Free Cookies

At Ethical ELA today, we are challenged to write an etheree consisting of ten lines with each line’s syllabication increasing by one.   I wrote about preparing for the big eating holiday looming. 

If

You love

Someone who must

Not eat gluten flour

You will find a way

To make  yummy Italian Ricotta cookies

Substituting gluten flour for pricey almond flour

Smiling broadly at your accomplishment adapting the ingredients

So that everyone will be included in the gluttony

That we call holiday eating till stuffed without side effects. 

sol25 April 25 That Fall

This month, I've been preoccupied with the daily news; yet, I've found  strength in reading about how others have overcome challenges (Boat Baby).  Today, I'm writing about a challenging time. My mini-memoir.

Fall is still my favorite,

Yet, that year,

As the leaves put on their show,

My marriage ended,

My family disintegrated,

I welcomed grandchildren,

My home base became my car.

My days and nights were a blur

Newborn snuggles, interspersed with hospice care.  

As the seeds of spring took root,

The leaves put on that final show,

She sat in her rocker,

We watched Rachel Ray and talked. Then,

My mother passed in the night.

I sat quietly as her caregiver packed and left

Noticing the leaves giving up,

I sat quietly, reflecting as people came and went.

Watching the leaves falling slowly.

I sat quietly, reflecting, feeling exhausted as 

My sister emptied the pills.

Were the leaves grieving in their own way?

I sat quietly, reflecting, feeling exhausted and empty as

The leaves covered the ground.

Into A Good Book

Today's Ethical ELA prompt asks us to think about a place that feels like a safe harbor to you – and bring that space alive in a poem.   I could have written about beaches where the rhythm of the sea brings me great peace; however, if I am really honest my own safe haven has always been inside a book.

After a harrowing dentist visit,

The door opened,

The delicious reward,

They sat waiting patiently,

I escaped.

We moved again,

The emptiness, overwhelming,

The fears, plentiful,

Nancy Drew, Cherry Ames, The Bobbsey Twins 

Were waiting,

I rejoined my friends.

As a mom

The Lorax called,

The Little House on the Prairie cried out,

The Pitcher with the Glass Arm beckoned,

They were waiting for us,

I savored every word.

As a Meme (pronounced me-me)

The Little Blue Truck never fails,

Fancy Nancy has a lot to say,

Charlotte's Web, one more time.

So many books, so little time,

I know it will not last.

When the news is too much to bear,

The Women and Boat Baby, 

Something Lost and Something Gained 

Remind me that the tide will turn.

I slide under the covers and escape.

Armenian Genocide Remembrance Day

Over at Ethical ELA today we are remembering the Armenian Genocide—a systematic attempt to erase a people, a culture, and a history. But remembrance is not only about loss; it is also about survival, resilience, and honoring those who carried their stories forward. It is one of the many parts of history representing man's inhumanity towards man that is not always part of the curriculum. 

I believe it is impossible to eliminate the seeds of the human spirit. 

They tried to eradicate the resistance

Leaving a trail of blood, tears.

They ended, upended lives

Destroyed families, culture.

They tried to say it never happened

There was no targeted deportation.

There was no genocide. 

They did not know that history

Would remember and condemn their hate.

The seeds of the human spirit remain

In the souls of all those with Armenian blood

In the hearts of all those with empathy

In the spirit of all those who stop to remember.

He Made a Difference

Today's Ethical ELA prompt asked us to select a formative literacy memory. 

I started to write about students having that "ahha" moment of flight as they took off as readers.  Then I drafted a short post about decorating my first writer's notebook during a summer teacher workshop.  But, this still painful memory of learning to be a writer as a member of the Baby Boom generation kept surfacing, and I went with it. 

We packed into classrooms like sardines into tins,

Learned to listen and regurgitate information, ideas.

Endured multiple choice, one word responses.

We discussed an unpopular war,

Analyzed classic, modern literature

Graded by multiple choice, one word responses.

I was on top of the pile of students

Until in that first English Literature paper

Covered in red, emblazoned with See Me.

I swallowed my pride,

Wandered into the TA's office

Learned to write college-level responses.

In my defense, I had written only in a journal, 

Never defended my thoughts for a grade,

Never learned to be a writer. 

In his defense, he could have just written me off

Let me fail,

But, he was a teacher who made a difference.

That First To Us Place

In Ethical ELA today, we are encouraged to write for two minutes about a memory.

It's a long-ag-happy memory even if it was a basement apartment! 

Most people went up the stairs

Sunlight fueled their journeys.

We went below ground into a dark basement,
Where coin-operated washers hummed into the night

Where we never saw the sun rise or set,

Where we slept on the floor,

Yet, we learned to work together

Cooking, cleaning, loving,

In that first-to-us-place. 

Harbingers of Spring

Joanne Emery's at http://www.ethicalela.com encourages us to look closely at something in nature.  here.

It's an ironic twist, 

The early, forced ones arrive,

Rewards for donations

Fighting cancer, 

He always loved them.

While it is still too cold for flowers,

More emerge braving wind and rain

Bringing hope for spring.

Canary yellow blooms against the bleak landscape.

"Harbingers of spring," he would say,

"They will be gone too soon," I think,

Like him.

Depending on When You Met Me

In response to a prompt on Ethical ELA this morning,

Here is my much-too-long story on how things would be different

depending on when you met me!

https://www.ethicalela.com/depending-on-when-you-met-me/

Depending on when you met me

I might have been living in a trailer,

Sleeping with my sister, next to my brother's crib.

I might have been living across the street

From missiles poised to intercept Communism.

Or I might have been settled in

Selma learning, first hand, about

Prejudice, cruelty, and racism.

Depending on when you met me

I might have been protesting on a quad

Long hair blowing in the wind.

I might have been traversing the Beltway

Pretending to be a teacher, 30 first graders.

Or I might have been rejected after another

Interview with no reason.

I might have been a mom of little ones,

Struggling to manage laundry, dishes, the lawn

As well as all those students who depended on me.

I might have been the mom of bigger ones

Trying in vain to attend cold baseball games,

Baking while watching track meets, 

As well as drowning, in IEPs, lesson plans,

While writing curriculum maps.

Or I might have been juggling writing a dissertation

During college football season while care-giving

Parents and teaching both elementary students and 

Graduate students.

I might have been retired from some of my jobs,

Recovering from loss of a partner, plans, dreams.

I might have been

In a new state, new city, new home,

Guiding, supporting and cheer-leading a new crop

Of those pretending to be teachers.

I might have at the gym ,swimming, exercising

Embracing new friends

Thinking of protesting, again,

In shorter, grayer, hair!

SOL25 Presence

 

I have been following the amazing poets

At Ethical ELA.  Today, I am bravely sharing.

You knew it was coming

As you traveled the parkway,

As you passed the never-moving

Mack Truck,

As you 

Paused in the elevator

Yet, it would hit you

As you stepped into the hallway.

The smell.

Carefully selected,

Cooked for hours,

Sliced paper thin,

With repugnant mint jelly.

After a lifetime of birthing,

Raising her gaggle,

Struggling to survive farm-life,

Watching them disperse, 

It was all she had left for

The last grandchildren.

I think of her now

As I share Crayola & Gerald,

Embrace Pokeman & Minecraft,

Grateful that I have something left.

Someday, I hope,

I will leave mine

With memories

Not of leg-of-lamb,

But of my presence.

sol25 April 1 Real Life Intervened

 

I was going to start April

With a Foolish Slice,

Real Life Intervened

The sky was dark

The lights flickering

As I brewed Lemon Ginger.

The thunder was deafening

The lightning spell-binding

As I settled to read end-March slices.

I connected, commented, smiled,

Reflected, wondered, agreed,

Enjoyed the afterglow

As the storm raged outside

Until the lights and internet

Declared the month done.

No more reading

No more commenting

For now,

Yet, a sound and light show

Beckoning attention

Heralding April Poetry.

#sol25 March 31 Not Just Lambs and Lions

 

In the old poem 

March comes & goes,

In like a lamb, out like a lion?

Yet, March is much more,

Changing seasons & times,

Ditching boots & mittens,

Transitioning & becoming,

Writing & reading,

Noticing & reflecting,

Learning & remembering.

I came to March

Hesitant & reluctant

I leave

Grateful for the power of words

And this powerful community.

I am thankful for Stacy,

All the TWT leaders,

This community,

This Slice of Life Challenge

sol25 March 30 Stayin' Alive

 

On this next to last day

2025 SOL Challenge,

This is a reminder:

Whether you're a brother or 

Whether you're a mother

You're staying alive, stayin' alive

Ah, ha ha ha stayin' alive.....

It had been a while

Decades, in fact.

I have never used it,

Not the newer "community"

Nor the older "breathing"

Models of doing it.

Nor do I plan to ever.

The protocol did not change.

The video was still blurry

The presenters still trying

The topic very serious

The practice "dummy"

Still legless and unreactive,

Still clad in a warm-up.

Yet, I am confident

If I had to do it

If there was no one else

I could do CPR

If I absolutely had to
I could use an AED

To help someone

Stay Alive

So could you

In an hour.