Quality of Life The story goes that my parents at one point made official a “do not resuscitate” order in the event of some cataclysmic approach of eternal darkness–and then, at some later point they changed their minds, in order, I can only guess, to live as long as they could live. That cataclysmic eventContinue reading “#65: Quality of Life”
Tag Archives: poem
#63: Pilgrims at the Table
Pilgrims at the Table I understand that on the first Thanksgiving there was no meal between Pilgrims and Indians, there was no peaceful gathering around a turkey or anything in particular having to do with corn, but rather, John Winthrop’s declaration of a “day of thanksgiving” when he received the news that 700 Pequot IndiansContinue reading “#63: Pilgrims at the Table”
#62: Leaves
Leaves I love the trees but hate the leaves. Each fall the oaks bury us several times over. You see that big pile surrounded by mostly green grass? In a week there will be no green grass; in a day, perhaps, if there’s a wind, there will be no green grass and the process willContinue reading “#62: Leaves”
#60: The American Teenager Claims The Puritans Were Speaking Old English
The American Teenager Claims The Puritans Were Speaking Old English He wants to say the Puritans were speaking or writing in Old English; a pet peave of mine, this calling by students Old English what is essentially their language, modern English, a language they don’t really know that well after all. But they know evenContinue reading “#60: The American Teenager Claims The Puritans Were Speaking Old English”
#59: Out of the Mouths of Babes
Mom and Dad are not religious, and have not yet taught their boy much about the wide array of stuff people believe in their hearts and homes and churches, but the boy’s starting to catch on with or without their intervention and today it was clear, to Dad anyway, that some intervention will be necessaryContinue reading “#59: Out of the Mouths of Babes”
#58: Classroom Management
A student entered the classroom of my colleague with a rat. Really. The rat was traveling visibly underneath the boy’s clothing, around the stomach and the chest, up and down the sleeves and nestling in the wide birth of his hoodie hood. It made a girl scream. The lesson, whatever it was, is inevitably interrupted.Continue reading “#58: Classroom Management”
#57: This Is Happening
This Is Happening: Today, in my first official act as reverend, I will officiate the wedding of two former students of mine. I have written some words for, rehearsed and supped with these two bright stars from some deep place earlier in my career some 15 years back. And I wonder at this turn ofContinue reading “#57: This Is Happening”
#56: For Seamus Heaney
Between my finger and my thumb The squat pen rests. I’ll dig with it. from “Digging” by Seamus Heaney For Seamus Heaney Many years ago now I wrote a poem about my father inspired by Seamus Heaney’s “Digging,” the first Heaney poem I ever read. In the same way the poet continues his father’s workContinue reading “#56: For Seamus Heaney”
#55: Ode to the Handyman
I can barely hammer a nail into a piece of wood, but this guy comes over to repair glass, wire things up, lay tile, fix the plumbing, pour pavement, measure twice, cut once, hang finish carpentry and restore old lamp fixtures to their original glory. I never developed these skills or had the inclination toContinue reading “#55: Ode to the Handyman”
#54: The School Year Begins with a Crash of the Hard Drive
The School Year Begins with a Crash of the Hard Drive on which my entire life’s work as a teacher was “saved.” My technology guy, bless him, was able to retrieve nearly every last god-forsaken item– except any kind of organizational feature previously attached. So all perhaps one thousand assorted folders, documents, presentations, audio files,Continue reading “#54: The School Year Begins with a Crash of the Hard Drive”
michael jarmer 