These last few weeks at school have been pretty busy and stressful. With quarter grades due on Sunday, parent conferences next week, and Fall Break so close but oh-so-far, it was difficult to convince myself to go to the Arizona English Teachers Association conference this weekend, even though it was free (paid for by CAWP! Yay!). On Friday afternoon, I had to stay late at school and was so exhausted that I couldn't make it to any of the sessions and decided just to go home and rest. But I managed to talk myself (guilt myself?) into making the drive this morning, and I'm really glad I went. Funnily enough for a person who loves being in school as much as I do, it was a good reminder that sometimes I need to take a break from being a teacher and just be a student for a while.
Learned lots, had time to catch up with some CAWP people, and picked up the names of some cool resources and ideas I can take back with me.
Also, I made this:
and scored some teacher swag (i.e., books):
Not bad for six hours on a Saturday. Yay conferences!
What you want is practice, practice, practice. It doesn’t matter what we we write, so long as we write continually as well as we can. I feel that every time I write a page with real effort, even if it’s thrown into the fire next minute, I am so much further on. - C.S. Lewis
Sunday, September 29, 2013
Saturday, September 14, 2013
They Come To Me
THEY COME TO ME: A BACK-TO-SCHOOL POEM
They come to me at the sweaty, red-hot tail end of summer
with curious, sunburned faces
and back-to-school haircuts just a little too short.
They come to me sporting backpacks in clean, bright rainbow hues (no Sharpie graffiti yet),
glossy shoes that squeak down linoleum-tiled hallways,
and uniforms with the newness still creased into them.
They come to me with new packs of lined paper
--the crinkle of clear plastic wrapping, the scent of fresh stationery--
with mechanical pencils, five to a package,
and 3-ring notebooks, see-through covers waiting to be cluttered
with photos and ticket stubs and illicit notes passed quietly during boring lectures.
They come to me with forms--
forms for the nurse
forms for the office
forms for the cafeteria
forms for the bus.
(School is all about forms.)
They come to me with test scores, with GPAs, with transcripts, with all sorts of records--official and not.
They come to me with expectations, with goals, with preconceptions, with dreams.
They come to me with questions--
"When is lunch?"
"Can we listen to music in here?"
"Do we have assigned seats?"
"How do I try out for football?"
"Is high school as hard as they say it is?"
They come to me with ideas--lots of ideas.
Ideas to start a club
Or rebuild their community
Or spark a revolution.
Ideas to change the world.
They come to me and I watch.
They come to me and I listen.
They come to me and I marvel.
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