Dichoto-Me…

Earthy                                            Spirit
Down and Dirty In the mud          Intuitive Visions
Rough around the Edges              Soothing variations of light
Momma in combat boots              Everywhere and Nowhere…
Warm dark richness                    Time-lapsed skies
Nurtured hope                              Dimensional Rivers
Healing Rain                                   Everywhere and Nowhere…
Warrior                                          Just Feel
Peacemaker                                    Just Flow
Goddess                                         Just Be
                  One Heartbeat….                        
                                    One Breath…                          
                                      Together in me….

Escape…

Anger and fear
Fear and hate
Imprisoned Within
Cowered in the corner
No hope of escape
No trust
So much anger
So much fear
A family drowning
In its pain
Slave mentality
In generational sorrow
Chained to the past

Hope lies in another vision
The window
In Plato's cave
Possibilities
In light
Hands reaching
lifting up
The way out
In new beginnings
True faith lies
In the goodness
Of others...

Escape…

Sunday Mornings….

I love Sunday mornings. I can't quite put my finger on why, but to me, they are more special than any other. As a child, Sunday mornings were just different. Maybe it's because I was born on a Sunday morning. Maybe it's because my dad was home and the family was whole. Things just seemed calmer, less chaotic. The world just seemed to stop.

Sunday mornings were about sleeping in with fresh coffee percolating, its aroma wafting thru the house to rouse my sleeping parents from their beds. Sunday mornings were sizzling bacon, the sweet smell of pancakes and the sound of football announcers droning in the background. When I was really little, I would snuggle up with my dad in his recliner as he perused the Sunday paper. When I was older, I would make proudly make him a cup of coffee and lay on the floor at his feet perusing the funnies. I always got the funnies. The Peanuts were my favorite.  It was our time together. I had always been a 'Daddy's' girl. Of course, I was also born on Father's Day. Maybe that was part of it. Whatever the reason, I always felt blissfully content on Sunday mornings.

As I grew up, things changed, as they are apt to do. Nothing lasts forever. My parents divorced. No more Sunday brunches, time with my dad. I was no longer a child. I started working. My Sunday mornings were now spent serving other people coffee. The only Sunday papers I saw were those I threw away when I cleared the tables.

I married, had a child, started teaching and Sunday mornings were mine again. Coffee now hissed through an expresso machine, turkey bacon sizzled and the sweet smell of pancakes wafted through the air as the TV droned on in the background. When my son was little we cuddled on the couch and watched Crocadile Hunter and anime. As he grew older, he lay on the floor drawing. We went to breakfast at Ihop and played tic-tac-toe as we waited for our order. It was time spent with my son. It was our time together.  I was again content.

Things again changed as they are apt to do. Nothing lasts forever. I got divorced. My son grew up and moved out on his own.  Sunday mornings now belong to me alone. They are still about sleeping in, the aroma of coffee, sizzling bacon, the sweet smell of pancakes, but now, it's time to myself. I am content. I have always loved Sunday mornings. I still can't quite put my finger on why, but they are more special than any other. Sundays were always different. Maybe it's because I was born on a Sunday morning. Maybe it's because I am home, I am whole.

for Berenice...

 

Floating on Forever

She lies
In the liminal

Between Life

and Death ...
Final breaths

Flowing to places

Unseen
Beyond all existence
Beyond our knowing
And so she passes
Into time
Swirling
Kisses floating
On breezes
Caress those
Left behind
A gentle passing
Of a gentle soul
The child reborn
Dances once more
On sunbeams...

                                                              

Rising Storm

Storm clouds
forming
slowly raging
thunder...
boiling
turbulence of wind
threatening
to rip apart
a fragile calm
into chaos
of emotional
turmoil
lightning
and uncertainty
building
building
until explodes
in sweet release
of gentle rain
and tears....

To Live in the Moment...

To simply exist

Apart from the noise that fills my brain

Mesmerized

Watching dust particles

dance on sunbeams

like fireflies

on a beautiful afternoon.

Totally at peace

Wrapped in the warmth of the sun,

fall breezes caressing...

pulling fingers through my hair,
a gentle lover...

More than ABC’s

Why I Teach….

As of late, Education had become a major political football and the yelling so loud that all sense and reason is lost in the noise of angry finger pointing and blame. It really is quite disheartening. As the debate turns on test scores, standards, accountability and failure, budget cuts, unions, and attacks on already low pay, I am often asked why I teach. My reasons are expressed in oft handed notes left in my mailbox or on my desk. Sometimes they come randomly in emails, sometimes a Facebook post years later.

"Thank you for all the help and advice you have given me. Even though I was hard headed and never really did anything in your class (sorry!) You still tried to help and didn't give up on me. You are the only teacher who tried to help me no matter how dumb I would act."

"Most teachers would have just kicked me out of class or wrote me up if I did something wrong, but you were different. That's why I am so much different now. You taught me how to show respect…."

"You have made me realize so much stuff!! First, I would like to thank you for having so much faith in me. I knew I could do it. I just had to try. Second, I thank you for telling me I am a leader. You made me think and now I know I am a leader. I love to lead, not follow and I know you are the same way too. You lead me in the right path and I thank you so much for that. "

"I just wanted to thank you for encouraging me and my poetry. Because of the non-stop essays, I passed proficiency. Your advice and pushing me forward has gotten me far and gave me strength to believe in myself."

They are the lessons that will be remembered long after all others are forgotten. Amidst all the noise, it is these 'voices' that keep me grounded. While the focus is on content and test scores, these notes focus on what really matters. I don't catch them all, but I catch the ones I am supposed to. Whenever I start to lose my way, get caught up in all the negativity and begin to question myself, it is the kids who bring me back, years even decades later. The following student explained it so much more eloquently than I ever could.

"I pray this letter finds you and your family doing well. I want you to know there is not one day that I do not remember your compassion and beauty. I have written several papers that encompass your depth, warmth, and intelligence. All of which existed as my saving grace in 1993. That (your) effect, has permeated into not only every part of my soul but also my ambitions. I can say, with sincere intention, that everyone who knows me, Jackie, also knows a wonderful portion of you because you helped me discover myself and my worth.

Well where do I begin? I graduated w/honors with my Bachelors in English Language Arts. Currently, I am student teaching at a rural area 3A high school. I have worked in several school districts over the last four years- some very low socio-economic areal – others very affluent. I have learned- with no real surprise- that teenagers are the same all over. They all exist in a state of mind that is so sensitive and perceptive- they watch, they listen, they learn, they love, and the morals and characteristics I exemplify become their foundation. I have the blessing of exerting influence on these fresh, wonderfully made minds, hearts and souls – and I know in a nonverbal or verbal "second" I can make or break their prescious spirits. I will and do choose to keep it real (like you used to say) so these young adults can see that life is more than what a TV commercial says you should have or what 'they' consider 'right'.

My experiences in life, good and bad were all valuable – and teachers helped me know and believe this. Teachers like you and my dad and my maker took/take time for me and my development – as a 'human being, not a human doing" (quote from my self-esteem folder –your class-) I pray I can touch lives like you touched mine!"

Sincerely, Jackie

I knew this young woman in 1993 as a sixth grader, my first year teaching. We just sat and talked about life and poetry. She gave me a book of her poetry, which I still have. Out of nowhere, I received this letter in 2008 when I was having a hard time and questioning. You never know, who or how you touch someone, it's just nice to know that you do. Sometimes, they touch you back. 

Author’s Note:  Last year (2016) I was again questioning why anyone would do this job.   That night, out of the blue, this same young woman forwarded me a letter her student had sent her.  It was almost identical to the one she had sent me years before...

“Hello!  This is Jackie.  I wanted to share a letter with you.   When I read it, I was immediately taken back to the 6^th grade with you.  I did for her what you did for me and the beat goes on and the circle is not broken…”

She’d paid it forward…

Despite the all district directives, legislative mandates and political discourse,

what we do really does matter.  It is our ‘Legacy’…

Have a great summer!