Showing posts with label overworked. Show all posts
Showing posts with label overworked. Show all posts

Friday, October 16, 2020

Poetry Friday: "I am overtired"




AFTER APPLE PICKING
by Robert Frost

My long two-pointed ladder's sticking through a tree
Toward heaven still,
And there's a barrel that I didn't fill
Beside it, and there may be two or three
Apples I didn't pick upon some bough.
But I am done with apple-picking now.
Essence of winter sleep is on the night,
The scent of apples: I am drowsing off.
I cannot rub the strangeness from my sight
I got from looking through a pane of glass
I skimmed this morning from the drinking trough
And held against the world of hoary grass.
It melted, and I let it fall and break.
But I was well
Upon my way to sleep before it fell,
And I could tell
What form my dreaming was about to take.
Magnified apples appear and disappear,
Stem end and blossom end,
And every fleck of russet showing clear.
My instep arch not only keeps the ache,
It keeps the pressure of a ladder-round.
I feel the ladder sway as the boughs bend.
And I keep hearing from the cellar bin
The rumbling sound
Of load on load of apples coming in.
For I have had too much
Of apple-picking: I am overtired
Of the great harvest I myself desired.
There were ten thousand thousand fruit to touch,
Cherish in hand, lift down, and not let fall.
For all
That struck the earth,
No matter if not bruised or spiked with stubble,
Went surely to the cider-apple heap
As of no worth.
One can see what will trouble
This sleep of mine, whatever sleep it is.
Were he not gone,
The woodchuck could say whether it's like his
Long sleep, as I describe its coming on,
Or just some human sleep.


I know I've been perky and positive in the past about my remote teaching gig, and all of the positives are still there. But I'm here today to tell you the other part of the truth: teaching remotely is hard. So so so very hard. Sit at the kitchen table completely stuck saying over and over again, "I don't know how to do this" hard. Long hours hard. Just longing to hand out a worksheet instead of making everything hard. How can I possibly reach every child hard. Overwhelmingly exhausted hard.

So even though this poem is about apple picking, it is about teaching remotely. How it takes over every waking and sleeping minute. And just at this moment, on a Friday after a late night of conferences on Wednesday and another this morning (and I still have to get ready for math), 

"For I have had too much
Of apple-picking: I am overtired
Of the great harvest I myself desired."


Janice has this week's Poetry Friday Roundup at Salt City Verse.

Friday, May 13, 2016

Poetry Friday -- Mary Oliver





MESSENGER


My work is loving the world.
Here the sunflowers, there the hummingbird —
equal seekers of sweetness.
Here the quickening yeast; there the blue plums.
Here the clam deep in the speckled sand.

Are my boots old? Is my coat torn?
Am I no longer young, and still not half-perfect? Let me
keep my mind on what matters,
which is my work,

which is mostly standing still and learning to be astonished.
The phoebe, the delphinium.
The sheep in the pasture, and the pasture.
Which is mostly rejoicing, since all ingredients are here,

which is gratitude, to be given a mind and a heart
and these body-clothes,
a mouth with which to give shouts of joy
to the moth and the wren, to the sleepy dug-up clam,
telling them all, over and over, how it is
that we live forever.

~ Mary Oliver, born in 1935, American poet



When what I typically call my work becomes just a bit overwhelming, it's good to remember what my work really is (or should be).

Violet has this week's Poetry Friday Roundup at Violet Nesdoly | Poems.



Friday, March 09, 2012

Poetry Friday: MADNESS!

The game is ON!

Ed DeCaria, at Think, Kid, Think, is hosting a March Madness Tournament of Children's Poetry.

There are 64 poets signed up to play...including ME!

There are brackets and seeds and all kinds of other things about tournaments that I don't really understand.

But there is also fun, creativity, spontaneity, voting, and...did I mention already? FUN!

I need some fun.

I woke up this morning thinking about the Poetry Friday post I hadn't yet written, and this is the poem that immediately came to mind. "I am overtired / Of the great harvest I myself desired." ...And I'm not talking about apple picking here, either.




AFTER APPLE PICKING

My long two-pointed ladder's sticking through a tree
Toward heaven still,
And there's a barrel that I didn't fill
Beside it, and there may be two or three
Apples I didn't pick upon some bough.
But I am done with apple-picking now.
Essence of winter sleep is on the night,
The scent of apples: I am drowsing off.
I cannot rub the strangeness from my sight
I got from looking through a pane of glass
I skimmed this morning from the drinking trough
And held against the world of hoary grass.
It melted, and I let it fall and break.
But I was well
Upon my way to sleep before it fell,
And I could tell
What form my dreaming was about to take.
Magnified apples appear and disappear,
Stem end and blossom end,
And every fleck of russet showing clear.
My instep arch not only keeps the ache,
It keeps the pressure of a ladder-round.
I feel the ladder sway as the boughs bend.
And I keep hearing from the cellar bin
The rumbling sound
Of load on load of apples coming in.
For I have had too much
Of apple-picking: I am overtired
Of the great harvest I myself desired.
There were ten thousand thousand fruit to touch,
Cherish in hand, lift down, and not let fall.
For all
That struck the earth,
No matter if not bruised or spiked with stubble,
Went surely to the cider-apple heap
As of no worth.
One can see what will trouble
This sleep of mine, whatever sleep it is.
Were he not gone,
The woodchuck could say whether it's like his
Long sleep, as I describe its coming on,
Or just some human sleep.



Myra has the Poetry Friday roundup this week at Gathering Books.

Friday, November 02, 2007

Poetry Friday -- Teachers' Overture*

*To the tune, more or less, of The William Tell Overture

This song was inspired by the Mom's Overture that we wrote about last weekend, and composed by compiling (and fluffing) the comments to that post. Thanks to all who contributed!

Ready, Teachers? SING IT:


Good morning!
Have a seat,
Quiet voices, sign in.

Eyes up here,
Sit up straight,
Turn your homework in.

Sit down please,
Be mature,
1, 2, 3 and...FREEZE!

Get your books,
Line up now,
Be nice (please).

Marshmallow toes,
Clam lips,
Skinny line, eyes on me.

Have a seat,
Quiet voices,
Time for library.

Get a book,
Get a chair,
Criss-cross applesauce,

SHHHHH
SH SH
SH SH SH.

Are you sure? Where's your work? What did she? What did you?
Whatcha doin'? Are you sure? Again? So soon?
Was that a good choice? What's a better one, then?
Are you sure? Really? What happens when?

No you can't: take a nap, play with food, go again,
Practice wrestling, jump like frogs, eat chocolate for a snack,
go outside without a coat it is cold outside.
ACT YOUR AGE! (Oh, yeah, you are.)

Come to the meeting area.
Bring your writer's notebooks.
Do your self-eval.
Choose a just-right book.

Do your best. Try.
Take a risk. Try.
I know it's hard for you,
Please give it a try.

Fingers on
Home Row,
Pockets on the carpet.

Hands in laps,
Quiet signs,
Voices off, zip it!

Put it away--
back pack!
Take it home, don't bring it back.

Keep your hands
To yourself.
Tell the truth. Help your friend.

I can't hear myself think!
The only one talking right now is ME!
This is your last warning!
Be patient, I'm coming, there's only one of ME!

This is not democracy;
It's a benevolent dictatorship.
I'll explain it later. Ask your parents.
Ask 3 before you ask me!

Nice work!
Good job!
I like the way you did...

Tell me more!
Oh, wow!
That's so way cool!

Easy peezy
Lemon squeezy
I knew you could!

Aren't you proud?!
How's it feel?!
Share with the whole class!

Get your homework,
Get your books,
Get your lunch boxes.

Time to go,
Line up now,
Have a nice night!

Walk please,
Quiet voices,
Don't run to your bus!

WHEW!
What a day,
Where's happy hour?

Friday, April 13, 2007

Poetry Friday -- Did I Miss Anything?


Don't you love Poetry 180? The idea of a poem a day for high schoolers, to be read over the announcements, is brilliant.

Billy Collins, former Poet Laureate, is brilliant.

I have both volumes of the poems because I can just about guarantee that if I open either one anywhere, I can find an accessible and spot-on poem. Which is what I did today.

Today's poem goes out to anyone who struggles sometimes to keep up with life, with (school) work, with parenting, with blogging (reading and/or writing), and with all the rest of everything that gets dumped on the plate you're trying desperately to keep balanced. It's for all those times when we wanted to be there, but just couldn't make it.

(the whole poem is here)

DID I MISS ANYTHING?
by Tom Wayman

Nothing. When we realized you weren’t here
we sat with our hands folded on our desks
in silence, for the full two hours

Everything. I gave an exam worth
40 percent of the grade for this term
and assigned some reading due today
on which I’m about to hand out a quiz
worth 50 percent

.
.
.

Nothing. When you are not present
how could something significant occur?

Everything. Contained in this classroom
is a microcosm of human experience
assembled for you to query and examine and ponder
This is not the only place such an opportunity has been
gathered

but it was one place

And you weren’t here