This morning, I put the final touches on our Poetry Garden. It’s outside my classroom and is full of flowers that my students decorated with Spring haiku (for the most part).
We’ve gotten lots of compliments so far, and it definitely raised my rainy-day spirits. 🙂
Here are some closeups:
And here’s my haiku:
Tiny flowers burst
into a symphony of
hue: Springtime Revisited.
I’ve been going through a lot of old newspaper clippings, pictures, and papers lately and ran across this old poster I made for a Flaming Blue Iguanas gig at the long-closed Ray’s Ribs. I’m not sure of the date, but it was likely 1996.
My favorite quotation and my favorite Photoshop all in one!
I made this for a class I took last year. It was my final project, a lesson that I could use to teach my students how to use an aspect of the graphics program.
I haven’t used it yet, but another English teacher used it this year with her journalism students and said they loved it.
Posting the directions for this project at mrshawke-dot-com is on my to-do list for this summer.
=)
Well, I don’t see any apples. I see some kind of evil-eyed guy with a helmet…
One really cool thing about hanging out with Grandpa.
(“Except the bumps,” Atticus says.)
*Title by Mr. Hawke ;P
By Atticus, who came to help me get ready for my sub yesterday morning. 🙂
One thing about being a teacher is that a day off is almost never a day completely off. Plans and copies must be made; classroom desks must be organized; agendas on the board must be written.
So while I took care of all that I need to, Attie amused himself with the markers and board. Love it!
…in the strangest of places…
photo credit: rolandojones
This morning, we were sitting in the van at the bus stop, right on the side of Highway 29.
It was about 7:15, and since we had a little time before the big yellow bus would be stopping to pick up Lucas on its way to school, we were checking out the little black birds and robins hopping around in the grass.
And then we spotted a little rabbit, in between two telephone poles, and way too close to the road for comfort.
“Don’t go to the road, little rabbit!” we all said aloud, though the rabbit was far away and oblivious to his audience.
But with each little meandering hop, the little bunny got closer and closer to the cars, trucks, buses, vans whizzing by … sure destruction!
I could see the splat in my mind. I certainly didn’t want to witness it with my boys!
Lucas decided we should all pray.
“In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti.” Lucas, Atticus, and I — good Catholics — made the sign of the cross on our chests: “Amen.”
As I thought to begin a prayer for our new hopping friend, Lucas started one of his own:
“Dear God, please protect the little bunny rabbit and don’t let him get hurt on the road. Amen.”
So precious! My heart is full of joy, peace, and love just writing it. (And missing, as well, since today is the day we have to let him go for a week…)
And such that I am, I couldn’t let the life-lesson opportunity pass.
“Sometimes, you guys are like that little rabbit,” I began (probably with my teacherly tone, though I’m not sure I would recognize it myself), “on the edge of getting hurt or getting in trouble. And we try to do everything we can to keep you away from it.
“Sometimes, we have to go right up to you and pull you away, especially if it’s really dangerous, like walking in a parking lot or not getting lost in a store.
“And other times, if it’s not life-or-death, we stay back a little — praying, hoping, loving — to let you learn how to stay out of trouble on your own. Because eventually, there will be times when we just can’t get that close, like when you’re in school, Lucas. Or when you’re at Susie’s, Attie.
“We can’t be right there beside you guys all the time, and you need to be able to figure out where the road is for yourself.”
By the time my little lecture was over, the bunny had hopped into the taller grasses at the far end of the yard, out of danger for the time-being, at least.
We cheered.
Then, the bus came and went, my little one inside, going down that big highway, and Attie and I drove on into our day, me praying, hoping, and loving.
These gorgeous irises were a gift to my mother from my brother. They were originally growing in Franklin County, I believe, where our grandmother Ruby Barbour grew up. She brought some back to Danville, and gave some to Bobby to take to Lynchburg before she died.