Freedom Writers

Last night I watched Freedom Writers for the first time with Kylee, Stephanie, and Kayla. I think I liked it a lot. It made me feel as though teaching can be whatever I make it, almost. Mrs. Gruwell, for example, decided to stick with the students she had and then work with them to create programs for other students. I didn't like that her husband left her. Not cool.

Perks

OH. Mike, Jon, and Zach called on their way to Gatlinburg and I loved it.

Kylee invited me to eat with her, the math majors, and Chris. SO good to see other student teachers. Then we Starbucks...ed.

God is faithful

I was very disheartened after yesterday, but today yielded God's favor. I briefly wrote about it on my small group's blog, here.

:/

Very good day prepping for teaching tomorrow. I'm kind of exhausted, however.

In high school

Mrs. V: We didn't do bell work yesterday because of the drug survey.

Student 1: Yay!

Student 2: I love drugs.

Student 1: I love surveys.

Mrs. V: All needs were met by that activity.

Love is not moldy ANYTHING. Maybe like moldy old age because we've been in love for so long together. -10th grade boy

This is a dumb love poem. I could write better poetry than this. Love is a balloon that flies real high. See? Easy. -10th grade boy, talking about Carl Sandburg

Lenten bits

Out with the bad
I hate what faithless people do; 
   I will have no part in it. 
The perverse of heart shall be far from me; 
   I will have nothing to do with what is evil.


In with the good
My eyes will be on the faithful in the land, 
   that they may dwell with me; 
the one whose walk is blameless 
   will minister to me.

Read Psalm 101 and get into the Lenten spirit

 Rend your heart
   and not your garments.
Return to the LORD your God,
   for he is gracious and compassionate,
slow to anger and abounding in love,
   and he relents from sending calamity.
Who knows? He may turn and relent
   and leave behind a blessing—
grain offerings and drink offerings
   for the LORD your God.

Joel 2:13-14

a midnight not-poem snack

At 1 AM on three/one/twelve,

I stop grading oddly formatted papers

and decide to do dishes to have cookware to make macaroni and cheese.

Velveeta can stuff it. I use real cheddar and

scrape my bowl clean because 

I'm only hungry

when it's not time to eat and

I only want to write poetry

when it's not time to jot.

But I jot anyway, 

knowing late-night macaroni-ed thoughts

are only cheesy line breaks

oozing from a tired noodle.

True poems sprout best in sunlight.