In each poem, I want to create a snapshot of childhood and how girls navigate in the world. I’m going to take time to think back on what was important to me back then.
Tag: curiosity
What Little Girls are Made of
When I walk down the corridors, I am greeted by a variety of girls, ages three to eleven. They wear colorful leggings, light-up sneakers, unicorn headbands, wild curls and long twisted braids. They come in all shapes, shades, and sizes. And they are the hope we need in this world, especially right now.
Writing to Entertain
It's Wednesday, time for Kindergarten writing workshop. I have a hop in my step as I walk down the hall towards the Kindergarten classroom. I open the door, and the teacher rushes over to tell me that she desperately needs my help.
Problem Solver
Problem solver. That is who I am. That is who I am at the core of my being, of my soul. I’m not sure if that’s because I faced daunting problems in my childhood that I felt compelled to fix.
Fly Like a Bird
March is on the verge of bestowing full green upon the world. I can hear it in the birds that perch above my feeder, bright flashes of blue and red, wonderful displays of white-tipped browns and grays.
Sacred Trees
In my search of rest, I often find solace in trees. I find comfort in their sturdy trunks and the variations of their bark – molted gray-green, bumpy brown, spectacular white. Their branches reach high to the heaven and bend with the wind.
Bright Encouragement
Many of her co-workers call her “a ray of sunshine,” and she truly is. Laura always has a smile on her face, sees the positive sides of all situations, and her classroom bustles with excitement.
Poetry Chefs
January and February are long stretches in the world of teaching. The frigid, gray days of the northeast make these teaching times even longer. When I had a classroom to myself, I always found ways to celebrate with kids to brighten up these dismal days. The celebrations always centered around stories and usually included art and cooking.
Icarus Found: A Poem Remembered
I began recreating the poem silently in my head as I drove. It was had three stanzas maybe four. I couldn’t remember the exact words, but as I recited it my head, I got closer and closer to the original poem. The rhythm of the road helped me to remember.
Something to Believe In
She will not give up her belief in Santa. I think this is because he represents generosity, hope, and magical thinking. Why would anyone want to give up that? Those are qualities that will bolster us as we make our way on this long journey. There is no need to toss Santa out, instead let’s celebrate him!
Word Dancer: Literature, the Arts, & Education 