Who is your favorite literary hero or heroine? Why?
Tag Archives: teacher
In my last post, I wrote four of the twelve lines regarding a teacher’s classroom experience by Author Unknown titled, “I Didn’t Know”. Here are the next four lines, and tomorrow I’ll post the final four lines.
“I didn’t know that I would become such a scavenger, and that teaching materials would feel like pure gold in my hands…
I didn’t know that an administration and co-workers that support and help you could make such a difference…
I didn’t know that there would be children that I loved and cared for and stayed up late worrying about, who, one day, would simply not show up. And that I would never see them again…
I didn’t know that I can’t always dry little tears and mend broken hearts. I thought I could always make a difference…”
The author is unknown, but a teacher intern I observed last night gave me 12 comments titled “I Didn’t Know”. They resonated with me since I was a classroom teacher for more than twenty-five years. I’ll post four at a time.
I didn’t know that years of school and a college degree would be of little consolation when facing a room full of bright little eyes on the first day of school. I thought I was ready…
I didn’t know that five minutes can seem like five hours when there is idle time and an eight hour school day far too short for a well-planned day of teaching…
I didn’t know that teaching children was only a fraction of my job. No one tells you about the conferences and phone calls, faculty meetings and committees, paperwork and paperwork…
I didn’t know that it took so long to cut out letters, draw and color pictures, laminate-all for those bulletin boards that were always “just there”…
As the writer continues, the love comes through. Next time have a box of tissues handy.
Here is the Iambic Group Poem, Glen Meisenheimer guided us to produce at the Poetry Workshop last week. There were 12 participants, but we forgot to title it. Any suggestions?
The time she waits on none who tarry long
Instead she dances t’wards her scheduled end.
Ignoring worries; seeking pleasure’s song,
She hopes to make the day a lasting friend.
The other side of time we know is death.
She nudges us along to paths not sought.
Although we fight for every passing breath,
The end will come to all no matter what.
“Plot is no more than footprints left in the snow after your characters have run by on their way to incredible destinations.”
I met with Stacey Gustafson this week to decide the three student writer contest winners in the California Tri-Valley Writers Club competition. We had 29 entries. It was easy to find the seven top stories but hard to put them in order for first, second, their place plus the four honorable mentions. We did it in about an hour. Good teamwork.