image by Hugh MacLeod at gapingvoid.com |
Shoulders
by Naomi Shihab Nye
A man crosses the street in the rain,
stepping gently, looking two times north and
south,
because his son is asleep on his shoulder.
No car must splash him.
No car drive too near his shadow.
This man carries the world's most sensitive cargo
but he's not marked.
Nowhere does his jacket say FRAGILE,
HANDLE WITH CARE.
His ear fills up with breathing.
He hears the hum of a boy's dream
deep inside him.
We're not going to be able
to live in this world
if we're not willing to do what he's doing
with one another.
The road will only be wide.
The rain will never stop falling.
We had outdoor recess for two days in a row this week. It got up to 66 on Tuesday. The children abandoned their coats and jackets in heaps at the edge of the playground...and then it snowed again on Wednesday and windchill factors were below zero on Thursday.
Monday, as I stood watching two fourth grade tyrants run a lopsidedly unfair basketball game, I despaired. How can we possibly raise up a generation of world leaders who will find joy in teamwork, who will look out for the little guys, who will laugh with others rather than at them?
I don't have any answers, other than what I do every day and every year: I come back to my classroom with empathy, fearlessness and humor. The road is wide, but the only way to make our way down it or across it is one step at a time.
"We're not going to be able
to live in this world
if we're not willing to do what he's doing
with one another."
Kara has the Poetry Friday roundup today at Rogue Anthropologist.
by Naomi Shihab Nye
A man crosses the street in the rain,
stepping gently, looking two times north and
south,
because his son is asleep on his shoulder.
No car must splash him.
No car drive too near his shadow.
This man carries the world's most sensitive cargo
but he's not marked.
Nowhere does his jacket say FRAGILE,
HANDLE WITH CARE.
His ear fills up with breathing.
He hears the hum of a boy's dream
deep inside him.
We're not going to be able
to live in this world
if we're not willing to do what he's doing
with one another.
The road will only be wide.
The rain will never stop falling.
We had outdoor recess for two days in a row this week. It got up to 66 on Tuesday. The children abandoned their coats and jackets in heaps at the edge of the playground...and then it snowed again on Wednesday and windchill factors were below zero on Thursday.
Monday, as I stood watching two fourth grade tyrants run a lopsidedly unfair basketball game, I despaired. How can we possibly raise up a generation of world leaders who will find joy in teamwork, who will look out for the little guys, who will laugh with others rather than at them?
I don't have any answers, other than what I do every day and every year: I come back to my classroom with empathy, fearlessness and humor. The road is wide, but the only way to make our way down it or across it is one step at a time.
"We're not going to be able
to live in this world
if we're not willing to do what he's doing
with one another."
Kara has the Poetry Friday roundup today at Rogue Anthropologist.