Showing posts with label work. Show all posts
Showing posts with label work. 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.

Wednesday, April 26, 2017

The Hard Work of Real Human Beings



For the next half of National Poetry Month 2017, 
Malvina will Sing It, and I'll write a poem in response.


Through her music, Malvina addressed issues of diversity and collaboration, as well as economic and labor issues.




The Hard Work of Real Human Beings


Where do cherries come from?
They come from a tree!
And who picks them one by one?
Neither you, nor me.

Where does asparagus come from?
It grows in a field!
And who stoops down to cut each stalk?
Neither you, nor me.

Where do apples come from?
They grow on a tree!
And which strong worker fills buckets all day?
Neither you, nor me.

Where do peppers come from?
On bushes, low and green!
And who must pick each single one?
Neither you, nor me.

How much money do they make?
Do they have the things they need?
Who values their important work?
Neither you, nor me.


©Mary Lee Hahn, 2017




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.



Thursday, August 09, 2012

Poetry Friday -- The Real Work


The Real Work
by Wendell Berry


It may be that when we no longer know what to do
we have come to our real work,

and that when we no longer know which way to go
we have come to our real journey.

The mind that is not baffled is not employed.

The impeded stream is the one that sings.






This poem goes out to all the teachers who are in back-to-school mode, and especially to all the teachers who read OPENING MINDS by Peter Johnston for #CyberPD (I missed the third post AND the final thinking, so I'm counting this poem as my contribution to both. If you read the book, you'll understand how this fits.)

I will carry this poem in my writer's notebook and in my heart this year.

It defies all logic, but I'm hoping for a year full of bafflement, knowing that my mind will be suitably, passionately, diligently employed...and that I, an impeded stream, will be singing.


Yes, I know it is Thursday. Tomorrow is the 10 for 10 Picture Book event. So I'm bringing you Friday a day early. You have a problem with that?!?!

Violet has the Poetry Friday roundup tomorrow 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, October 10, 2008

Poetry Friday -- October in the Elementary School

(Check out this graphic from the blog Indexed before reading the poem.)

October in the Elementary School

Developmental Reading Assessments
(meetings before school)
Spelling Assessments
(meetings during planning period)
Math Facts Assessments
(meetings after school)
Student Assessment and Intervention Database
Interim Reports
Parent Conferences
(staff meetings)
Friday
(deep breath)
Finally Friday
Blessed Friday
Poetry Friday
Ahhhhhh...



Thank you, loyal Blog Readers for your patience during this time of much school work and little blogging.  It's feeling like there will again be enough hours in the day to include reading and blogging.  Beginning today.

The Poetry Friday round up is at Picture Book of the Day.
For more information about Poetry Friday read Susan's (Chicken Spaghetti) poetryfoundation.org article.
For information about copyright and Poetry Friday read Cloudscome's excellent article.   

Friday, January 18, 2008

Poetry Friday -- Work

For my grade level, after a release day of intense work:

To Be of Use
by Marge Piercy

The people I love the best
jump into work head first
without dallying in the shallows
and swim off with sure strokes almost out of sight.
They seem to become natives of that element,
the black sleek heads of seals
bouncing like half-submerged balls.

I love people who harness themselves, an ox to a heavy cart,
who pull like water buffalo, with massive patience,
who strain in the mud and the muck to move things forward,
who do what has to be done, again and again.

(the rest of the poem is here...roundup is at Farm School.)