I walked into my room
dropping bags to the floor
and shedding the vesture
of an assiduous day
when the yellow petals
grasped my gaze
and your loving gesture
grabbed my heart.

I have the most wonderful husband in the world, but he has never been accused of being a romantic. He has always been more practical than poetic, more playful than pensive. He knows sunflowers are my favorite. I came home from a long day in a long week and was caught off guard with the bouquet behind me.  I stared in stunned silence at those flowers and realized that he was thinking of me when he saw them, bought them, brought them home, placed them in water, and set them upon my bureau. Each step was an act of love that will continue to  ‘blossom’ long after each petal fades.

The stone
you exported
from the far side
of the earth,
carrying the grace
of that sacred land
and the kindness
of your generous soul,
rests gratefully
in the hand
         and heart
 of your humbled friend.

My beautiful friend and yoga instructor, Kim, recently went on retreat to India. I asked if she found herself in a place where she was filled with awe, if she would reach down and gather a pebble to bring back a piece of that magic. Last night at yoga she gifted me a smooth brown stone from the other side of the world. She described the beautiful mountains and palm trees surrounding her where she gathered it. To remember me when she was immersed in such an experience was such a generous act of kindness. That stone (and my friend) will always have a special place in my heart!

There is a thirst
I cannot quench
and a hunger
not satiated.
To learn
to grow
to understand,
my soul is motivated

Sandwiched between snow days, district workshops, and parent teacher conferences I was invited to attend a conference on best practices in reading and writing instruction in Massachusetts. Though I have literally written a book focusing on best practice, I create space in my heart and mind -open to receiving new insights and learning each day. And so I leave my family, my schools, my cozy bed for two days (and two states away) to feed my soul and grow my mind so that I can better serve those children who may not even know how thirsty they are.

You poured out your

gratitude and I drank  it in

like the goblet receives wine,

realizing the gift of

silent consideration

was all you asked of me. 

To talk would

break the spell that

held our hearts as one

in a space of compassion.

Once a year our school district has an amazing day of professional development with a slate of offering that teachers self-select. This year (yesterday)there were several focusing on self-care. I ended my day in a mindfulness session in which we partnered with someone we did not know well. Our task was for one to speak for several minutes on what they are grateful for and the other to listen silently-observing how we respond to their sharing. Many found it difficult not to respond with our “active listening” strategies, but to remain a silent observer. Our facilitator shared the acronym that has helped her be a more mindful listener-WAIT. She reminded us that responding has its place as long as we are aware of why we are talking. Are we truly receiving or making it about us?

Delicious food for thought!

Wind

makes

a poor

dance partner

for

trees.

#micropoetry    #SOL18

Maine endured a terrific wind storm last fall that left many without power for days on end. We could hear the wind through the forest and the crashing of timber. It wasn’t until this winter, when I could strap on snowshoes and scale the mounds of snow deep into the woods,  that I witnessed evidence of that destructive dance.

snow falls- flake by flake

but rises fast- foot by foot

moves slow- scoop by scoop

Here in Maine, we are in the middle of our third nor’easter in two weeks that has dumped at least a foot each time. This is our 8th snow day (2nd this week) and winter isn’t over.

Fortunately, we’ve had melting in between storms to keep the snow from burying us.
Unfortunately, the timing hasn’t been great for keeping school in session.
Fortunately, I love snow and it’s beauty.
Unfortunately, I also love summer and it’s beauty. I want to have some time away from the classroom to enjoy it before June ends! 

My Zen word for the day is acceptance.

We don’t need
to harden
our schools,
Our students’
lives
are hard enough.
They need
more
soft places
to pursue
their
happiness.

#MicroPoetry #SOL18

There is no Amendment more sacred than this declaration….”We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.”

I am sickened by the talk of “hardening our schools” It’s a ‘get tough’ soundbite that has disastrous implications for our nation’s public school children. Arming teachers will not deter a suicidal killer; they won’t be scared, but our children will be.  This vision of school looks more like prisons or warzones. Our children need books, not guns…calm, not violence…teachers, not body guards.  There is so much wrong with this thinking that I can barely breathe thinking about it. This Twitter Thread demonstrates how hard it is to put teachers in the position of killing one of their own.

The thing about
Monday
is I always
   stumble a bit
      to hit the reset
but after I wipe
    the sleep from my eyes
       the view from here
is spectacular.

#MicroPoetry   #SOL18

The first few moments of Mondays are always the hardest. My bed feels so warm, my weekend was filled with family, my time was my own…the alarm disconnects me from all that. I usually lie in bed for a bit and let the week come into focus, and when it does I am usually eager to greet it. I love my job. I love the students. I love the teachers I work with. My worlds just overlap a bit too abruptly at the crack of dawn on Mondays.

Happy Monday, Slicers.