My Thoughts

Draft started 4/16/2020 I'm gonna start this thought before I lose it and before I do any scientific research.  Ugghhh, grad school severely altered my ability to develop a full thought without thinking about quantifying data.  With the craziness of the school closures and distance learning, I've read over and over remarks from teachers about equal access.  I've been there, and sometimes, I linger here still -- the idea that all students should have equal access. It's easy and simple.  I only have to create one lesson plan to push out with the expectation that all students have equal access and that no issues will arise as students complete the assignment.  Ok, none of us teachers really believes this myth.  We may long for it, but we don't believe it will ever happen.  Sometimes, magically, we get close???  Teacher background and education level, age and experience all contribute to ideology.   As an illustration:  younger teac...

Tossing and turning and trying so hard to sleep - I could hear mom and dad arguing down the hall. I wish they’d stop, because the boys might wake up, and I’m just too tired to get them back to sleep.   Dad is telling mom that she has to stop drinking and using the rent money, and I know she’s crying. Geeze, I’ve heard ‘em all, excuses from behind that damn door. From behind the closed door creeps the sounds of poverty , echoes in my head  I think how great that would be for personification, so I grab my journal to add that note. My pen’s stuck in the crease of a poem.  I wrote this in class today as Ms. Patel droned on and on about the beauty of poetry and the deeper meanings it contains. Ms. Patel, sometimes poetry is just lines with meter and words that may or may not rhyme.   Sometimes a phrase that you may think is a simile or metaphor is just a reflection of the reality of the poet’s existence. These were the introductory remarks I wrote in class....

I have always fancied myself a writer. From as early as I can remember, I wrote - stories, poems, editorials, journal entries.  According to my mom, I even began this literacy as soon as I started talking.  She mentioned in my baby book that I often entertained others with my stories as early as 3 years old.  In fact, I often imagined myself working at a newspaper or magazine as a journalist.  I even started this blog hoping to develop a following, believing that it would bolster my confidence to seek publication. Fear of rejection...........................I cannot say enough about this.  My fear of rejection is so deeply personal on many levels.  Taking time to write about my fear of rejection as a separate topic could fill pages and pages as all the levels unwind.  I received lots of attention in school for my writing abilities, and all that assurance did so little to soothe an ego bruised by all the whispers, snide remarks and rejection of ...

The first time I felt cheated was when I was only five years old. My cousin had temporarily came to stay with us after she had been severely abused by her mother. She enrolled in school with me; she was my age;  therefore she was in my class because we were in a small school. I do not remember feeling cheated, angry or upset because she was at our house; but something about her being at school with me made me feel extremely cheated out of my opportunity at school.  I was not a very gracious host during that time frame, and I let my jealousy get the best of me. It is a regret that I have lived with for a really long time - the way I treated my cousin. At five years old, I really couldn't understand what she needed. I felt cheated out of the attention that I got from my teachers and my classmates. I felt cheated because school was my opportunity to shine, to be the smartest, the best in kindergarten. I could already read, knew how to color within the lines very well,...

As a lil' girl, my Dad would  bring home cigar boxes from the liquor store that I used for all types of things.  Believe it or not, we actually used to take them to school to use as our pencil boxes. I always kept the lil' trinkets in my cigar box that meant so much to me..........a shooter marble, my skate key, a needle to air up my basketball, my jacks.  My box looked very similar to Scout's box in To Kill a Mockingbird .  In all these years since I was young, my desire to have collections has only persisted.  I have a collection of recipes in a ceramic box I made when I was first married; my antique buttons and bits of antique lace rest serenly in a mason jar with a satin padded top for my pins; my favorite photos are in a faded hat box lined with a soft cotton floral material.  When my mind reaches far back to those special and warm moments that sustain me, I always think about my collections. Pinterest has become my virtual cigar box..................