Your lovely face
Brings to my heart enormous joy
Your lovely face
Reminds me nothing can replace
My very own Helen of Troy
You are truly the real McCoy
Your lovely face
©2015-Art Belliveau
Showing posts with label NaPoWriMo 2015. Show all posts
Showing posts with label NaPoWriMo 2015. Show all posts
30 April 2015
29 April 2015
Late April Inservice
Wednesday, after school, an inservice class meets
in the library to talk about iPads.
Nervously, the anxious instructor smiles, greets
us, tries to put us at ease, knowing we've scads
of things we'd really rather be doing now.
It's spring, we're antsy, so she'll have to allow
for our fatigue--we're almost slap happy here--
as we learn new things that will help us--next year.
©2015-Art Belliveau
in the library to talk about iPads.
Nervously, the anxious instructor smiles, greets
us, tries to put us at ease, knowing we've scads
of things we'd really rather be doing now.
It's spring, we're antsy, so she'll have to allow
for our fatigue--we're almost slap happy here--
as we learn new things that will help us--next year.
©2015-Art Belliveau
27 April 2015
Grading Papers
Sitting alone in my room,
Grading papers after class.
Wanting desperately to give good grades,
But knowing I will deal out fair grades.
The only way to give them growing room
When they all come back to class.
And I know that tomorrow, in class,
When I hand them back their grades,
I'll have to motivate the room.
"Class, remember, with revision there is room to raise your grades."
©2015-Art Belliveau
Grading papers after class.
Wanting desperately to give good grades,
But knowing I will deal out fair grades.
The only way to give them growing room
When they all come back to class.
And I know that tomorrow, in class,
When I hand them back their grades,
I'll have to motivate the room.
"Class, remember, with revision there is room to raise your grades."
©2015-Art Belliveau
Looking for a Metaphor
I thought
for a long time
that I was a catalyst.
I was there to speed up
and sometimes start
my students and their thinking.
A catalyst in chemical reactions
does that.
And I was proud of my metaphor.
Until...
Not being a science teacher,
I discovered my understanding
of a catalyst was flawed.
A catalyst does indeed start
and/or speed up a chemical reaction--
but in doing so,
it remains unchanged.
And after twenty-eight years of teaching
there is one thing I am sure of...
teaching all these kids has changed me.
So I think I need a different metaphor--
I am not the same person
who started this ride so long ago.
I am different in ways both good and bad
but there is no way
I could do this
and remain
unaffected.
©2015-Art Belliveau
for a long time
that I was a catalyst.
I was there to speed up
and sometimes start
my students and their thinking.
A catalyst in chemical reactions
does that.
And I was proud of my metaphor.
Until...
Not being a science teacher,
I discovered my understanding
of a catalyst was flawed.
A catalyst does indeed start
and/or speed up a chemical reaction--
but in doing so,
it remains unchanged.
And after twenty-eight years of teaching
there is one thing I am sure of...
teaching all these kids has changed me.
So I think I need a different metaphor--
I am not the same person
who started this ride so long ago.
I am different in ways both good and bad
but there is no way
I could do this
and remain
unaffected.
©2015-Art Belliveau
25 April 2015
23 April 2015
20 April 2015
Room 509
my classroom
after school
teachers joking
students leaving
chairs on desks
lights out
resting
planning
grading
ten months a year
my second home
©2015-Art Belliveau
after school
teachers joking
students leaving
chairs on desks
lights out
resting
planning
grading
ten months a year
my second home
©2015-Art Belliveau
19 April 2015
test week
wasting my time
spinning my wheels
another week gone
unnecessary stress
test week 2015
©2015-Art Belliveau
spinning my wheels
another week gone
unnecessary stress
test week 2015
©2015-Art Belliveau
empty walls
empty walls
posters taken down
so boring
desolate
testing takes priority
over teaching kids
©2015-Art Belliveau
posters taken down
so boring
desolate
testing takes priority
over teaching kids
©2015-Art Belliveau
16 April 2015
Uh-oh...
I love my Christmas presents;
They're exactly what I wanted.
Each and every one is just what I preferred.
Mom and Dad got all these presents.
And they decided where to hide them.
Luckily for me, I overheard.
So now I have one giant problem,
With my brand new Christmas presents:
I opened them December Twenty-third.
©2015-Art Belliveau
They're exactly what I wanted.
Each and every one is just what I preferred.
Mom and Dad got all these presents.
And they decided where to hide them.
Luckily for me, I overheard.
So now I have one giant problem,
With my brand new Christmas presents:
I opened them December Twenty-third.
©2015-Art Belliveau
15 April 2015
randomness: four senryu
i reach for the words
which skitter-scatter away
playing hide and seek
the noise in my head
could drown out a hurricane--
wait--what did you say?
almost the last page
can't wait to finish the book--
wish it were longer
turtle crossing road
macadam almost melting--
somebody help him!
©2015-Art Belliveau
14 April 2015
Icarus
Papa,
You just don't understand.
You never did,
for all you are a genius.
The genius.
You understand the architecture of engineering.
You understand mechanics and rudimentary physics.
Your knowledge of the physical world is unparalleled.
But Papa,
me--
your only child,
your only son--
you don't know me at all.
You made me those wings
and you warned me,
"Don't fly too high, my son. The heat will melt the wax"
But how high is too high?
With you there is an exact number.
All I can do is wing it.
How can I remain low and lowly
when you have given me the means to soar?
I feel the joy and the freedom.
I can't pretend I don't.
I refuse to pretend I don't.
How could you not know
merely by putting the idea in my head,
that I would have to try it?
You didn't know, though.
People are a mystery to you.
I am a mystery to you.
Up I go.
You were right, of course.
I fly too close to the golden chariot.
The wax melts.
The feathers molt.
And a new sensation comes to me.
In your head you can do the math;
you can tell how fast I'm falling.
You know how hard I'll hit.
What I know is the joy of soaring.
The laughter of exuberance.
I know that the wind screaming past me
causes my blood to rush through my veins.
And rushing to the waves below,
I scream with the wind,
not in fear, but in defiance!
Do not be sad, Papa.
Do not blame yourself.
I don't.
I thank you.
You gave me choice.
One I made willingly.
I love you.
Good-bye.
©2015-Art Belliveau
You just don't understand.
You never did,
for all you are a genius.
The genius.
You understand the architecture of engineering.
You understand mechanics and rudimentary physics.
Your knowledge of the physical world is unparalleled.
But Papa,
me--
your only child,
your only son--
you don't know me at all.
You made me those wings
and you warned me,
"Don't fly too high, my son. The heat will melt the wax"
But how high is too high?
With you there is an exact number.
All I can do is wing it.
How can I remain low and lowly
when you have given me the means to soar?
I feel the joy and the freedom.
I can't pretend I don't.
I refuse to pretend I don't.
How could you not know
merely by putting the idea in my head,
that I would have to try it?
You didn't know, though.
People are a mystery to you.
I am a mystery to you.
Up I go.
You were right, of course.
I fly too close to the golden chariot.
The wax melts.
The feathers molt.
And a new sensation comes to me.
In your head you can do the math;
you can tell how fast I'm falling.
You know how hard I'll hit.
What I know is the joy of soaring.
The laughter of exuberance.
I know that the wind screaming past me
causes my blood to rush through my veins.
And rushing to the waves below,
I scream with the wind,
not in fear, but in defiance!
Do not be sad, Papa.
Do not blame yourself.
I don't.
I thank you.
You gave me choice.
One I made willingly.
I love you.
Good-bye.
©2015-Art Belliveau
13 April 2015
12 April 2015
late Sunday night
late Sunday night
the stars hide behind clouds
and the windblown rain
taps the windows for attention
i drowse on and off on the couch
as my unfinished lesson plans call
and my ungraded papers nag
pulling me back from the brink
each time i begin to fall
tomorrow comes too soon
©2015-Art Belliveau
the stars hide behind clouds
and the windblown rain
taps the windows for attention
i drowse on and off on the couch
as my unfinished lesson plans call
and my ungraded papers nag
pulling me back from the brink
each time i begin to fall
tomorrow comes too soon
©2015-Art Belliveau
11 April 2015
senryu for Heather
everywhere we went
with every word that you spoke
i heard poetry
©2015-Art Belliveau
with every word that you spoke
i heard poetry
©2015-Art Belliveau
10 April 2015
Need
"I need a pencil!"
this cry is flung out to the universe
or maybe just the classroom
or maybe aimed just for me
i have lost count
of how many times
i hear this
every single day
i hear this
"I need a pencil!"
shouted out plaintively
so many
many times
and the simplicity of this need
makes me a little jealous
i think of all the things that i need
and find my needs are not so simple
nor so simply met:
i need love and closeness
i need space
i need people
i need for those people to respect my boundaries
i need my family
i need them in my life
but not too close
(600 miles is just about right)
i need to feel like
in this life that i have been granted
that i have been useful
that i have made some kind of a difference
even if it is just the difference
of whether or not
a student's need for a pencil is met
"Here's a pencil. Get to work."
i just hope
i just need
for this to NOT be
the only difference i make today
©2015-Art Belliveau
this cry is flung out to the universe
or maybe just the classroom
or maybe aimed just for me
i have lost count
of how many times
i hear this
every single day
i hear this
"I need a pencil!"
shouted out plaintively
so many
many times
and the simplicity of this need
makes me a little jealous
i think of all the things that i need
and find my needs are not so simple
nor so simply met:
i need love and closeness
i need space
i need people
i need for those people to respect my boundaries
i need my family
i need them in my life
but not too close
(600 miles is just about right)
i need to feel like
in this life that i have been granted
that i have been useful
that i have made some kind of a difference
even if it is just the difference
of whether or not
a student's need for a pencil is met
"Here's a pencil. Get to work."
i just hope
i just need
for this to NOT be
the only difference i make today
©2015-Art Belliveau
09 April 2015
Sisyphus
So many days on my teaching journey
all I seem to do is try to make the slightest headway
and my Students seem to be working on their resistance
when i was Younger, it didn't seem so hard
it seemed i just Played with them, and they learned
and it just effortlessly Happened, though that cannot be correct
because memories don't reflect reality Under most circumstances
So the effort i put in before slides past my awareness as i continue slogging on.
©2015-Art Belliveau
all I seem to do is try to make the slightest headway
and my Students seem to be working on their resistance
when i was Younger, it didn't seem so hard
it seemed i just Played with them, and they learned
and it just effortlessly Happened, though that cannot be correct
because memories don't reflect reality Under most circumstances
So the effort i put in before slides past my awareness as i continue slogging on.
©2015-Art Belliveau
08 April 2015
date night
as we prepare to leave
dogs barking
annoyed at being left behind
sending us on our way
with an extra load of guilt
©2015-Art Belliveau
dogs barking
annoyed at being left behind
sending us on our way
with an extra load of guilt
©2015-Art Belliveau
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
