Our Host
Denise Neal is currently the principal at Our Lady of the Way RC School in Belize. She has been in the education field for 29 years at the primary level and continues to do adjunct lecturing at the University of Belize from 2014 to the present. Her research interest centers around writing instructions at the primary level. Presently, she provides PD (professional development) for primary school teachers to develop their writer identity. She enjoys meeting new people and strongly believes in the power of writing to transform, liberate, and bring awareness to those who are often neglected because of their status.
Inspiration
As a woman of color being raised on the southside of Belize, I was faced with the hardship of having to do with the little my parents could provide for my siblings and me. I wanted more, I was hungry for greater opportunities, and I knew that education would open up the space for me to not only gain knowledge but to develop the mindset to become a productive citizen and allow me the opportunity to aid the underprivileged children in my community. My journey at Oklahoma was rigorous, but I endured the process and can now serve as a mirror for my students who have hopes for a better future.
Process
Think about your educational journey. In Aristotle’s words, “ The roots of education are bitter, but the fruit is sweet.” Because we all have different experiences, our stories will be a collage of joy, success, pain, sacrifice, opportunities, and commitment. I encourage you to write in 4 lines and have a minimum of five stanzas.
However, you are also welcome to write freely to TELL your STORY.
Denise’s Poem
My Story
Education is valued and nurtured by the privileged
While the underprivileged are restricted
Due to the financial disadvantage
Which causes those in power to take advantage.
Education should be a right
But is it a RIGHT
The marginalized group has to struggle
They struggle for FOOD, HEALTH CARE, and EDUCATION!
As a student, I had to work hard
I struggled with the effects of being labeled
Growing up on the northside of Belize was rough
So I had to double up and became tough
The academic discourse in High school was English
I was made to feel like Kriol was inferior
I had to speak the language that my colonial masters enforced
Which caused me to feel like I had to deny my cultural identity.
Because my parents never went to high school
I wanted to be the first to achieve that milestone
So I labored, persevered, and went through the rigid process
I kept going and going and going.
I believe in Education
Education is the path to liberation
But very COSTLY!
The cost is a major factor that hinders marginalized groups
Oh, how I wish my mom was alive
Alive in the flesh to witness my greatest lifetime achievement
While it was an intense, rigorous journey
God led me through the fire and was merciful
I had support from my family
I had support from my advisors and committee members
I had support from my colleagues
Thank you, Lord, YOUR MERCY NEVER FAILS me.
© Denise Cumberbatch Neal, PhD 10/18/24
Your Turn
Now, scroll to the comment section below to write your own poem. (This is a public space, so you may choose to use only your first name or initials depending on your privacy preferences.) Not ready? That’s okay. Read the poems already posted for more inspiration. Ponder your own throughout the day. Return later. And, if the prompt does not work for you, that is fine. All writing is welcome. Just write something. Also, please be sure to respond to at least three writers. Oh, and a note about drafting: Since we are writing in short bursts, we all understand (and even welcome) the typos and partial poems that remind us we are human, and that writing is always becoming. If you’d like to invite other teachers to write with us, tell them to subscribe. For suggestions on how to comment with care.
I tried hard, got my A’s,
congratulated and lauded,
I excelled . . .
Then Mom and Dad
split.
I stopped trying in classes
and did what pleased me,
waiting to see what they’d say.
Mom, “My grades went down when
my parents got divorced too.
It’s okay.”
Dad, . . . “I know you always try.”
Did neither care that I earned great grades?
Why had I tried?
Why had I bothered?
My study skills evaporated
even as test scores stayed stellar.
Procrastination led to many late-night essays.
I got into university despite my GPA.
Married at 19,
I dropped out.
I became a mom ten months later.
Three more babies arrived
by the time I was 27.
Mr. Rogers was my new mentor.
Now self-educated;
I devoured knowledge.
I researched for fun.
My favorite place
was the bookmobile–
the librarian saving great books
just for me.
My last baby finally went to school,
so I returned to myself.
Eager, hardworking, excited.
My new gpa reflected my love of learning.
Now I knew why to bother trying:
Education was for me.
Denise, wow, your story is so powerful. Thank you for the challenge. I have been thinking about the privilege of education today thanks to your prompt. Amen to this:
I’m so glad you saw the value and pursued your education all the way to a doctorate. The hour is late, so I’m just leaving this here today.
A Teaching Tanka
Mr. Hargrove led
The way for me to become
An educator
Sixth grade was socially tough
But he planted a good seed
Denise, like you, I look back over my life and see the seeds planted, and nurtured, by amazing teachers. Amazing human beings, really, who saw all the possibilities within us, especially in those “socially awkward years.” I think of it now as grace.
I love the power of your Tanka. You are a marvelous seed!
Denise,
Wow, you’ve given us so much to know about your story through your tanka. I love tanka! I am glad there was a Mr. Hargrove in your garden, planting seeds that would bloom into YOU!
💕
Hello! This poem was from the heart and a beautiful story and tribute to your education. This prompt had me thinking all day before I could sit down and write, thanks for the invitation to reflect.
What I Didn’t Know
In first grade, I think I knew
the most – thank you, Miss Hudson.
I could identify a red-winged blackbird
and spell a-r-c-h-a-e-o-p-t-e-r-y-x.
By middle school, I knew
how to melt naphthalene and write a lab
but not how to swallow jealousy
or gracefully admit defeat.
By high school I knew
how to write the hell out of an essay
but not that unrequited love
didn’t make me unlovable
By college, I didn’t even know school –
It felt like a game I’d played so hard to win
Then realized the cards were all thrown in the air
and I was picking them up alone.
Still learning that I know so little
might be the best medicine for harnessing
my feet to the ground and
humbling my heart to tenderness.
Emily, I loved reading this powerful poem of perspective. From a child’s pride to the driven teen, from the pursuit of excellence to the pursuit of a humble and tender heart that knows it needs to remain teachable. That is, in itself, the paradoxical summit of achievement! I can see this in a book of poems and tacked up on walls and framed on desks, for the daily reminder it offers.
Emily, this is powerful! I appreciate how you began with little Emily, a first grader, and took us along as your grew into your wise adult self! The ending could not have been better!
Hi Denise! Thank you for hosting the open write today. I thank you for sharing your story and inviting everyone to share theirs. My poem is called The Silent Struggle and it’s about my story of growing up while being behind in my reading level compared to my classmates.
The Silent Struggle
In the classroom, hands all raised,
Everyone’s a step ahead, amazed.
But I sit quietly, heart unsure,
The words on paper just blur and blur.
They read aloud, their voices bright,
While I sit still and try to fight.
The letters twist and slip away,
A puzzle piece I can’t display.
The teacher asks, “What’s on the page?”
And I feel caught inside a cage.
I want to speak, to share the sound,
But the words get lost, they won’t come ’round.
My friends move fast, they seem to know,
Their books grow thin, while mine won’t show
The story’s end, the twist, the rhyme—
I fall behind, lost in time.
The others play, their worlds so wide,
While I stay small, just trying to hide
The truth I carry, deep inside—
That I’m not where they are, and I’ve tried.
But even in the quiet nights,
When tears feel heavy, I still fight.
For somewhere deep, I know it’s true:
One day, those words will belong to you.
And though I’m slow, I’ll keep the pace,
For there’s more to me than just this race.
One day, I’ll read the stories bright,
And in those words, I’ll take my flight.
MM, Thank you for this reflection of learning with the scenes from within and beyond the classroom space. “Quite nights” and “take my flight” are movements in this poem that show the experiences lovely, and authentically. The quatrains also offer a rhythm and form that contrasts with the moving experiences in my reading; the rhyming is an act of resistance showing the gift of reading the world.
Sarah
M M,
thanks for sharing this moving narrative poem. I appreciate all the details
and metaphors (puzzle piece, cage) you use to show your struggle.
I love your triumphant ending:
Thank you for sharing your story and helping us understand the struggle that many of our students grapple with.
MM – thank you for sharing this – It’s such an important story not just for you, but for all educators to remember. First of all, it’s clear to me that you caught up and then some, and that you appreciated the gift perhaps more than others. I was moved by your fourth stanza about the comparison to friends, and I loved the rhythm of the line “the story’s end, the twist, the rhyme.” Thanks for sharing today!
OOOOOhhhhh my goodness, every child who has ever felt like they were not as bright as the others in class would SAVOR your poem. This is also a sweet reminder to teachers who sometimes forget how hard it is to not be at the head of the class or the top achiever. I love this so much. Thank you for sharing. You’ll be a student’s safe space when they learn your story.
Hi Dr. Denise,
Thank you for joining us and hosting today. I don’t know if I’ve met you here before but your story is intriguing and inspiring. I decided to write a mini Blitz because I didn’t have time to write 50 lines. Mondays are crazy, so I’ll be late responding.
28 Thoughts in a Mini Blitz
Teaching is heart work
Teaching gives me joy
Joy fills my soul
Joy comes every morning
Morning can sometimes be chaotic
Morning begins with gratitude
Gratitude for my calling
Gratitude for my children
Children come with curious minds
Children leave proud of their skills
Skills to navigate a cruel world
Skills to realize their wildest dreams
Dreams of becoming successful humans
Dreams of creating a world with peace
Peace is a possibility for all
Peace is not a privilege, it’s a right
Right now my students feel discouraged
Right now my heart is also broken
Broken systems aim to prevail
Broken spirits haunt our nation
Nation in shambles
Nation scorned
Scorned by others
Scorned within
Within my heart beat rhythms of hope
Within my bones live all the reasons
Reasons to protect education
Reasons to spread love
©Stacey L. Joy, 11/18/24
Stacey, I love Blitz form, and although I haven’t written it in this space, I have a poem published in one of the bilingual poetry books. It’s is such a great form. In your poem, I find so many thoughts that resonate with me because I am that person to whom “[j]oy comes every morning,” and I firmly believe that “[p]eace is a possibility for all.” The final two lines are of utmost importance: “Reasons to protect education / Reasons to spread love.”
Stacey, I’m not familiar with the Blitz format, but I love your poem and the repetition it provides. Your poem is an emotional roller coaster ride. I love how you balance all of these emotions with the discouragement and the pain. Your ending positivity is fabulous. You are a font of joy. Always spreading love and hope for the future. I think it’s more important than ever to protect education. If our children are not educated, they are more likely to be abused. It’s just so frustrating. Thank you for your sharing your wonderful blitz poem!
Oh, Stacey, it is great to see the Blitz. I forgot about this form until now. The parallel lines, the anaphora in couple is so powerful, such an echo, a resonance that lingers into each coupling. Within my heart, within my bones…I feel it.
Sarah
Stacey, thanks for the introduction to the Blitz – I really like the pattern, and you’ve used it powerfully here to reflect on teaching at this moment. I couldn’t harness my thoughts yesterday to respond to your prompt – I feel like every time I start to really think about what’s about to happen to our country this line makes sense: “broken systems aim to prevail/broken spirits haunt our nation/nation in shambles / nation scorned” – this just captures my fears, too. Thanks for giving me fire to protect education and spread love.
Molding Young Minds
By Mo Daley 11/18/24
I was just seven years old
When I learned to be well-behaved.
In those days, there were no “groups”
For kids who had lost a parent
No gifted classes to stimulate
A curious mind.
I only had Mrs. Gorman,
A teacher in the winter of her career
While I, the student,
Was in the spring of mine.
I finished the banal assignments quickly
And would slink away into the coatroom
To peek through the mousehole
In hopes that a rodent might
Enliven the classroom.
I began to challenge her authority
Wandering the halls
Looking for excitement
Only to find myself back in class
With a stern talking to
And rapped knuckles
Reminding me to mind my own business
And mind the teacher.
But who was minding me?
Mo, I’m sorry your childhood started out sad, but I’m glad that you’ve joined the profession with a sensitive heart and a clever pen. I love the synonymous use of “mind.” I can add one more: “You’ve fed your mind,” too, and filled your heart with the empathy and sympathy so vital to nourishing teaching.
Thanks for sharing your story.
Mo, I love this poem. I can definitely relate to your behavior. I know my behavior was completely altered after my mother could no longer care for me. I can just see you challenging Mrs. Gorman and hoping to find a mouse. Learning to be “well -behaved” is definitely a challenge when one feels lost and abandoned. Your poem is poignant. Thanks for sharing this today.
Mo,
I am moved by so many lines here from the no groups for kids “who lost a parent.” And a “teacher in the winter of her career” and “who was minding me?” At once the impossibility of meeting the needs of all student AND the absolute need to do so, to find a way to mind and see and form some group for everyone so there is belonging.
Sarah
Mo, I love and feel for the spirited, bored, bright explorer you were… how much we depend on that one guiding light in elementary school, and if they can’t care, you are in a tough spot. Your last few lines just put me right there with that 7 year old.
Words
I was born into a world filled with words.
Nursery rhymes, ABC blocks, Golden books.
Dick, Jane, and Sally were my first friends
Living in the country does that for (to?) you.
Grandma was a teacher, started me early.
At three, books were already my sustenance,
words the air that I breathed.
My grandfather and I recited the poem, “Hiawatha”
from beneath our card table tepee.
(Grandma, in the kitchen, was Old Nokomis.)
Trixie Belden and Nancy Drew kept me company.
Oh, how I wanted to steer that little blue roadster
down the mountain road. Instead,
I rode a yellow school bus to a country school.
Words carried me through that school
and out into the world, far from my small town.
Finally, I found my way to my true calling,
teaching reading and writing to struggling students.
I offered them the joy and power of words.
When they accepted my gift,
their worlds expanded.
The power of words knows no bounds.
And now I am here, with all of you,
sharing words, wisdom, and pieces of our worlds.
Words brought us here.
Words will replenish us all.
GJSands
11/18/24
Gayle, I smiled the whole while I was reading your poem. Your childhood seems idyllic. I love how you show that your teaching is a gift that helps students expand their worlds. And your ending is precious.
Gayle, Truth! “Words brought us here. / Words will replenish us all.” Words are, indeed, a “gift” and a “joy” and hold such “power.” Poetically speaking, and, I guess, carpentarily speaking (is that a word?), you hit the nail on the head, as usual! Thank you!
Gayle, what precious memories. Thank you for sharing them. These beautiful lines touched me:
And that ending! I love how you have passed on the value of words in your classroom and now continue to pass on the sharing here in this space.
Gayle, I love the warmth that radiates throughout this poem. Warmth for words and stories and the process of learning and loving them. I enjoyed the metaphors – words were air, a vehicle, an offering, and they do indeed replenish!
my love of reading
in third grade
my classroom was the library
the school had more classes than classrooms
and shelves of books filled our classroom
in third grade
when I finished my assigned work
I was allowed to read
any book on the shelves
in third grade
I lay on the floor before the book filled shelves
selecting my next read
and resting my head on the floor to read
in third grade
I read biographies of women, athletes,
and sometimes presidents
I met Juliette Gordon Low and Lou Gehrig
in third grade
I met Beverly Cleary, Judy Blume
along with Henry Huggins and Ramona
Fudge and Freckle Juice
in third grade
I filled my time with reading,
books, and cool floors to lie on
as I moved around the room
Jamie— I read your poem with envy and with a love for the way you shared the lovely third grade experience is small, specific bits. I felt like I was there with you!
This is such a sweet poem, Jamie. I really like the repetition that starts each stanza. For me, it evokes a dreamlike quality of your wonderful third grade experience.
Jamie, your story reminds us that reading need not be “assigned” to be useful. You were able to escape without leaving the space. Good for you. Your poem reminds us who classroom teachers to build in time for “window” shopping in books. (I’m alluding to the Rudine Sims Bishop’s line that books can be windows, mirrors and sliding glass doors. 🙂
Thanks for sharing your story and reminding us of the “stories” we can help inspire in our students, too.
Jamie,
Your poem made me smile. Fun to learn about your reading beginnings. I like how you list meeting real people, authors, and their characters.
Jamie, I love this snapshot of you in this classroom and the sensory images of the cool floors, and the shelves filled with possibilities. I also loved the books you talked about – I loved those fiction books, too, but also loved a biography. I could feel how free it felt there for you!
Denise, thank you so much for hosting today and for sharing your story full of determination, struggle, and success. Like you “I believe in Education / Education is the path to liberation.”
Here is my poem for today:
On the Shoulders of Others
My privilege was
being the youngest of eight,
who gave up their dreams
so I could chase mine—
a four-year degree
from a pre-stigious college.
My privilege was
to be born to parents
who labored long past
retirement’s call,
so each of us could learn
a skill to shape our futures.
My privilege was
learning English—
the one thing I carried
with fragile confidence
when I stepped off the plane
in Houston, twenty years ago.
My privilege was
a husband who believed
in his forty-four-year-old wife,
cheering her on as she
earned her Ph.D.,
in three whirlwind years.
My privilege was
my children, my students,
my friends, and my neighbors.
Was it always smooth?
Most certainly not. But today,
I stand on their shoulders,
and it feels extraordinary.
Leilya,
I love the refrain and the reminder of myriad ways we can be privileged as well as deprived. It’s lovely that those hard times tend to recede into the recesses of our minds.
Leilya, I love your words – My privilege was as you describe each step of your growing education. So many steps to fill you with the opportunity for an education worked for and desired. Thank you for sharing your story.
Leilya-I admire you for the way you overcame what you didn’t have, and for the honor you pay to those who supported you. The repetition is powerful…
Your poem is moving, Leilya, I love how you end this piece with the extraordinary emotion of standing on your children’s and students’ shoulders. Your story is one that needs to be shared. I hope you’re able to have many people read your poem to hear your story.
You are such a beacon of hope, Leilya, and this poem reflects that. I love the snap bite of “My privilege was…”
Leilya,
this is so beautiful. I love how your poem is infused with gratitude for all of your family members who helped you pursue your education.
What a powerful ending:
Thank you for sharing your — and your family’s—story.
Ah, Leilya, this is so beautiful. Your poem gives the sense of your gratefulness for all the shoulders on which you stand. Your love, humility and privilege shine through.
Leilya, thank you for sharing such a personal part of your life. I could resinate with your journey filled with blessings 🙌
I had the privilege of education
in my early years I went to Catholic school
until my mother couldn’t abide paying
for education she didn’t want me to have
(they dared to introduce sex ed)
then
mom dropped me off at junior high public school
without any prelude other than
her deep depression, heart-broken by her faith
she withdrew, refusing to engage discuss or reflect
about any of the teaching or learning there
leaving me in that dangerous and
delicious space of connecting my own dots
thinking for myself
and, wow,
my eyes were opened to new ways of
looking at the world, despite
the heavy restrictions and expectations
mom imposed on my life outside of school
truth,
there was no
returning
to the naivete of before
I began to see my privilege came
from her power, a very high expense
I needed to breathe very carefully
to live as I desired
now,
I try to keep eyes on privilege
to see from whom it is bestowed
in what ways am I walled-in, blinded
and who or what is being intentionally left out
avoided
held back
and how to change the system
so that it works for all
Maureen,
Those nuns would be in trouble now w/ that sex ed. What stands out to me is the unintended consequences from your mom dropping you off at public school. I think often about the circumstances that made private college available to me, and like you, I haven’t forgotten and know how unfair the system is, especially now.
Maureen, I love your youthful perspective as you switched from Catholic school to public school. You reflect and understanding of your situation – without any prelude other than
her deep depression . . . refusing to engage discuss or reflect. Left you to read between the lines and navigate the new school. You saw the new school from your perspective – leaving me in that dangerous and delicious space of connecting my own dots thinking for myself. At 13 I moved from a primarily white public school in Georgia to a totally integrated public school. I learned so much more than the work which was assigned to us. To this day I believe that learning was valuable and stayed with me shaping the person I am.
Maureen, what a powerful piece! I love the juxtaposition of “dangerous and / delicious space” when you were “connecting [your] own dots / thinking for [yourself].” And I really enjoy the topography of your poem, the look of it: the switch from “wow” to “now” is great. This is a cool, introspective, and important poem!
Auden—this phrase—“in that dangerous and
delicious space of connecting my own dots
thinking for myself”—I see the freedom and risk you took, and the knowledge that we do not understand our privilege until we face the loss of it.
Maureen, I posted my poem before reading any poems for today, except for the prompt and Denise’s mentor poem, so when I read your title, I thought that I wasn’t the only one thinking about my privilege. I like how you reflect on then and now, how your discovery that “wow” moment was an eye opener into the world for you. Your ability to do this is commendable:
“I try to keep eyes on privilege
to see from whom it is bestowed
in what ways am I walled-in, blinded
and who or what is being intentionally left out”
Thank you!
Maureen, your poem is compelling. I love how you share your story and how your mother influenced these experiences through her decision to pull you from a private school. Recognizing privilege and wanting to change the system are truly daunting tasks but absolutely necessary. I love your final line. I want this, too. Powerful poem and testament!
a dark and stormy night
These are, indeed, “the best of times,
the worst of times” when “the wind
whispered through the pines of the
Spine of the World” and “the man
in black fled across the desert, and
the gunslinger followed” when the
goddess sang “of the anger of Achilles,
son of Peleus” and I pondered “some
advice that I’ve been turning over in my
mind” that if you start by asking
“Who’s there?” you’ll end by realizing
there’s “Nothing to be done.”
_______________________________________
Denise, thank you for your mentor poem and prompt today! Like you, I really believe that “[e]ducation is the path to liberation”! For my offering, I looked at “my reading life.” These were (parts of) the first lines of books and plays that I remember from middle school and high school. I wasn’t a “big” reader back then (that came in college), but I remember these moments from these specific texts: A Tale of Two Cities, Dragons of Autumn Twilight, The Gunslinger, the Iliad, The Great Gatsby, Hamlet, and Waiting for Godot.
This is fabulous, Scott! I love how these words have stayed with you – truly, formative texts…leading to this rich, ironic poem. My favorite part – and so provocative, really:
Maureen and Scott—Maureen, you stole my thoughts, so I am just going to say, “what she said”
Scott I love how you string words from specific texts. Words that cleared have stayed with you. I always laugh and while Madeline L’engle’s words –
oops I didn’t finish – a dark and stormy night might sound so trite they perfectly open such a favorite story. Nice work.
Beautifully crafted, Scott – and maybe evidence that we are learning to love a thing without realizing it.
Scott, as I read your poem I kept thinking that I knew these lines already, and then I read your explanation. You weaved them together masterfully! I like the entire poem from the first till the final line, just wish to be a bit more optimistic in the end. Thank you!
Denise, thank you for hosting and sharing your incredible story.
I have decided to write about growing up behind my older brother as well as playing sports, and the things I have learned/ gained from both!
In the halls where her brother has been before,
the younger version has come to be an encore.
Following his footsteps, and trying to surpass,
She would do whatever she could to be the best in the class.
Not only in the hallways, but on the field too,
We shared a passion, that we would both see through.
Together we practiced and created a bond,
Through adversity we would know how to respond.
She continued on learning how to compete,
Never allowing herself to be beat.
This mindset brought to the classroom as well,
All with the hopes that she would excel.
His shoes left behind were heavy to fill,
Yet she took the challenge, filling them with her might and will.
Each day she just wanted to make him proud,
He ensured her, by always being in the crowd.
Together we have learned so much,
Day in and out he comes in clutch.
Forever inspired to be like him,
His sparkling light has never become dim.
KC, it’s heart-warming to see that siblings can drive each other to do better while also remaining close friends and connected. I feel that combo is hard to find. Thank you for sharing a hopeful poem today, one that pushes us to be better too. How lucky you are!
KC, Thank you for sharing. It’s often times hard for younger siblings to mirror the fame and achievement of their older siblings. But I am surely glad that you were resilient. Always remember that we are all special in our own way.
K C, what a marvelous tribute to your brother. I love how you crafted such a lyrical poem to show how much your brother influenced your desire to do well. The fact that he is always supporting you makes the poem and actions even more special. Your final stanza literally glows. I hope you share this piece with him. I’m sure he’ll be deeply touched.
I hope you share this poem with your brother. This is wonderful perspective on being the younger sibling, and so admiring of your older brother. Your personal power and strength shows through, especially with this line – “Yet she took the challenge, filling them with her might and will.”
K.C.,
Lovely celebration of sibling love and the importance of role models. Good job w/ the rhyme.
KC, the love woven through this poem is palpable – how uplifting to see a sibling so inspired by another! Not about bettering the other but bettering self because of the other – so powerful. As is the mutual support. The rhyme makes it feel like a ballad.
KC, thank you for sharing this poem! I really enjoyed reading it! As a person with lots of siblings this me of the dynamic that I have with them. Your poem was interesting and very relatable to read. 🙂
Denise, your fierceness and strength radiate throughout your poem. Thank you for sharing how important education is. I couldn’t agree more with everything you’ve said, and I’m so sorry your mother couldn’t witness your incredible achievement. Your poem inspired me to write about my mother.
First Lessons
My mother shared
her lovely voice
reading aloud wonderful tales
Mr. Grabbit the Rabbit
“The Turkey and the Candy Cane”
stories about kindness and generosity
In second grade
she was silenced
unable to walk or talk
I learned to care for her
together we listened
to recorded books on vinyl albums
I hear her voice in the choices
I make, her face appears
with pleasure or pain
I often prayed for a miracle cure
learning to do the best
with what I’ve been given
Barb Edler
18 November 2024
Barb,
These gorgeous reflections remind me of listening to my father read. I never saw my mother read. I imaging hearing your mother’s voice brings both comfort and sorrow. My heart hurts for littles who have parents who don’t read to them. Your words are ethereal and touching.
Barb, I am so glad you can remember her voice and that it guides you to this day. What a lovely memory and a powerful connection to her. When I lost my grandmother, I frequently reminded myself to remember her voice (did so as I was reading your piece) but it slowly fades until I’m not sure I’m remembering it or what I think it was. This is a beautiful piece today.
Barb, Oh thank you for sharing about your mom. It breaks my heart every time I think about my mom not being here to celebrate. But I am also thankful that God was merciful and allowed me the time, space, and grace to complete my studies. I can relate to your mom because I have a daughter who doesn’t talk. Her name is Bijou.
“I hear her voice in the choices
I make,” – wow, I love these words so much.
Barb, I see the collage of time here, with your mom shaping a reader and then your sharing the joy as you listened together. I’m so glad you can still hear her voice – what a blessing we share in that our mothers are able to still mother us from heaven through those voices we hear and the faces we see. Beautiful, friend!
Barb, this is a precious memory to be treasured through years. My Mom didn’t read to me, but told me stories, and these are the best memories I have of her. I share your pain of losing a mother; memories all we have left. One thing I know for sure–you did do the best “with what [you]’ve been given.” Thank you for sharing!
Denise, thank you for hosting and for sharing your story, which is moving and a reminder of how precious education is and should be to all. Many story includes my father’s blindness, my mother not attending my high school graduation, and my grandmother wanting me to drop out in seventh grade to care for my father.
the girl ran away
the girl ran
away to school—
her escape from
all the things.
Dick and Jane
ran with her
no one praised
her for reading
awards but lashings
accompanied Bs
so the girl ran away
to high school
despite stage fright
and her plugged-
nickel worth and myriad
failures at tournaments
the girl learned to
sound her yawp, so
the girl packed her
Pinto and drove
herself to college
fulfilling her father’s
dying wish, first
generation graduate
this cause-effect
chain of life brought
into the future her now
all because the girl
ran away to school
Glenda Funk
11-18-24
Glenda— the girl who ran away… that phrase, “bringing her future into now”…wonderful!
Glenda, your strength radiates through every line of this. How powerful you are. How strong you had to be. I am drawn to the Dick and Jane ran with her line – not only because my experience with the pair is so very different but also because of their placement within your poem, alongside you. It causes us to reimagine the running. And they why of it. Hugs.
Wow! Glenda, what an inspiration you are. You made the choice to move forward despite the challenges that you faced. With the odds against you, it would have been easy to just give in. But you didn’t…. Congrats!
Glenda, your poem is heartbreaking and powerful. Imagining the speaker running to save herself is the heartbreaking part, and I admire the self-will to escape from abuse and negativity where one should be embraced with love and care. I also admire the determination to succeed with speech/debate tournaments, even when facing stage fright. I love the positivity of the final stanza knowing the girl had fulfilled her father’s wish which is perhaps the greatest accomplishment of all. Your poem is an emotional ride. Kudos.
Incredible thread throughout of the girl running towards education; love this. I got chills at
“lashings
accompanied Bs” – wow.
Glenda, I’m so glad you packed the Pinto and ran away to school. You’re an inspiration, and I learn so much from you. And you’re still running…..to Boston for NCTE, to all points of the world to travel, and to sub in schools. You have zest for life!
Glenda, as a first generation college graduate to another: I want to say so much about the cuts from life’s sharp edges and the overcoming that shapes a future, a now, in spite of it all and because of it all. Your poem is gripping and triumphant. And empowering.
Glenda, this should be a title of your book “The Girl Ran Away to School.” This poem is you with your hunger for knowledge and independence, your determination to succeed, and your you are the cause and effect of this chain. Bravo!
Glenda,
Thank you for sharing your story through this poem. Your story is incredible when you where you are now. This poem shows that you are a very strong person based on the experiences you have had and the hard times that you have faced. You are extremely inspiring and incredible person. 🙂
Thanks, Denise, for the evocative prompt. With what’s going on in the news – all over the globe, it’s tough sometimes to say what we mean. But, in this setting, you and Sarah, our gracious hostess with the mostest, invites us to tell our stories truthfully.
Older and Bolder
In the autumn of my life
I’m getting older and bolder
Old enough to have experienced much
Smart enough to stay in touch
Seeing the importance of community
Even when we’re not in unity
Working together, whatever the weather
Even when wearing a different sweater
The logo on my shirt may hurt
The feelings of some who see it
So, I must kindly explain why
Why Diversity and Liberty
Because we need both, so let’s just try
Now, as I age and gain more knowledge
Extensions of what I learned in college
I urge you to do the same
Whatever the heritage from which you came
In the autumn of your life
Do what you can to minimize strife
But never give up your voice
Then, choose to rejoice
Because you made the right choice
Anna,
I appreciate your boldness and your leadership, which is a model for me as a retired educator. I wish there’d been black women teachers in my schools. I can’t wait to see you and give you a big hug at NCTE.
Anna, thank you for sharing! I have my entire teaching career ahead of me, and your lines about community and unity have stuck with me. It is always something I will strive for to create in my future classrooms.
KC, Welcome to one of the most IMPORTANT career paths … teaching. The thing is most of us who are teachers are learning something new every day. That’s okay, just take it all “with a grain of salt” and a “tablespoon of sugar”. Do stay in touch. My email is ajroseboro@comcast.net. One of my most gratifying times is spent talking with those just joining the journey. So, make me happy. Email me when you wish. Hugs.
Yeees Anna I am glad that you are taking the stance to be bold and to stand up for who you are….I am getting older and bolder…Love it
So much wisdom herein, Anna. Yes, “never give up your voice.”
Denise! This is a wonderful prompt to invite us to think about education, who educates us, and the way we become the roots. You certainly are the root and the fruit for so many as you reimagine schools and education in Belize, Dr. Neal! Cheers.
Dr. Donovan, I am blessed to have made it this far, and it’s because of wonderful and inspiring professors like you who helped me to navigate the waters, kept on pushing, and believed that it was possible. Grateful for the space to have shared a slice of my story.
Denise, what a great prompt! I want to use this with my students as we get to know one another more too. What an incredible journey you have made. Your poem got me thinking of journeys today. Feeling swamped on this Monday so I am having to finish this in between classes right now. Yikes!
A Reading Journey
It was on the night
when Max wore his wolf suit
that the letters made mischief
of one kind or another
A told B
and B told C
let’s go on a journey
come and follow me
Some clumped together
(I am Sam)
then shuffled around
(Sam, I am)
Some started a plan
(Come, Spot, Jane said)
Setting it in motion
(See Spot go)
Words became plots
(Nancy Drew was driving home
along a country rode)
and a reader grew
I love this narrative, Jennifer. Right in the moment of a growing of a reader. And the parentheses at the end are a perfect commentary!
Sarah
Jennifer,
I love all the allusions to books I love, although only Dick and Jane and Spot were part of my learning to read. I love thinking about words as our guides. Fun poem.
Wonderful! The plot, the asides, and NANCY DREW! I wanted the blue roadster in my life…
Jennifer, you are taking me back to the books I grew up learning with! What a fun way to incorporate them into your poem!
Thanks for taking time out of your busy day to read, ponder, and write. I am sure your students will experience a ray of emotions as they write about their journey.
Jennifer, you had me at the first two lines. I do adore Max, and I love how cleverly you weaved other children’s books into the poem. Ending with Nancy Drew was sheer joy! Absolutely love everything about your poem.
Jennifer,
What a delightful poem! Growing up one of my favorite books to read was Where the Wild Things Are, and your poem gave me a bit of nostalgia while I was reading it! I also really liked the flow that your poem has. It almost acts like a book it’s self because it is drawing the reader in. Great job!
Denise,
Thank you for hosting and sharing your story.
Indeed,
that is afforded all and welcomes all.
EE scholarship
Impersonal; not for me
Dropped an E: English!
Sharon,
I have been thinking about a version of this, too. I like to think of English as language arts only. Or maybe just arts, but this “education” part– am I interpreting this right? — that is interesting.
Peace,
Sarah
Hi Sarah and all other readers,
EE is for Electrical Engineering. I studied that for two years and then switched to English.
Hi Sharon, I hope that one day, it will become a reality for all of us.
Sharon, thanks for explaining because I was thinking what Sarah did about EE. Electrical Engineering! Wow, yes, that does sound impersonal. I’m glad you had the gumption to switch!
Thank you, Denise, for leading us to reflect on our educational experiences.
words v. numbers
a girl of the 80s
encouraged to go
the math/science route
so I could name my job
a nation at risk.
i was good at it
scores near the top.
so, i headed off to college
with math education
as my major.
what a farce.
good at something
and loving something
are miles apart.
it took a plummet
in performance
to initiate a change
in major.
off to english ed.
i went.
books
writing
drama
these things filled my head
lifted my g.p.a
and took up residence
in my heart.
numbers count
but
words matter.
~Susan Ahlbrand
18 November 2024
Susan,
I was a new teacher when “A Nation at Risk” came out. What a mess that created. You are so right about following your heart. Do what you love. I loved seeing this numbers game part of your story.
“Words matter” I didn’t learn this until I went through the National Writing Project summer institute. What a transformative time for me.
Susan, I love your poem….numbers count but words matter. When I think about that line, I recall how many voices have been silenced.
Susan, your last stanza says it all. Wow! Words do matter! Powerful story! Thank you!
Love love love “numbers count / but / words matter.” Mic drop…or maybe pen drop…or word processor dro– you get the idea, lol…. (And I love the deliberate lower casings throughout…this is great, Susan!)
Susan, the revelation that “good at something and loving something are miles apart” is such a defining moment here in the turning point of your poem and your life. Books, writing, and drama took up residence in my heart, too, when I was young – you are a kindred spirit! I applaud that 80s-girl for realizing and pursuing her passions.
More than memorizing economics
supply and demand, more than
copying theorems from textbooks,
more than conjugating estar and ser,
it’s the schooling of it all that
really pisses me off.
When all the grading curves and
red pen marks passed me along,
I knew I had floated through
the doors, passed partial papers,
complied passively, nodding
for just enough to be schooled
but not educated.
Afraid, anxious, I pull the thin
veil from my eyes, finally seeing
what skimming and packets and
multiple choice did to me. Away.
Away from schooling, an education
waited. Waiting for me to take
up an argument, craft a solution,
find my voice. I’ve only
just begun an education.
Sarah,
These lines say so much about what has been happening in classrooms for a very long time: “it’s the schooling of it all that
really pisses me off.” Susan mentioned in her poem the thing that started that, A Nation at Risk. And there in Oklahoma w/ RW, well, you know. I see that ending as a battle cry: “I’ve only
just begun an education.”
Like you, I was schooled, not educated. I feel like we have to take on education for ourselves. My father never stopped learning. He was reading about astrophysics on the day he had a stroke that would take his life. I want to live into his example of how to keep learning. I’ve only begun.
Dr. Donovan, I enjoyed reading your poem. It made me reflect on the kind of education we are offering students. Are we asking them to be robots, or are we preparing them for the real world? We often focus so much on testing that we never stop and allow our students to just THINK!
Sarah, I absolutely and completely understand unfortunate “schooling” many of us suffer. Your last statement is how I continue to feel. Education, true education, never ends. I find myself learning more every day in spaces and places just like this one. Sensational poem!
Denise, I’m sure I reflect the thoughts of everyone here in how proud we are that you made the long journey to education. We need more dedicated people like you in the system. I am at the end of my teaching career and having a hard time thinking about leaving. It was my only dream when I was young. I am finding the new policies and lack of care for the children difficult to take.
I close my door
and slide next to you,
while you read your poem to me.
I close my door
and open the blinds
for sunlight to shine through
instead of fake fluorescent.
I close my door
and let you speak
about your ideas, your failures,
your interests.
I close my door,
turn on the timer,
and write with you.
I’ll love you, support you,
be your advocate,
and never close my door
to you.
Margaret, I felt like you were reading this poem for me. It resonated with me all that an educator should be. Pease find a way to not fully exit. We need educators like you close.
Margaret, wow, what a beautiful poem. Your students are surely blessed to have you as their teacher. Love the juxtaposition of the line “I close my door” which is such a blessing and “opening for your students. Bravo!
Child-centered and beautiful, Margaret. It’s a true (and loving) picture of doing what is right for children. In my neck of the woods we are losing teachers right and left because of constraints that don’t leave any room for the art of teaching.
Beautiful, Margaret! There is a lot of noise in education, but it is those quiet moments of coming alongside children to whom our hearts are open that make all the difference. You, friend, make a difference. I, too, wrestle with all the changes that have happened over the years to take teaching away from a sense of discovery and wonder into the prescribed and scripted landscape it has become.
Denise – Your poem narrates a real, a marvelous story of strength, grit, and spirit. I’m inspired and hope to join in later today. Thank you for a terrific prompt.
Susie
Denise, thank you for this wonderful prompt. I’ve been writing away in my journal…first your prompt from the point of view of a character which led to an article and finding words for a found poem which led to a photograph. I don’t have anything to share publicly. But, it’s been a good time of writing this morning. Thank you! I’m so glad you are a teacher and that we get to call the profession we work in ours.
Denise, so many facets of your educational journey reflect my own – the cost of the education as a barrier, the longing for someone who loved, supported, and sacrificed for you to see “my greatest lifetime achievement.” What a great invitation today – for I believer we are all knot together by our stories, and therein lies the greatest reason for sharing them. “Thank you, Lord, YOUR MERCY NEVER FAILS me” – Amen.
Latecomer
in the eleventh hour
of eleventh grade
I decided to
go to college
it had never been
discussed or encouraged
at home
it was a thing
for other people
with money
(be a secretary,
said my dad
so I begrudgingly
signed up
a business typing class
and promptly
failed it)
I had to have
an appointment
with the AP English teacher
who didn’t want
to let me in
due to my lack
of preparation
I love books,
I told him.
I’ve loved writing
all my life
he sighed
and said
all right
but only on
a trial basis
I nailed that course
tying with two others
for the highest GPA
at home
my father frowned
and reluctantly co-signed
for the student loans
you’ll have to pay for itz
he said
because I can’t
and I did
because my grandmother
secretly helped
I lost motivation
and my way
after the first year
it would be
twenty more
before I returned
in a cohort
for teacher assistants
to become certified
on the day I graduated
my oldest was taking
his first semester
college exams
in the end
the eleventh hour
turned out to be
perfect timing
What a tough road you had to get where you are. Thanks for sharing your story.
Fran, I could relate to so much in your poem. My father thought college was a waste for girl…
“You’re just going to get married and have kids in a few years.” He was right, but I was right and managed to marry, have five children, have a wonderful teaching career and earn two degrees. Long story which I may try to put into verse if time permits today. I loved your last stanza…timing is not always what we think it will be. Thanks for sharing your journey.
Fran,
This is a surprising story. I’m constantly amazed at the directions life takes us.
Fran, thank you for sharing your incredible journey. I may not know you, but I am proud of you for overcoming each obstacle no matter how big or how small!
Glad that you followed your gut, persevered, and found your way to a profession where your love of words could be used.
Oh, Fran, what a great inspiration. I am glad that you kept on going. It doesn’t matter how long it took; you MADE it!
Fran, what a testament to your determination! The good Lord’s timing is always spot on, and what a remarkable achievement! I’m so glad you finished and became a Literacy Coach – – you do amazing things, and children need more like you who inspire them in so many ways. I love this!
What a great story. When I was in college, I sent my mother (who had one year of pharmacy school for college)college catalogs for all the colleges that were in the area we lived. She enrolled, became a nurse graduating the same year that I did. Education is precious. So glad to be in this profession with you.
Denise, what an amazing journey you have had! Your story is an inspiration, and I certainly understand wanting our moms to be back, if only for a day. I’m grateful that you had support along the way. The power of encouragement and having a team makes all the difference! Thank you for hosting us today and inspiring all of us to share our journeys.
What Mattered
not the classrooms
not the worksheets
not the crayons
but the experiencing
not the posters
not the desks
not the chalkboards
but the reading
not the papers
not the assignments
not the projects
but the thinking
not the textbooks
not the answers
not the calculating
but the writing
Amen and amen, Kim – I started trying to write my own stories when I was six years old, and specific teachers appeared along the way like sages to guide me onward and upward with the craft. For Scout in TKAM reading was like breathing – for me, as for you, writing was and still is my breathing. I cannot imagine my life without it. This poem sings to my very soul, friend.
Kim, I love the structure you chose for writing this morning, the short clips using not, but. I try to provide these important things to my students.
You hit the nail on the head, Kim! You peeled away the accoutrements of education and cut to the core. Love this simply but serious view of what matters.
Kim,
Youve drilled down on what matters in teaching ELA: reading and writing and thinking. Too often the rest is just noise and nonsense.
Kim, powerful format here to emphasize what did matter. Love it!