I'm so lucky! Not only do I have a job I love, I am a half time librarian and a grade 7 langauge teacher where I get to run Readers' Workshop out of my library, but I have a family and community, home and profession that supports me. That's why today's post is special for me. It has only come about because of my husband who organized care for my children and my school which personally gave me a portion of the funds so I could come to the 8th Annual Boothbay Retreat in Maine, sponsored by Heinemann Publishing. I'm here to soak up knowledge and do some writing of my own! Yesterday morning at the Thinking-as-a-Writer session run by Linda Rief, (Yes, that Linda Rief!) I completed three QuickWrites and was sent off to find what surprised me. A couple of mine were on topics I usually touch on, but one surprised me. When I had the time, I continued writing. I do love that about writing and I try to tell my students about the phenomena. My hand seems to know more about what is going on in my head than my head does! My daughter just turned twelve last week and although I am proud of her and happy for her, I'm sad that growing up has to happen so quickly! Last night Naomi Shihab Nye, (Yes, that Naomi Shihab Nye! You can't believe how funny she is! You will believe how grounded, insightful and human she is.) said we should send our poetry out into the world, so I will, although it still needs much revising. Twelve
By Stefanie Cole Do you remember when it poured rain, causing shrieks, fears and questions about tornados? We went out, on the front porch, sheets of rain, a wall from the overfilled toughs flooding the base of the uneven sidewalk stones. A fast storm. In and out. Do you remember taking off you shoes and dancing deep in storm remnants Soaking wet, eyes glowing, no fear? That was being a mother You won’t remember the late nights, Rocking chair, lights off. You in my arms, Sweet smell, dark hair Rocking by the glow of the street light through the seasons Light changing from soft green to stark white, last leaf falling, then sparkles reflecting off of icy branches. That was being a mother. You will remember: Lunch in bags! Where’s your shoes? Screen time’s over! Not, just a minute! Use your utensils Must you? That is being a mother too. Sometimes eternally, Day in and day out. I know it’s coming, At one point, you won’t be able to look at me without cringing. Everything I do will be wrong, Embarrassing! How could you come from me? How could I possibly know your life? That, painfully, is also being a mother. I know we’ll argue, with laughter About the times when… I know you’ll remember wrong, saying it’s my memory that hasn’t got it right But we’ll both be wrong, And we’ll both be right. As we interpret out lives In the mirror of each other Forever, Your Mother
4 Comments
|
Categories
All
Who Am I?I'm a Teacher Librarian and Grade 7 Language Teacher. Many thanks to these forums which inspire, educate and promote collaboration & communication!
Archives
July 2016
|