Mendocino Poems

These are poems inspired by a place, Mendocino.  It is a small town on the northern coast of California.  My family has been going there every summer for over 50 years and now I take my son.  It's really special. 

Coastal

It is possible that there are
cliffs like these in other places but
I refuse to believe they are as beautiful.
That anywhere else the sky forms
a more elegant tapestry.
That those other waves crash as symphonically
against such perfectly carved rocks.
That the song the sea foam sings on other shores
is as sweet as the lullaby I hear right now.

The Show

You can pay $18.50 for a ticket to the planetarium 

or you can sit in a field unpolluted by lights 

during the Perseid meteor shower.  

The crickets will narrate 

instead of Morgan Freeman.

The temperature in the theater 

is subject to change without notice

and since the footage is unedited 

your patience is required. 

Still, you can be quite certain 

that the universe extends beyond the ceiling

that the infinity of stars are twinkling in real time and 

that the one you just watched has not already 

been used up on some other person's wish. 

Ars Poetica

I don't call myself a poet, but I do write quite a bit of poetry.  I have been teaching it for the last seven years and it has become my preferred method of documenting and discussing my personal and inner lives.  I have never liked journaling, and while I suppose blogging could be considered a type of journaling, I don't cringe at my past words here like I do on paper.  I am learning to offer myself the same compassion I offer my students and their writing.  These are a few of the poems I've written recently that I like.

Green

Spring did not come easy that year
and neither did her happiness.
Both were wrought from cold hard ground,
after a tough as nails winter,
faces into belligerent gusts of wind
and relentless rain.

Exhausted they turned toward the sun
the moment it appeared.
The first bud was strong and sweet
paving the way for full bloom.
Tiny leaves gathered on the branch andsuddenly everything was green. 

Blackberries

For Allen

My favorite memory will be picking blackberries with you
on the way to Boyle's swimming hole.
The path was well lit and sunny and dusty
like I remembered.
There were no cattails but the reeds were as high as our heads.
Blackberry thorns pricked on both sides.
Ripe fruit was scarce but
I reached into the briars
risking skin and limb because blackberries
are your favorite
and I would do anything for you.

Ars Poetica

When I was 5, I stole a piece of candy from the grocery store.
When I was 11, with my throat burning, I confessed this sin
to my father, who tilted his head as he looked at me and said,
Why are you telling me this?

Years later I gave birth to my one dear son,
and when I whispered my hopes and dreams
in his ear, he looked at me just like my father did.
Again, I guess, I was not making any sense.

Sometimes, language is insufficient

When Young Mothers Die of Cancer II

Somewhere in Maryland a
young mother is dying.
Down in Houston her mother grieves.
In California her children play together,
as she would have liked had she
lived long enough to see it.

At night sometimes she comes to them,
her smell sweet and familiar,
her hug warm and longed for.
She wraps them tight in memory.

In the morning they say nothing,
afraid someone will tell them it wasn't real.

Philosophy of Education

The book from college that I remember reading is Neil Postman’s The End of Education.  He was the founder and chair of my program, the Department of Culture and Communication at New York University.  While at the time I had no intention of becoming a teacher, now that I am I think about this book all the time.  To summarize, he asked school leaders, educators, and students, “Why are we all here?” Why indeed. 

Once I knew I wanted to be an educator I attended Bank Street College of Education, a place where I could grow my practice without compromise.  The gods served by progressive education were in alignment with Postman’s perspective that schooling should be about “how to make a life, not a living”.  After 12 years in the field, I still wonder how we might focus the methods of education (the standards, the learning goals, the essential questions, the projects) on “meaningful” ends – the definition of which educators disagree. Ultimately, what do I wish my students? A sense of personal identity, cooperative interdependence with others, respect for our earth, a commitment to community, to peace, and to justice.  Such “soft skills” are not often in vogue and yet who can deny that the human experience is complete without them?

I have three mantras that center my teaching around achieving what I see as the end goal of creating capable and confident lifelong learners who are empathic and engaged citizens.  People who might know how to go out and make a life. When faced with a dilemma I can count on these words to bring truth to light.

Teach the whole child

This was my first teaching philosophy, captured in a Master’s thesis that still rings true today.  At that time, I wrote:

My priority is preparing students to become lovers of learning for life.  I want them to value their intellects and capabilities and have faith in their desires and their dreams.  I want to provide opportunities for them to bring their outside learning in, as well as opportunities for them to share what we learn together with their families, friends, and communities…I want to be a teacher who sees all of my students as whole people with whole lives.  I want to fearlessly jump into those lives and care.  I want to bring those whole children into the classroom and leave their emotional, social, intellectual, and moral selves better than when I found them.  

My yesterday self would be proud to know that these are still my priorities.  I still seek to provide authentic learning experiences for the unique students I come in contact with each year. I still try to listen and solicit their ideas and feedback.  I still try to offer choices and leave room for their inspired creativity.  The invisible curriculum where students are building identities and friendships, where they are testing the boundaries of integrity and authority, where they are developing a growth mindset understanding of risk, failure, and success, is just as important as what we read and write and calculate.  I try and remember that those are simply means to a much bigger end.

Teach what matters

Our sixth-grade curriculum feels important.  Quaker philosophy asks that we “Let Our Lives Speak”.  To let one’s life speak, one has to discover what it might say.  By making careful curriculum choices, I try to give my students room to uncover areas of interest and to develop talents that might be of use as they go about the business of living. We are motivated by the testimonies – weighty concepts like peace, integrity, equality, and stewardship.  Over several years, our team has infused these ideas directly into the curriculum through the lens of social studies. 

Thematically, we study global issues and sustainable solutions.  Sixth graders want to know what is going on in the world.  We watch the news, we read articles, we research hot topics. We build our media literacy and think critically about information that is presented.  We debate potential perspectives. Current events can be frightening, even to adults, but we establish our classroom as a safe place to feel authentic emotions and to ask questions.  We learn about the United Nation Sustainable Development Goals and the movement to make major headway on key problems by 2030.  We leave room for our interests.  Last year we studied ethical sourcing of raw materials for chocolate and cell phones.  The year before it was endangered manatees.   The exact issue is less important than going through the process of asking ever deeper questions, using multiple sources to answer them, listening to a variety of perspectives, and putting our research into action.  It is a process they can use their whole life.   I am especially proud of how our food justice curriculum is taking shape. It contradicts the notions that service-learning work is not “rigorous” and that its integration dilutes the academic program.  What is more rigorous that studying world hunger?  It is a problem that has not yet been solved. 

We culminate the year with a design-thinking project.  Students are charged with building scale model sustainable homes for well-researched client families from around the world.  This highly collaborative, interdisciplinary experience allows them to apply a wide variety of gained skills in a novel way.  They have to depend on one another and to be dependable, as it is too much work for any one member to shoulder.  They can visualize what it will take to provide sustainable lifestyles around the globe.  What others need.  What we must give up.  Most of all, students walk away knowing there is a role for them in creating this better life.  They are involved and they are invested.  

Curriculum design is one of my favorite aspects of teaching.  I love wrestling with content, resources, and activities to craft dynamic learning experiences based on the interests of that year’s cohort. I see first-hand how social studies allows students to grapple with the problems of those who lived long ago or far away. It is an empathic exercise.  Quaker philosophy also asks that we look for “that of god in everyone”, something that I think social studies helps us to do.  Through our studies what I really hope is that students build the cultural competence and vulnerability required to be in community with others.  Only together in true partnership can we work on problems that really matter and create solutions that restore justice and create a sustainable future for all.

Teach without ego

 I sincerely believe that ego is the nemesis of the teacher.  I define it as a projection of a self that is separate and different and special from the other selves in the world.  Left unchecked it can be divisive and a barrier to compassion.  It breeds insecurity, jealousy, and competition.  Ego can be a detriment to the practice of teaching. I came across this dilemma while exploring the concept of the teacher-leader.  As I seek to be an integral part of progress and evolution in my schools, I have to be really honest with myself about my intentions.  Am I propping up my self-esteem, trying to get ahead, or seeking to control a situation according to my own desires?  Am I operating on fear or resentment? With a fixed resolution or an open mind?  Am I acting in the interests of my students? Do I honor best practice? Do I uphold agreed up ethics? Am I present to talk or to listen?

When I first joined my current school, I entered into a team teaching situation that I greatly underestimated for its difficulty.  I came to realize that most of the angst I felt at work could be traced back to my ego.  Desires to be recognized, respected, and right can be strong. Self-preservation seems sensible and competition seems healthy.  A twinge of resentment over a close relationship or individually achieved success seems normal. Suspicion of new colleagues and initiatives seems expected. Giving priority to the activities and topics I prefer seems logical. But when these emotional responses interfere with my ability to focus on what is best for my students and their learning, my ego is the one that needs to back down.  In those moments, I am learning not to fight, not to defend, not to protect, not to promote.  I am learning to let go.  When "I" am at the center of my practice, the world my students and I are creating together feels fragile and destabilized, tilted in the direction of a self-concerned perspective.  When my students are at the center of my practice, our world seems infinitely more solid.

These mantras are evidence of my growth and continuing evolution as a teacher.  I acquired each of them during a particular time though for me they remain timeless.  With further reflection, my practice continues to deepen, proof that I am what I wish for my students, on a joyful journey of lifelong learning.