Funny Facebook

"You cry, I cry. You fight, I fight. You jump off a bridge, I will miss you."

A 1st & 2nd Grade Anecdote

The names of the innocent have been changed to protect their innocence.

The 1st & 2nd grade teacher shared with me a note one of her students had written as well as the story accompanying it. It goes like this . . .

Kyle handed her a note on Monday. It read:

XOXOXOXOXO

Miss Duncan

She thanked him warmly, then asked him if he would write his name on it so she would know who it was from. He revised it and returned the following to her:

Dear Kyle

XOXOXOXOXO

Miss Duncan

Kyle gets things mixed up sometimes.

Poetry of John Keats

A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:   

Its loveliness increases; it will never   

Pass into nothingness; but still will keep   

A bower quiet for us, and a sleep   

Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.            

Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing  

A flowery band to bind us to the earth,   

Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth   

Of noble natures, of the gloomy days,   

Of all the unhealthy and o'er-darkened ways             

Made for our searching: yes, in spite of all,   

Some shape of beauty moves away the pall   

From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon,   

Trees old and young, sprouting a shady boon   

For simple sheep; and such are daffodils             

With the green world they live in; and clear rills   

That for themselves a cooling covert make   

'Gainst the hot season; the mid forest brake,   

Rich with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms:   

And such too is the grandeur of the dooms             

We have imagined for the mighty dead;   

All lovely tales that we have heard or read:   

An endless fountain of immortal drink,   

Pouring unto us from the heaven's brink.        

Nor do we merely feel these essences             

For one short hour; no, even as the trees   

That whisper round a temple become soon   

Dear as the temple's self, so does the moon,   

The passion poesy, glories infinite,   

Haunt us till they become a cheering light             

Unto our souls, and bound to us so fast,   

That, whether there be shine, or gloom o'ercast,   

They alway must be with us, or we die.

If you read this all the way through, then perhaps you too have 

felt the brush of heaven that must have been in this man's pen.

If, on the other hand, you have skipped many lines to find

my comments below, I offer my inspiration for this poem: 

Bright Star, the stunning romance of this poet 

and the woman he loved.

February Bulletin Board

told you it'd be infrequent

Stayed up making a puzzle with mom (again, seester) and watching the opening ceremony for the Olympic Games so . . . this is it. Revenge of the over-blogged. And it only took two days for me to get this way. Over-blogged. Pathetic really.

Did I mention that I didn't have school today? You hate me now, don't you?

Me and My Mom

There is a moment of truth in every one's life. This particular one has come to me at a time of change. A time of coming into my own as a person. Leaving the childhood of education behind and becoming an adult. And, in at least one way, becoming my mother. The epiphany occurred as follows:

A couple of weeks ago, a seventh grader wandered into my classroom for a chat. My own fifth and sixth graders were at a special (music, gym, art, etc.). After a few minutes of conversation, she complained of a sore, aching throat that had plagued her all day. Excited to be prepared for such an event, I stopped her from leaving and reached for my purse - I had cough drops! I was prepared for her malady and had the cure! This is unusual for me. But right in the midst of my elation, my mind collided with an unmovable thought - "I'm becoming my mother."

You know, the woman who carries everything except for the kitchen sink in her purse. Who you need only state your need to and she supplies it. I'm morphing from my old irresponsible self into a more alert, prepared being who's very preparedness led us as children to assume she either had eyes in the back of her head or was from outer space and had extra-sensory perception only dreamed of by humans.

So there I was, trapped by the reality that might shape the remainder of my existence - turning into my mother. And further perusal of my purse only confirmed it! First of all, the purse itself was no longer cute and small but instead the size of an overnight bag. The contents? A first-aid kit, an umbrella, mace, a planner, a Tide pen, a flashlight, comb, hairspray, hair creme, more pens than necessary - the list could go on but won't. And right now, you're laughing at me, because you - twenty or thirty something woman - could look into your purse right now and discover many of the same things. So you laugh at me for my overreaction. You laugh because you have not yet reached this moment of truth:

You have become your mother.

It's Snowing

Now that might seem obvious, but everyone's talking about it. It's the hot news! It's snowing.

You see, we happen to live a technologically advanced society. Which means we're so high tech that we can sit in the comfort of our homes and hear every major news station, local news stations, and weather channels (both "normal" or in high def) tell us that "it's snowing." You could look out your window and see the verification of this fact, but why? Why? when you can watch what your hometown's streets look like on the local news; you can track the storm's effects on other areas of your state and the country on national news and the Weather Channel.

Truly, this is the future! Ah, the bliss of hearing from a news anchor what we could ascertain for ourselves! "No one should be driving in this." Well, of course not, even I can see that the road is covered with snow. "It's a whiteout! We have zero-visibility!" Um, yeah, I can't see very far out into the neighborhood.

I'm so glad I watched the news today! I salute the reporters who are standing out in the snow because we won't. I salute the anchors in the newsroom for their patience as they will be repeating the same mundane information for the rest of the day while desperately trying to make it sound new and interesting. I salute the producers of the news channels for their commitment in transmitting to the American people what we would rather not discover for ourselves. And I salute you - weather news addict - who will keep your TV monitor on throughout the day so you can receive the latest update. Go you, American. It's the Dream - "life, liberty, and the pursuit" of worthless information!