Source: themetapicture (Spotted in the window of a biology professor office…)
Tag: School
Dad reads. Eyes (and heart) moving down the page. Then bows his head.
Dad didn’t like it.
Dad didn’t support it. (Story here.)
Dad gets rolled (ignored is a better word).
Daughter does it anyway.
Last night, Daughter as President, addressed Seniors and incoming Freshmen in her final official duty.
Daughter sends Mom and Dad two text messages last night.
“Everyone Loved it.”
“They all cried.”
Here’s a summary of her speaking notes:
Continue reading “Dad reads. Eyes (and heart) moving down the page. Then bows his head.”
Say Something
Dread.
It started in the shower.
Stomach sour – doing loop de loops.
Northern Michigan.
Late November, 1980s.
The morning shower is followed by a long walk in the dark from the dorm.
Square into the teeth of a wicked Northern Michigan wind.
Mitts. Goose down coats. Parkas. Sorel boots.
Students filing in for the 8:00 am class.
I find a seat in the middle-back. Need to get invisible.
I’m below the stoners and the drunks, adorned with hoodies.
I’m above the whizz-bangs, a**-kissers and kids with coke bottle glasses.
Three weeks earlier the Professor kicks off his class with ground rules.
“A full letter grade is determined by your class participation, frequency and quality.”
Red Pencil in hand.
He’d put a tick mark next to each name who’s hand would go up.
He’d hang over his journal scribbling after a noteworthy comment.
I’m sitting.
And shredded in half.
One half with head down to avoid being called on.
Coward.
The other half, The Angry Man – a full letter grade down before taking a single exam.
Continue reading “Say Something”
Landslide
It was move-in day.
A North Carolina morning.
Where a cool breeze dusted your face.
And a cumulus cloud was chiseled into an otherwise unmarked sky.
The Sun was warming.
Yes, another one of those days in which you know.
You know that this wasn’t all by accident.
Too large. Too complex. Just too big.
We are among other parents and their children getting an early start.
Moving day buzz and jitters.
Hauling printers, pillows, college-ruled paper and milk crates. Setting up bunk beds.
He’s tense.
Momma and Momma’s Boy are tangling over where to put stuff.
PC isn’t working.
I tell him to let me try.
I sit in his desk chair. The chair he will be sitting in for the next 9 months.
And work on setting up his printer.
I feel his disorientation.
The Anxiety.
Change.
He’s inherited this from his Dad. Continue reading “Landslide”
Like, A Horse with No Name.
In 7th grade, a substitute teacher introduced us to poetry. Well, sort of. He circulated a copy of the lyrics for America’s hit song: A Horse With No Name. The class lit up like fireflies offering up their interpretations. DK, shoulders slumped, head down, was pretending to be reading the lyrics – – sat nervously hoping he wouldn’t be called on. The 30 minutes of inadequacy never vacated short term memory. (Samuel Beckett: I’m like that. Either I forget right away or I never forget.“) I came across the poem below by George MacDonald and I found it moving me…Spring fever perhaps….and as my eyes slowly worked down one line and then the next, I found my spirits lifting…Hey! I understand this. I get it. I like it. No, I love it. And, then. Reality. I reached the last line and was stoned.
Through all the fog, through all earth’s wintery sighs,
I scent Thy spring, I feel the eternal air,
Warm, soft, and dewy, filled with flowery eyes,
And gentle, murmuring motions everywhere—
Of life in heart, and tree, and brook, and moss;
Thy breath wakes beauty, love, and bliss, and prayer,
And strength to hang with nails upon thy cross.
– George MacDonald, Diary of an Old Soul
So Sensei. My wise readers. Help me out. Explain what the last line means. So, I can get to sleep. Or, better yet, tell me you have no idea either. And I’ll sleep like a baby. 🙂
Source of Beckett quote and MacDonald Poem: journalofanobody