Wisdom Waits

Wisdom comes in times of quiet and solitude,

resting quietly beside me,

nudging me forward.

Driving moments, shower moments, blogging moments--

those times when wisdom beckons, 

and I press inward, 

Write with us at Two Writing Teachers.

and see my internal reflection

with all its inadequacies

and wonder who I am, 

who I am becoming,

and who I haven't become. 

Cynicism and Impatience,

my manipulative friends,

molding me into someone

who I don't want to become,

I am disfigured--

expecting too much from some,

not giving enough to others.

Losing focus of what's important,

not meeting people where they are,

and struggling to love my neighbors, 

both young and grown.

Empathy and Compassion beckon me.

Wisdom waits.

In my moment of solitude,

I am alone and disfigured,

pressing inward and

looking on.

A Friend Beyond Words

When we first met, she told me we would always be friends— 

even if it didn’t work out between her son and me.

I left her son two months before the wedding—

still she remained my friend.

I went back to school to become a teacher—

she paid my tuition, 

telling me she wanted to see me become 

the great teacher she knew I could become—
only asking I one day do the same for someone else.

She met the man I would marry—

she told me she could see why I waited for so long.

She welcomed my children—

calling herself Granny Anni.

Exhausted from trips to doctor, my dad dying of cancer—

like one of my family, she took him to doctors’ appointments,

giving us a rest in a time of need.

When Dad died—

she came with goodbye balloons for the kids to release into the air—
notes on strings, a tangible and personal goodbye for each grandkid.

A heart shoved aside, an aortic aneurysm, 

three more surgeries to brave—

she presses on with strength and fortitude.

Her family and friends watch in amazement—

as strong as ever, physically and mentally—

her new nickname—

Hurricane Anni, she is on the move—

strong, stubborn, and steadfast.

Keep my friend, Anni in your prayers as tomorrow she faces her second open heart surgery. Pray that the surgery goes well and that she is able to paint again one day soon.

Anni Painting

                                                                 

Sock Sestina

A Slice of Life with Two Writing Teachers

Each week we blog as teacher writers.  

A Sock Sestina

Enveloped in comfort,
A blanket for my feet
With coziness of toes.
My fuzzy socks
put me in a happy mood,
cozy and off work.

Uncomfortable at work
Socks falling down, feeling dis-comfort.
I am in a miserable mood
with socks scrunched up at my feet.
I'm throwing these socks away
as a favor to my toes.

Why should I separate my toes?
With socks that are too much work
Toes should should be one in their socks.
Toes divided--that is not comfort
for your feet
Toe socks, in my world, you have no place.

Striped, patterned and colorful socks you enliven my mood,
Elaborate detail to my  toes,
and happiness on my feet,
Having fun at work,
This is a sort of comfort
with whimsy of my socks.

A hole in my favorite socks,
Can't find a replacement any place,
Cold and without comfort,
Nothing to cover my toes,
I think I'll stay home from work,
And put a blanket over my feet.

Socks with sandals on your feet,
Have you no dignity for your socks?
Maybe you're retired and no longer work,
To speak of this is not my place,
Be proud of your ugly toes,
and enjoy the breeze of comfort.

Feet have their special place,
with happy toes housed in socks,
knowing comfort even at work.

relaxing in my fuzzy socks

Evolution of Wishes

I wished I could be her,
a black woman teacher,
just for a day.
When I said that, she chuckled and said,
"Oh Maya, you would love it."
At the time, I knew she was right.
To be her would have given me
the attitude of a loving mom
who cares, who shares,
who doesn't take junk,
who demands the best.


Now my wish is different.
I wish I could share
some of what I have with others...
I have an energy that is contagious,
passion for what I do.
I have fun interacting, teaching, and learning.
working hard to engage, inspire, and reach.
As a student told me last week,
I am persistent--finding new ways for them to "get" it,
never giving up.

Last year, I  joked saying we would watch paint dry,
when asked what we were doing tomorrow.
A student gave an excited, "REALLY??!!"
Energy and passion are contagious--
and need to be spread up and down
the halls of our schools.

To help others
be present,
passionate,
excited,
persistent,
loving,
humorous,
witty,
intellectual,
inquisitive,
inspiring,
and to be willing to say,
"I don't know. Let's find out."

I might miss a detail,
get lost in a moment,
talk too quickly,
get behind on some things,
accumulate clutter,
forget to follow up,
but I am who I am
becoming comfortable in my own shoes,
filling them out.

Today a friend said to me,
"You have fun. I need to have more fun."
And now my wish is no longer
for me but for her.
Not for her to be me,
though she might enjoy it for a day,
but to find who she needs to be
comfortable in her own shoes,
as she discovers what ignites her passion
and fills her own shoes.

Stop Now

After stopping by my blog on too many a grading evening, I just toppled over. Well, I put my head down on my desk while I tried to regain my strength. I stood up to get a paper for a student and saw compassion and concern in the eyes of the 6th graders. Then, someone from the back said, "Mrs. Woodall, you need to go home." I mean too many late nights and early mornings, and I nearly fell out in class.

My husband tells me I should sleep more. My coworkers tell me I should sleep more. My students tell me I should sleep more. Until my body just stops, I keep pushing myself and don't listen to any of the people who can see what I'm doing to myself.

When I made it to the doctor, he tested me for strep, the flu, and pneumonia. All came back negative. I think my body was just resounding an emphatic, "Stop now!"

That was last Tuesday, so needless to say, I didn't make it through the school day, I hardly made it to the doctor, I didn't blog, I didn't make it my conferences--all I did was crash and burn.

Now I'm back. I have been up since 4:30 AM, and it is now 11:05. I have nothing of literary merit to write. I just am writing to say. "Here I am. Now I'm going to bed."

Thanks for making me write, even when it's not much. You Slicers are an awesome group.

Goodnight. I must stop now.

Stopping by My Blog on a Grading Evening

      With my sincerest apologies to Robert Frost for what I've done to his snowy woods.

This stack of papers here they grow

Using  this rubric sure is slow

Cannot sleep, disturbing the flow

Grades due so soon, oh no.

I’d like to end my grading here   

And let this assessment just go.

You must think my assessment queer

To grade until morning is near.

I’ve had all of this Common Core rubric I can take

The grades are not too good I fear.

I reassess and give my head a shake

And ask if this grade is a mistake.   

The only sound’s the  pen’s sweep   

Common Core writing is not cake.

Some with analysis so deep.   

Yet so many more still to reach,  

And papers to go before I re-teach,   

And papers to go before I re-teach.

Around the Dial

My favorite local FM station is shutting down, becoming sports' talk radio. Just what we need more talk radio. Here is my poem for Dave FM. I will miss them.

Radio tunes to iTunes,
Pandora's box opened--
Sirius-ly,
I should have Spotified
the waves of change.
FM now XM,
Around
and 
Around
the dial,
I find nothing.