Ready to Make Friends with Poetry? ⟶
May 12, 1974 “Dearest Jody, I’m writing you today to say, “I’m glad I’m your mom.” I am now, and always have been, so proud of you, Jo. Can’t remember a single moments’ “trouble” that you’ve ever been in or any periods of anxiety that you have caused. Sure there were minutes of panic…like the…
One of the best things about teaching Elementary School as a substitute teacher is hanging out with second graders (my favorite grade–innocent, love their teachers, AND they can usually tie their shoes). The other thing about Second Grade is that every February pretty much every teacher talks about penguins. Were it not for this exposure…
I silently knock on the Kindergarten door, helper for the day in my Assistant Teacher role. I love Kindergarten. I did my student teaching there—sang a LOT of songs and played games and sat on the floor and learned words. Today is one of those days—a learning day—except I am the student. I teach in a very…
I had the surprise privilege of teaching a short (four week) Summer School gig for a friend recently–and I do mean privilege. He asked if I could take over his Reading classes at a private Korean Academy. After thanking God for the answer to prayer for meeting a financial need, I then got VERY happy…
C. is after her purse in the back corner cabinet of the classroom. She’s got just a minute to reach for something and turns her head to answer a question, her back to the cupboard. Out comes a cascade of bloodshot eyeball ping pong balls, tumbling to the floor…..oh, it’s just another day in Room…
“That’s a deep subject,” I’d oft repeat, to chide the speaker for such a lame, one-word comment. Well, indeed. I’m in it at the bottom, Swimming in my own tears drowning in grief that I must haul up bucket by bucket. But the hauling is needful– the bucket-at-a time tending a necessary process. The grief…
I’m awake behind closed eyes noting the whooshing sounds of far away freeway noise (at 2 in the morning? seriously?) and a howling, train-whistly cry rises in the distance through my open night window. The coyotes are stirring, too. The Psalmist David writes of being awake through the watches of the night and I wonder…
Classroom photo, mine. 2012 “Recess teacher!!” That would be me and anyone else over 3 feet tall who has a whistle. “Hey guys, just so you know, my name’s Mrs. Collins”, flashing my cartoon-y fish logo with my fancy-ish name. “What’re your names?” “I’m Atticus, this is Zeppelin.” “Well, those are some pretty big names,” I…