I watched in abject horror
As the second tower was struck
I stared, not wanting to believe
As terror ran amok;
As people ran ghostlike
Covered in dust and debris, then
In a parting of the clouds
I spied Liberty.
She stood amongst the confusion
Of dust and fire and smoke
And in that vital moment,
I knew that there was Hope.
As broadcasters continued
The reports that came
Said the Pentagon had been struck
By a third hijacked plane
And a fourth had been taken
But the passengers were made aware
And struggled against the attackers
And thus the jet crashed where
In a field in Pennsylvania
Far from its intended goal
Its remains to me were a symbol
Of our nation's gaping hole.
And of the hours and days that followed
So many images come to mind
Of heroes sifting through rubble
Searching for those left behind;
Of the rescuers who ran in
While others rushed out--
Of raising flags over the smoking ruins
To show our pride and clearly shout
You may have brought down our buildings
But you have failed in your ultimate goal
For although we are wounded and bleeding
At the core we remain whole.
You can kick us; you can wound us;
You can sting our national pride
You can kill us; you can insult us-
But you cannot make us hide.
We are America
Home of the Brave, Land of the Free
We struggle now but we will survive
This, the Home of Liberty!
While bricks and steel may crumble
And bodies may bleed and die
America will continue to go on
We will hold our heads up high.
The loss of lives is awesome
And grievous that's true
But still flying above us
Is the Red, the White, and the Blue
And Liberty, through the rubble
Casts her Light across the Land
Yet should her Torch ever go out
United we still stand.
We are more than our symbols;
More than buildings tall;
We are a Nation of Promise
And no terrorists will make US fall.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
A Thought on Terrorism
In the name of Peace and Love
We sentence you to die
This is not a new idea
Yet we wonder why
A terrorist canuse religion
To explain away his deeds
To justify his hatred of us
And his murderous needs
It will never make sense
Using God to justify hate
Or vengence in the name of religion
To kill and call it Fate
We sentence you to die
This is not a new idea
Yet we wonder why
A terrorist canuse religion
To explain away his deeds
To justify his hatred of us
And his murderous needs
It will never make sense
Using God to justify hate
Or vengence in the name of religion
To kill and call it Fate
Haunted
Of course there are ghosts
There are remnants of the dead which remain
We hold them to us
As a blessing or a curse
We play the images they helped us to create
In our minds.
Those memories are bittersweet
Pictures of good times and bad
Yet they can play forever in our minds
Messages of joy & comfort; of anger; of punishment...
We look at who we are and we see Them
In the self-image they helped to create
We'll remember the ways they looked at us
And we'll cringe, cry, or smile
We'll hear the way they thought of us--and themselves
Accepting or rejecting their hate or love
These are the elements of the dead that remain
The living create the ghosts.
There are remnants of the dead which remain
We hold them to us
As a blessing or a curse
We play the images they helped us to create
In our minds.
Those memories are bittersweet
Pictures of good times and bad
Yet they can play forever in our minds
Messages of joy & comfort; of anger; of punishment...
We look at who we are and we see Them
In the self-image they helped to create
We'll remember the ways they looked at us
And we'll cringe, cry, or smile
We'll hear the way they thought of us--and themselves
Accepting or rejecting their hate or love
These are the elements of the dead that remain
The living create the ghosts.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Love thatis Real
Love that is Real
Is love that lasts
For it imporints upon the Soul
Love that is Real
May cut like glass
While having the Power to make us Whole
Love that is Real
Cannot pass
When Death takes the body away for
Love that ie Real
Is a Love that will Last
Beyond how we measure time
It is a Love that stays with us Forever
A Gift Eternal and Divine
Is love that lasts
For it imporints upon the Soul
Love that is Real
May cut like glass
While having the Power to make us Whole
Love that is Real
Cannot pass
When Death takes the body away for
Love that ie Real
Is a Love that will Last
Beyond how we measure time
It is a Love that stays with us Forever
A Gift Eternal and Divine
Sunday, January 3, 2010
Back to School
Christmas Vacation is over, and weather permitting, it's back to work tomorrow. My classroom will be missing some students. Three students have been re-assigned, and one who ran into some legal problems might finally be court-ordered to get the help he needs.
I had a good vacation. I slept most of today, however. It felt good.. I am looking forward to going back to work. I love my students. I love most of the challenges of my job. I don't like some aspects.
There is a new plan to tie teacher tenure to student success and student attendance. I think this is awful. One of my students misses, on average 80 school days year. I don't' have working phone numbers for half of my students. Some have even said their parents have told them if they do well in school their disability check could get cut off, so they need to fail some classes. A colleague of mine had arranged for one of her students to get the cochlear implant--for free-- and the parent dragged her feet because she thought that if her daughter got the implant and could hear, that she would no longer qualify for disability. (She is a hearing parent and her daughter was the only deaf student in the district) This is a battle that is beyond teachers!
I don't think it is a bad thing to judge teachers on how students perform on tests. I do think it is absurd, if students are performing significantly below grade-level when they enter, say a 7th grade class, to be able to pass the 8th grade entry class at the end of the year. Some of my students came to my 7th grade special ed class with 3rd grade skills. They are expected to take the 7th grade state test--and my performance could be evaluated based on how well they do on that test. If my students come in at 3rd grade skills; have good attendance and have received good grades and leave me still only able to perform at the 3rd grade level, then I am not doing my job. If, as I suspect, one student has gone from 2nd grade reading to 4th grade reading, and 3rd grade math to 5th grade math--hasn't that child made great learning strides? Wouldn't a test that shows that be a better assessment of student progress than seeing if somehow he can now pass the 7th grade skills test?
Just a thought.
Happy New Year
I had a good vacation. I slept most of today, however. It felt good.. I am looking forward to going back to work. I love my students. I love most of the challenges of my job. I don't like some aspects.
There is a new plan to tie teacher tenure to student success and student attendance. I think this is awful. One of my students misses, on average 80 school days year. I don't' have working phone numbers for half of my students. Some have even said their parents have told them if they do well in school their disability check could get cut off, so they need to fail some classes. A colleague of mine had arranged for one of her students to get the cochlear implant--for free-- and the parent dragged her feet because she thought that if her daughter got the implant and could hear, that she would no longer qualify for disability. (She is a hearing parent and her daughter was the only deaf student in the district) This is a battle that is beyond teachers!
I don't think it is a bad thing to judge teachers on how students perform on tests. I do think it is absurd, if students are performing significantly below grade-level when they enter, say a 7th grade class, to be able to pass the 8th grade entry class at the end of the year. Some of my students came to my 7th grade special ed class with 3rd grade skills. They are expected to take the 7th grade state test--and my performance could be evaluated based on how well they do on that test. If my students come in at 3rd grade skills; have good attendance and have received good grades and leave me still only able to perform at the 3rd grade level, then I am not doing my job. If, as I suspect, one student has gone from 2nd grade reading to 4th grade reading, and 3rd grade math to 5th grade math--hasn't that child made great learning strides? Wouldn't a test that shows that be a better assessment of student progress than seeing if somehow he can now pass the 7th grade skills test?
Just a thought.
Happy New Year
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Poem: Coping with this Empty Space
Coping with this Empty Space
What shall I do to fill
This empty space?
True, I have memories-wonderful memories
But somehow they make me feel
THE VOID
So much more profoundly
People wrote and came to visit
Offering their condolences
And for awhile, at least, I felt
Comforted
Letting go is not easy
I want YOU, not the memories of you
They are a lasting tribute to how special
You were…. (are?)
You were and always will be
An important part
Of my life and I will always
Miss you
How could I not?
Perhaps filling
The Void
Is not the right thing to do.
Maybe by keeping it,
Occasionally
Dwelling in it
I can keep you with me.
Maybe the pain isn’t in
the void
I perceive it.
You are gone,
Hopefully to a
Better Place
I will never be the same again.
But even if you were still here,
I would have changed,
For such is
The Substance of Life.
I will make
The Space in my heart
My Tribute to you!
I will remember you—
I may even talk to you
Upon occasion
Letting the void
Speak.
It does, you know.
Your voice is there,
Offering comfort
Support
Advice
Your face is there, too
Smiling
Laughing
It’s funny—I need to try to recall
How long it’s been.
I see that as a good sign
Your death has ceased to be
As important to me
As your Life.
I still miss you
the void
Is still there, as no one can replace
What you filled in My Life
No one should have to.
Knowing that tells me—and you—
How very much you will always mean to me.
The Void is for your physical presence
But it is almost filled by the Memories of You--
Almost.
The Emptiness is my Tribute to you—
Your Memorial.
It is a Lasting Monument I built
And as such,
Though it holds pain
It also holds beauty
For it is a token of
All we shared.
I love you.
What shall I do to fill
This empty space?
True, I have memories-wonderful memories
But somehow they make me feel
THE VOID
So much more profoundly
People wrote and came to visit
Offering their condolences
And for awhile, at least, I felt
Comforted
Letting go is not easy
I want YOU, not the memories of you
They are a lasting tribute to how special
You were…. (are?)
You were and always will be
An important part
Of my life and I will always
Miss you
How could I not?
Perhaps filling
The Void
Is not the right thing to do.
Maybe by keeping it,
Occasionally
Dwelling in it
I can keep you with me.
Maybe the pain isn’t in
the void
I perceive it.
You are gone,
Hopefully to a
Better Place
I will never be the same again.
But even if you were still here,
I would have changed,
For such is
The Substance of Life.
I will make
The Space in my heart
My Tribute to you!
I will remember you—
I may even talk to you
Upon occasion
Letting the void
Speak.
It does, you know.
Your voice is there,
Offering comfort
Support
Advice
Your face is there, too
Smiling
Laughing
It’s funny—I need to try to recall
How long it’s been.
I see that as a good sign
Your death has ceased to be
As important to me
As your Life.
I still miss you
the void
Is still there, as no one can replace
What you filled in My Life
No one should have to.
Knowing that tells me—and you—
How very much you will always mean to me.
The Void is for your physical presence
But it is almost filled by the Memories of You--
Almost.
The Emptiness is my Tribute to you—
Your Memorial.
It is a Lasting Monument I built
And as such,
Though it holds pain
It also holds beauty
For it is a token of
All we shared.
I love you.
Buddy
On the day my father died, he asked, "Who let the cat in here. I hate cats, please take the cat out." We assured him that there were no cats. When he died a few hours later, we all heard meowing. We were all home and knew Dad had lost his battle with cancer. A week to the day later, Sept 18, 2009, was Dad's big memorial service. I was living at the home he shared with Mom and was awakened by a plaintive meowing. I got up and went outside. I called, "Here, Kitty, kitty!" and this little cat ran up and jumped into my arms. I brought him inside. My mother said, "We haven't even had your father's services yet!" I assured her I didn't intend to keep him, that perhaps our neighbors who had cats might want him. We called, and I took the kitten over on the golf cart for them to see. I told the woman the story, and she said she didn't want to take him until a vet gave him a clean bill of health, but she had friends who might. When I told her the story about dad, she advised keeping the cat, saying the two were linked. When her friends called a few minutes later, mom explained what was going on and asked that they call back later in the week. They never did.
At the Memorial Service, mom told friends about the cat. They all said we had to keep him, that dad had sent the cat. Even friends who knew that dad HATED cats said the same thing. So, the cat stayed.
I took the cat to the vet for evaluation, declawing, and shots. He guessed his birthday was late July. My paternal grandmother, who also died that year, was born on July 22. She was not overly fond of cats, either. yet there was another link. We became a cat family. I named the cat Buddy. A few months later, we added Callie the Calico. They stayed with me when I moved into my own place.
Two weeks ago, we lost Buddy. He had been losing weight, despite eating. he seemed to have trouble gauging distances and stopped jumping up on the bed or on my desk. If I lifted him up and he jumped down, his hind legs didn't' want to support him. Still he remained a happy cat who wanted to be near me.
One night, after I had completed work for an online class, I picked Buddy up from where he was laying in the doorway and carried him to the bedroom. He went to the other side of the room and laid down with his back against my husband's nightstand. I worried that he might get stepped on, but figured he would move. I took a shower and went to bed. About an hour later, KC, the latest cat, awoke me because she was playing with a bag. I got up to throw the bag away and spotted Buddy in front of the slider having a seizure. I picked him up and he seemed to calm down, so I laid on the bed with him on my stomach. He'd stop seizing, purr when I petted him, and then the seizures would start again. I was sobbing. My husband woke up and wanted to know what was wrong. I told him and asked for a towel to put under Buddy, just in case. He wanted to know what we could do. I asked him to call the vet. Buddy was having seizure after seizure. It was 2AM. He called the vet and we got dresses to go. Buddy's seizures slowed down some. I held him down where Callie and Peanut and KC could smell him. All three cats rubbed noses with him. Callie licked him. We got in the car.
Half way there, Buddy took a big sigh. He looked at me and his body went limp. He still breathed, but I know he was no longer fully there. His eyes remained fixed on my face as we drove. When we got out at the vet, it was clear that only his body remained. The vet gave him an injection in the liver. I pet Buddy as he breathed his last. His eyes never seemed to leave my face.
We had him cremated. His remains are in a beautiful pine box. We were given a plaster medallion with his paw print. I am glad the ground was too hard for burial and that I can now keep him with me. I really do believe that Dad and Grandma sent him. He was my friend in the toughest period of my life. He slept by me almost every night, and thank to him, I felt my dad and grandma were with me. His death makes me miss them all, but I know they are all together. When I get down, I smile thinking about whose lap he sat in first.
At the Memorial Service, mom told friends about the cat. They all said we had to keep him, that dad had sent the cat. Even friends who knew that dad HATED cats said the same thing. So, the cat stayed.
I took the cat to the vet for evaluation, declawing, and shots. He guessed his birthday was late July. My paternal grandmother, who also died that year, was born on July 22. She was not overly fond of cats, either. yet there was another link. We became a cat family. I named the cat Buddy. A few months later, we added Callie the Calico. They stayed with me when I moved into my own place.
Two weeks ago, we lost Buddy. He had been losing weight, despite eating. he seemed to have trouble gauging distances and stopped jumping up on the bed or on my desk. If I lifted him up and he jumped down, his hind legs didn't' want to support him. Still he remained a happy cat who wanted to be near me.
One night, after I had completed work for an online class, I picked Buddy up from where he was laying in the doorway and carried him to the bedroom. He went to the other side of the room and laid down with his back against my husband's nightstand. I worried that he might get stepped on, but figured he would move. I took a shower and went to bed. About an hour later, KC, the latest cat, awoke me because she was playing with a bag. I got up to throw the bag away and spotted Buddy in front of the slider having a seizure. I picked him up and he seemed to calm down, so I laid on the bed with him on my stomach. He'd stop seizing, purr when I petted him, and then the seizures would start again. I was sobbing. My husband woke up and wanted to know what was wrong. I told him and asked for a towel to put under Buddy, just in case. He wanted to know what we could do. I asked him to call the vet. Buddy was having seizure after seizure. It was 2AM. He called the vet and we got dresses to go. Buddy's seizures slowed down some. I held him down where Callie and Peanut and KC could smell him. All three cats rubbed noses with him. Callie licked him. We got in the car.
Half way there, Buddy took a big sigh. He looked at me and his body went limp. He still breathed, but I know he was no longer fully there. His eyes remained fixed on my face as we drove. When we got out at the vet, it was clear that only his body remained. The vet gave him an injection in the liver. I pet Buddy as he breathed his last. His eyes never seemed to leave my face.
We had him cremated. His remains are in a beautiful pine box. We were given a plaster medallion with his paw print. I am glad the ground was too hard for burial and that I can now keep him with me. I really do believe that Dad and Grandma sent him. He was my friend in the toughest period of my life. He slept by me almost every night, and thank to him, I felt my dad and grandma were with me. His death makes me miss them all, but I know they are all together. When I get down, I smile thinking about whose lap he sat in first.
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