March SOLC – Day 11

A huge thank you to  Anna, Beth, Betsy, Deb, Kathleen, Lisa, Lanny, Melanie, and Stacey for all that they do to create a supportive community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write, learn, share and grow.
twowritingteachers.org

It’s a beautiful day with brilliant blue skies–the kind of day that lures you outside to play. Unfortunately, it only takes one step out the door to remind me that winter is still firmly entrenched here. It’s so cold that it hurts! A quick look at the thermometer confirms my diagnosis of an unreasonably cold temperature. At 9 am the temperature is hovering at 4 degrees and with a brisk breeze, the wind chill must be well into the negative digits. Our planned walk doesn’t sound like quite so much fun now. Were we really at the beach a week or so ago?

It’s time to move on to Plan B. “Does anyone want to go with me to the farmer’s market?” I ask my husband and daughter. After hesitating and  glancing at the thermometer again (and again) and debating for a few minutes, they finally agree to go. We layer up and move on out.

Within 20 minutes or so, we’re walking into the warmth of the market. It’s an oasis on this frigid day. A duo plays violin in the corner and a happy babble of voices fills the large hall. There are baked goods, preserves, clothing, cheeses, crafts, seafood, meats, and all sorts of tantalizing prepared foods. Vegetables fill woven baskets and spill in rainbows on coarse wooden tables and the scent of coffee and freshly baked bread fills the air. We wander through the aisles, absorbing the colors, smells and sounds. We pick out some kale to add to tonight’s lentil soup and choose a rustic flour-dusted loaf of bread. Then we wander over to the far side of the market, where my favorite everything bagels are. Today I’m in luck and they also have plump golden brown bialys with glistening oniony centers. Who can resist those? After purchasing a few of each, we’re finally ready to leave. Thankful for the brief reprieve, we leave the warmth and color of the market behind and head back into the bitter cold.

I started reading Wendell Berry’s poem, “How to be a Poet (to remind myself)” because the title grabbed me. I mean, I can always use some tips on how to be a poet and would welcome any advice from Mr. Berry!  His initial words (and his wonderful matter-of-fact reading of them in the video clip) reminded me once again of the importance of just showing up to do the work. (Really, how many times do I need this reminder?! “Make a place to sit down./Sit down. Be quiet.”) Berry also reminds me how important and powerful it is to actively clear a space in my whirring mind and busy life–to  pay attention, to clear away the distractions and to listen to the silence and my own inner voice. (“stay away from screens/Stay away from anything/ that obscures the place it is in”)

And then these wonderful final lines…

“make a poem that does not disturb
the silence from which it came.”

How to Be a Poet (To Remind Myself)
…

iii

Accept what comes from silence.
Make the best you can of it.
Of the little words that come
out of the silence, like prayers
prayed back to the one who prays,
make a poem that does not disturb
the silence from which it came.

I chose to share the final stanza of his poem, but encourage you to click on the title to read it in its entirety. If you’d prefer to listen to Wendell Berry reading this poem, click the link below. You can also treat yourself and do both!

To read other poetry, please go to Today’s Little Ditty , Michelle H. Barnes’ most wonderful blog. Not only can you access other poems for this week’s Poetry Friday Roundup there, you can also read her wonderful interviews and find information about her monthly challenges. What are you waiting for?  Click on the link!

March SOLC–Day 9

A huge thank you to  Anna, Beth, Betsy, Deb, Kathleen, Lisa, Lanny, Melanie, and Stacey for all that they do to create a supportive community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write, learn, share and grow.
twowritingteachers.org

I feel very fortunate to work in a K-8 school that truly values school climate. We’ve done a lot of work to create a caring, supportive, safe environment for students, and we’ve even extended this work to address bus communities with the Peaceful Bus program. Three times a year bus groups gather and older students partner up with younger students. The bus groups work in these partnerships to identify ongoing issues and possible solutions, participate in team building activities,and work on building their bus community.  It’s heart warming to hear the coaching that goes on and the gentle, kind ways that the older students support their younger partners.

Yesterday’s Peaceful Bus meeting was run by the middle school students as part of our Anti-Bullying Week activities. First, partners worked on answering a series of questions about bullying. Kids chatted and wrote together. “Would it be a adult or an adult?” a sixth grader asked me as I wandered by. I referred him to his second grade partner who, when he asked, correctly suggested, “An adult.”

I overheard an 8th grade boy softly encouraging his Kindergarten partner, “That’s a great strategy. Can you think of another one?”

After this, students were asked to  write down a compliment for their partner. Here are a few of them for you to enjoy:

“You have really pretty hair!”

“You are caring about other people.”

“You’re awesome and nice.”

“I like your boots.”

“You are smart. You are tall.”

“You’re a good friend.”

“I like your shirt and you have good handwriting.

“You stand up for people.”

“I like your shoes. I like your eyes. I think you’re really nice. Have a nice day!”

“You make me feel happy and safe.”

Our last Peaceful Bus meeting of the school year concluded shortly after this activity and I walked back to my classroom. Once again I was reminded of why I love working in a K-8 school and especially in this particular school. Building community isn’t just paid lip service, it’s something we work on consciously and consistently. So, to borrow a few lines from student compliments, to my co-workers and my students I say, “Thanks! You are caring about other people! You make me feel happy and safe!”

March SOLC–Day 8
A huge thank you to  Anna, Beth, Betsy, Deb, Kathleen, Lisa, Lanny, Melanie, and Stacey for all that they do to create a supportive community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write, learn, share and grow.
twowritingteachers.org

“What should I write about today?”

This is a question I ask myself a lot during the March SOLC. I also ask my family–over and over again. These days they tend to treat the question as rhetorical in nature. Ironically, last night my husband actually responded.

“Insomnia,” he suggested.

“Oh, yeah, Mom,” one of my oh-so-sympathetic daughters responded, “You’d definitely have lots to write about!”

So, I’m not sure what time it was when I woke up this morning. Probably sometime between 1:00 and 1:30 am. I’ve learned not to look at the clock in the middle of the night, as somehow not knowing what time it is can sometimes help me to fall back asleep. I guess I avoid the immediate calculations about how little sleep I got, how much more time I have to sleep, etc. That wasn’t the case tonight, though. I lay there with my thoughts jumping restlessly (manically?) from one thing to another.

When am I going to score those Expert Books?How do I respond to that e-mail? Is A really doing okay? I need to talk to H about that possible referral. Maybe I can catch her later today. Shoot! I haven’t called my Dad in over a week. Who in the world called me yesterday from Raleigh, NC? I need to pull out those poetry books today. Is it really only Wednesday today? Taxes!! I wonder how these book clubs are going to work? I’m worried about P and D’s partnership. Will they be able to work together? The heat bill is due soon (almost overdue?)–I’ve got to put a check in the mail tomorrow. Oh, no! I still have that stack of math journals that needs to go home. I really need to get those out today!  What’s up with C? Taxes!!! Report cards are due in just a few weeks! I should really write a couple of comments each night to avoid that last minute crush. Yeah, right. Oh–I have to send out the parent teacher conference notices. What’s that program called again? I need to find those science scores. Where did I put them? I have a bad feeling I moved them to keep them safe. But to where? What is going on at K’s house? How can I help her?……..and on and on and on. You get the idea. Somehow it isn’t the happy little relaxing thoughts that pop into my mind in these wee hours.

So, finally, after maybe 45 minutes or an hour, I gave up and looked at the clock. 2:11 am. I sighed, pushed back the covers, and got up. Grabbing my book off the bed (yes, I sleep with my books), I turned off my underworked alarm clock, and stumbled out of the bedroom. My newest insomnia-combatting strategy is to read in the living room and then try to fall back asleep on the couch for an hour or so before it’s time to get up. We’ll see how that works.

March SOLC–Day 7
A huge thank you to  Anna, Beth, Betsy, Deb, Kathleen, Lisa, Lanny, Melanie, and Stacey for all that they do to create a supportive community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write, learn, share and grow.
twowritingteachers.org

I often write about how much I enjoy the natural beauty of Maine and my ride to work. My commute is about 25 minutes through the rolling countryside and a couple of small towns of the blink-and-miss-them variety.  I’m especially alert these days for anything that might serve as a seed for a slice. I keep my eyes peeled.

This past Friday as I drove to work, my attentiveness paid off! This bald eagle was perched in a tree directly by the side of the road. It’s not at all unusual to see eagles around here, but they are usually flying high overhead. This one was content to linger at his perch as I snapped picture after picture, marveling at his impressive size, his piercing eyes, his hooked beak. After about 10  minutes, I finally pulled away, feeling thankful again for the beauty that surrounds me.What a great start to the day! 

FYI: I was inspired to do a bit of research (because, hey! I’m a teacher!). Here are some interesting facts I discovered:

• In 1930 a Popular Science article stated that unless drastic measures were taken, it was likely that bald eagles might only be seen in the future on coins.
• Pesticides, habitat destruction and hunting accounted for most of the population decline.
• By the 1970s there were under 30 nesting pairs of bald eagles in Maine. In 2017 there are over 500 nesting pairs!
• This resurgence in eagle population has a downside as it negatively impacts efforts to preserve other bird species such as loons and cormorants.
• Eagle nests are 4-6 feet wide and may weigh up to 1,000 pounds.
• Mature bald eagles have a wingspan of 5 1/2- 8 feet.
• They can live 15-25 years in the wild.

• The bald eagle is the only eagle unique to North America.

March SOLC–Day 6
A huge thank you to  Anna, Beth, Betsy, Deb, Kathleen, Lisa, Lanny, Melanie, and Stacey for all that they do to create a supportive community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write, learn, share and grow.
twowritingteachers.org

Yesterday morning I had a silent but stern talk with myself before getting out of bed.

Ok, Molly, you are going to get your coffee. You have 15 minutes to check e-mail and then you have got to start working. No excuses!

Everything started out great. I got up, turned on the coffee machine, fed the cats and opened up my computer. I was motivated to get some serious work done!  Then I made a rookie mistake: I looked outside and saw the sunrise glowing through the trees.

Oh! I should head down to the bay, check out the sunrise and take some pictures.

I didn’t even stop to shut my computer. I threw on my jeans and coat, poured my coffee into a travel mug and jumped in the car. I acted like a dog when someone shouts “Squirrel!” Within 5 minutes of the thought occurring to me, I was down at the bay.

The colors were fading a bit when I arrived, but it was still quite lovely. Stepping out of the car, I gasped. In my rush to get down there, I hadn’t realized how brutally cold it was outside.  The car temperature recorded 6 degrees, but the wind was doing its best to drive that number down. Way down! I hunched into my jacket and threw a hat on my head. Determined to enjoy this morning moment, I wandered about for a short time, watching the fluctuating reds of the sunrise weave through the low-lying dark clouds. Ruched ice formed intriguing sculptures along the edges of the water and every so often the ice creaked and groaned with the tidal pull of the bay. My fingers began to ache horribly from the cold and I returned to the car, wondering if they were permanently damaged. After thawing them briefly in front of the heaters, I headed for home, pretending that I was virtuously choosing to cut short my “play” time because I needed to get back to work.

It was cold, cold, cold!

Back home, I refilled my coffee and settled in front of the computer. I spent my allotted time on e-mail and then started to map out plans for the coming week. Yay, me!

About fifteen minutes later, my daughter, home on spring break, came downstairs.

“Hey, Mom, do you want to do some yoga nidra?”

After the slightest hesitation, I responded, “Sure!”

And so it started and so it continued. I paved the road to hell all day long!

March SOLC–Day 5
A huge thank you to  Anna, Beth, Betsy, Deb, Kathleen, Lisa, Lanny, Melanie, and Stacey for all that they do to create a supportive community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write, learn, share and grow.
twowritingteachers.org

My daughter’s finished collage

Outside, the cold intensifies in the dark. It’s 6 degrees Fahrenheit. Dangerously cold.

Inside, the wood stove pulses out soft waves of heat. Drawn to its warmth, we gather around it, sprawling companionably, playing cards, collaging, and making music.

Outside, an aggressive wind pushes and pulls. Bang! The loose screen door slams against the house and a window rattles in its frame. The trees creak and moan as they bend and scrape against each other.

Inside, we chat idly, snapping cards down on the floor, snipping paper, strumming chords. Every so often the furnace clicks on and the radiators click and tick reassuringly. The washing machine hums softly in the background.

In a sudden flash of awareness, I recognize how precious this moment is.  I pause and try to memorize the details–to capture this small moment in time so that I can fully appreciate it now and treasure it later. This rare moment when two of our three children are at home and the four of us sit inside together, gathered in one room. This quiet time of warmth and companionship to hold close when outside the world is bitter cold and inhospitable. An oasis of peace in the midst of turmoil.

March SOLC–Day 4
A huge thank you to  Anna, Beth, Betsy, Deb, Kathleen, Lisa, Lanny, Melanie, and Stacey for all that they do to create a supportive community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write, learn, share and grow.
twowritingteachers.org

Elementary school students are generous and teachers receive many spontaneous and unexpected gifts, from hand-drawn pictures, heartfelt notes and hugs to a well-traveled hard boiled egg swimming in juice in a leaking plastic bag. Once I had a first grade student very seriously present me with a small spring from inside a pen. “You can hang it on your wall,” he suggested. More recently, it took me awhile to figure out that one of my fourth graders was offering me a gift.

I was walking with my  class down the hallway to Library and she chatted away at my side. My attention was distracted by some antics toward the end of the line and I returned my focus in time to hear her say, “So, do you want it, Mrs. Hogan?”

“What?” I asked, at a total loss.

“The sweater, ” she said. Sweater?  I must have looked confused, and she attempted to clarify. “Do you remember that jacket you wore when I read to you yesterday?” she asked.

“Um, maybe,” I said. Jacket, what jacket? I don’t wear jackets. 

 “You know, it was kind of brown and it was soft,” she continued. “It’s kind of like that.” What was she talking about? Do I have a brown jacket? What’s like that?

She looked up at me and asked, “So, will you keep it if I bring it in for you? It’s green.”

I was silent for a moment, thinking furiously, trying to piece a few of these comments together. Do I want it? Sweater? Keep it? Suddenly, I realized what she was talking about. She wanted to bring a sweater from home for me. How generous! How sweet! But what should I say? I certainly couldn’t accept a sweater as a gift!

“Oh, K,” I said, fumbling for words, “That’s so generous of you. You need to keep your sweater though. Someday you might want it for yourself.”

“Oh, no.” she said casually, flipping her long hair over her shoulder, “It’s okay. I don’t like it.”

Ouch!

March SOLC–Day 3

Recent news about the vandalism in the historic Jewish cemetery, Chesed Shel Emeth, in St. Louis, Missouri made me terribly sad. I struggled with this poem and still question whether I should include the third verse or end after the second.

Stones

Once, long ago, a friend told me
that in the Jewish faith
some mourners leave stones
at the graves of their loved ones,
not delicate blossoms
fated to fade and decay
“The stones will endure,” she said.
I understood the allure of the solidity
of granite, quartz and crystal
in the quagmire of grief.
I imagined the healing process
of selecting a rock, one special rock,
for a texture, a color, a shape
or a memory
then gently placing it atop a gravestone
an enduring message of love and
connection

Yesterday I read about vandalism.
In a Jewish cemetery far across the country
someone toppled and heaved headstones,
desecrating with orchestrated hate
I imagined those carefully selected small stones,
tumbling in small percussive bursts
from the top of the disturbed monuments
then rolling along the ground
to rest in mute accusation
at the feet of the vandals
Messages of love unmoored

I yearn to travel to that cemetery and
gather the scattered stones and pebbles
I want to hold them tightly cupped in my hand
until they warm and I can feel my pulse
beating in their core
until I can set them one by one
upon newly straightened tombstones,
imbue them with serenity
and with deepest apology
for the mindless hatred
that disturbed this sacred place.
Each stone a whisper and a wish
Rest in peace.

Molly Hogan (c) 2017

Photo from http://www.myjewishlearning.com/article/putting-stones-on-jewish-graves/

This week’s Poetry Friday Roundup is hosted by the amazing Heidi Mordhorst at her blog, My Juicy Little Universe. Click on the link to enjoy some more poetry!

March SOLC–Day 2
A huge thank you to  Anna, Beth, Betsy, Deb, Kathleen, Lisa, Lanny, Melanie, and Stacey for all that they do to create an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write, learn, share and grow.

On Tuesday I stole some time. My daughter was home for a few days, taking an unexpected, much needed break from the stresses and strains of her final semester in college. As the mercury rose to an impressive high (48 in February!), she suggested a trip to the beach.

After a winding drive up the coast and down the peninsula, we parked in the empty lot near the old fort at the far end of the beach. Not a soul was in sight. As we got out of the car, we were greeted by the raucous cries of a gull on the edge of a stone parapet and the rush and tumble sound of the crashing surf.  On the beach the tide was high and we set out along the exposed strip of sand, careful to avoid the encroaching waves. Sometimes we talked, but not about anything important, and sometimes we were silent. Sometimes we walked side by side, and sometimes one of us moved ahead or dropped behind. Mostly, we lost ourselves in the beauty of the beach. It was a chance to find bubbles on a leaf, clouds in a pool of water, striated sky and sun beams. It was a chance to be together. A chance to find serenity.

We walked on the beach for an hour or two and then headed home, tired and more relaxed than when we’d arrived. I hope and pray that she and I can carry our beach time with us and tap into it when days seem overpacked with obligations and life seems overwhelming. I hope that we can close our eyes and remember the salty wind on our cheeks, the call of the gulls, the rush and roar of waves and our stolen moment of time–together on a beach in Maine on a February day.

(Photo credit to my daughter)