August 23, 2012
image courtesy of frugalzealot.blogspot.com
This week I’m thankful for…
- a new school year
- my student teacher
- double stick tape
- freshly sharpened pencils
- the sound of my husband’s voice as I drift off to sleep
- parents who are already offering to volunteer in class and/or take tasks home to complete
- the firefighters working so diligently to put out the fires burning all around me
- my Ugandan children
August 21, 2012
Hello, dear friends. Lord have mercy, it’s been a long time since I’ve been here with you and I’ve missed you. The past few weeks have been filled with funerals, weddings and the beautiful frenzy known as Back to School.
Good, good things are happening and I’m dying to write about them and also to write more about my beloved Ugandan children.
But the thing that’s on my mind tonight as I stand tip-toe on the doorstep of a new school year is how ripe with possibility the new year always feels.
image courtesy of quick-growing-trees.com
Have you ever eaten a peach straight from the tree? Yes? Then you know the sensation of the flesh bursting with juice as it runs in warm rivulets down your chin, dripping onto your shirt. That’s the kind of ripe I’m talking about, the kind of ripe that only comes after months of effort from the loins of trees, the kind of ripe that gets all over you. The kind of ripe that is blissfully messy.
Year after year I find myself rippling with excitement on the eve of the first day of school. I barely sleep and I’m all a-twitter the morning of the first day. I never know what the first day might hold. I could be peed on. It’s happened before. I could be puked on. Also happened. My shoulder could be damp with tears. It’s happened, courtesy of students and parents. I could also receive drawings and love notes scratched out in blocky phonics. It happens every year. I could get hugged so many times that my arms ache. That happens every year, too. It’s a blissfully messy day.
Tomorrow when my little ones settle on the carpet and look up at me with beaming, hopeful faces, I’ll be thinking of ripe peaches. When I eat a peach, I don’t care about the mess or the stains on my shirt, I only care about the sweetness of the peach. Tomorrow may hold some surprises-the first day always does-but what I know for sure is that the day will be ripe with sweetness.
August 2, 2012
October 20th is the National Day on Writing. It seems a long way off, but as I prepare my classroom for a new group of young writers, there are two questions on my mind. Why do I write? And why do my students write? On October 20th, writers, educators, students and all kinds of other people across the nation will answer one very simple and simultaneously complex question:
Why do I write?
Here’s my answer.
- I write because words are like air, if I don’t inhale and exhale them, I will die.
- It’s fun.
- I love to laugh at myself and make others laugh along with me.
- I have the memory of a goldfish-writing helps me hold onto memories I don’t want to lose.
- Some stories are too painful to say out loud, but those stories find respite on pure white pages.
- I like the way words feel in my mouth.
- When writing, I can revise as many times as I want. When I talk, the words are just out there and can’t be polished once they’re free of my lips.
- Writing helps me make sense of things.
- Life is full of great stories waiting to be written.
Your turn. Be daring and brave and tell what it is that compels you to write.