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He was just a little boy.  A little boy who seemed to rub people the wrong way.  Of course only a few people ever stayed close enough to him to find out what he was really about.  You see, Dylan was a foster child, gifted, with a BD label.  How’s that for a profile?  There were days when this child could not catch a break.  And then there were days when he couldn’t give anyone else a break.  His daily life was such a struggle for him. It was like he was wearing a sign that said, “Go ahead, I know that you are going to blame me”.  The terrible thing was, that was the way things generally went.

So, how do we help children like Dylan?  Love them and treat them as if you didn’t know they had the BD label?  Or do you prepare a defense plan, so that you will be ready for the chaos that you are assured will visit your classroom?  These questions deal with the down-side of Dylan’s life, but can you deal with the child, Dylan?  He is beautiful, smart, and so vulnerable.  How can you not come to his rescue when the world in the classroom closes in around him and he lashes out, in the only way he knows, to defend himself?

His teacher is a very compassionate person and did try to take his part when she could justify doing so.  However, Dylan’s responses to interpersonal conflicts were certainly lacking in skill development.  After a while this teacher was overwhelmed with complaints from parents and other teachers, until the foster parents agreed to put him back into a “treatment facility”.  This was a year and a half ago, and to my knowledge he is still in the hospital.  I often wonder how he is doing, but am unable to contact him.

There are times when I am overcome with emotion for children like this.  They have been neglected or abused in some way and they are so often perceived as just a problem for society to deal with.  How will it affect their future, or ours, if they do not receive the help that they need?  Most of us have strong opinions about this subject. 

I know that it is a very difficult task to try to break through the defenses that these children have developed, in order to survive in the real world- – - but if you are successful, the rewards will fuel you for a long time.  I know about all of the time constraints that keep us from doing things the way we want and it is not fair to expect that you can always do these things.  However, if you can and meet him on the street someday, you’ll be so glad that you did.

(The names and photo have been changed to protect the identity of the innocent).

there she be, this resemblance of yesterday

much like her mother, my own child,

holding all the possibilities and wonder for days yet untold,

displaying a gentleness unmatched by nothing in the world

and clinging to the heart strings of all in her wake.

pulling us all together with her wide-eyed, smiling face

as if to say, everthing’s okay now, I’m here–

here to let you know that you have a grand purpose,

one that can be carried out by none other, but you

and for this deed you will receive my undying love and

gratitude, which I hope will carry a lot of weight against

all the misdirected paths that I might take.

love me with all your heart and your heart will grow

into a most wonderful place,

and if you ever doubt your path

just look into my face.

(hey you guys, I have a new grand-daughter, only 9wks. old and she’s just a peach! hope these words find you all well.  God Bless you)

Up There Somewhere

I stand there as if I’d been tagged in a childish game of freeze tag.  Unable to move my body in order to align myself  with  anything real and viable.  Frozen like a stone that sits in the middle of the creek, with only a small portion of it peeking out for the light of day.  And though it stays put and is ever-seeking, the light lingers just on the edge of sight.

Skies of blue on this tingly, Autumn day, present me with a sense of well-being, even though the warm colors of dieing leaves whirl around me.  The melancholy thirst that I have for days gone by often makes my head spin and my thoughts mock the flight of the leaves.  Where was I then?  Why did I do that? but–I can still ask those same questions—and still find no definitive answers.

The longer I stand still, the heavier it all becomes, my thoughts, my will, even my body.  Surely there must be a ladder somewhere, somewhere closer to the taunting blue sky.  I yearn for the warmth of the sun and the light breath of a midday breeze.  Still, the heaviness feels so in control, but I am not happy with its face.  It is not a friendly face.  I want to run from this place, but which way would take me out of here?

There’s a big tunnel to the right, with a bright, amber light at the end of it.  Then there is a gravel road that entertwines with another and becomes one.  There still is the path, worn and glistening in the glare of the sun.  It travels Northward, toward the big sky.  Which road should I travel? Do I need a guide or do I lunge forward with all the breath in me, to a destination far from where I have been or do I cling, safely to the cover that has sustained me this far?

As I raise my hand to wipe away a leaf that has anchored to my hair, I briefly catch a glimpse of a willowy figure softly etched in the shadows of the path heading North.  It was only an instant.  A mere moment in the span of an existence.  Yet, a choice made for me by fate, perhaps.

Layer Upon Layer

     I gathered the sunscreen, towel, chair, my favorite book and headed for the hot sand. I had been warned about walking onto the beach barefoot, but decided against the yellow flip-flops that I’d arrived with.  I didn’t think that these particular shoes would convey the image of a “cool chick” out for a day in the sun.  How could I expect others to see me as someone in the know, when I didn’t even see me that way?  This was one of those first time things that sort of takes on a life of its’ own.  There doesn’t seem to be a lot that you can do with it, except to give in to it.

     Only seven days ago, I found myself lodged at a table with a call list of 100 names spread out before me.  This would be my task for the next several hours.  To contact these strangers and try to persuade them to pledge a certain amount of money for my worthy cause.  Persuasion was one of my strongest tools.  That’s how I had survived for the last five years.

     Since my high school graduation I had worked several rinky-dink jobs in order to survive.  I worked as a waitress, at a little diner in my home town.  That didn’t last long.  It wasn’t much of a challenge for me, or that is what I told myself at the time.  I was well liked there and had met a couple of nice guys during my short employment.  Of course I was still partying with my old crowd of cronies from high school and that wasn’t exactly what the doctor ordered for a working person. Mornings came way too early in those days.  Drinking all night, for several nights a week, soon took a toll on my health and my looks.  I had to get out of this town.  That is the only way I could change my behavior.

     I contacted some relatives and they pooled enough money to buy a ticket to Boston, Massachusettes.  Why Boston?  I’m not really sure, except that I knew there were men and money in Boston. Two of the things that I liked the most. The train ride up there was long and noisy.  There were different groups of people who made their way on and off the train, while I drifted in and out of a restless sleep.  I wondered where they were all headed to.  Were they running to or away from something?  Were they trying to find or lose themselves?  Next, I asked the same question of myself.  I had no answer.  I was merely in transit.  Going somewhere else.  To try something else.  No specific directions were given to me.  I had to figure this one out for myself.

     Soon, I found myself  floating alongside a beautiful stream.  I wasn’t traveling on the bus anymore.  It felt more like riding on a feather, no more there than a summer breeze.  I looked for the ground, for a place to anchor myself.  A place to try and make sense of this array of happenings.  At home, angry and alone, desperate move, train ride to Boston, and now here, wherever this is.

 

Little more than a bare naked stick

the long branches of the mighty oak
seem to crawl across the sky

searching for the warmth of the Sun

and Mother Earth

 the feathery green hue that bathes him now

 will soon blossom  into a sea of green dancers

swaying together

in a soft summer tune

 that touches me so gently on my  face

 that my  hair barely moves

while I sleep beneath him

 

after many days of coming here on sore bare feet

I feel like I know this tree

and whats more,  I think the tree knows me.

                                                    any child

Johnny wakes to the sound of a Spring robin’s song,

     alerting him to a new day, or is it?

The word ‘new’ has meanings that may not apply,

     to this little fellow, with the beaten brow and the empty face.

 

Following the morning song comes the dread of wakefulness,

     rapid heartbeats and stomach quakes.

 Wide-open eyes scout the room for others who share

     this space, time and same fate.

 

 What is it that waits on the other side of that door?

     Cold floors, empty cabinets and no milk again?

His heart sinks even lower again, more than before

     when he hid with the others to avoid the sight

Of loved ones imprisoned, possessed by invisible demons

     that dance behind their eyes.

 

How can one so small, trying to stand so tall,

     walk in these shoes for just one more day?

 

In the distance he hears the sound of the big yellow bus,

    he takes a deep breath and rushes for coats and shoes.

Struggling to place each one on the head where it belongs,

    we rush to the platform that will take us away–

              for one more day.

 What technology skills did I learn today?  What useful ideas and techniques did you encounter or practice?  Today I was able to replicate the process learned during Ian’s last visit.  I was able to use the Power Point format to make up an activity for any class of students.  It will be like having a classroom discussion, except that the questions/comments will be up there in large print, coming at them with some intensity and focus.  Many of our students fail to do well in academics because they lack the ability to focus on the task at hand.  With the help of the Power Point tool, they will be more able to concentrate and channel their thoughts on this particular task. Ian also demonstrated how to create time intervals between the slides, so that time for discussion and/or response could be built into the lesson. I also became more proficient at copy and paste and putting attachments onto my e-mails. 

 We also discussed how the regular use of these techniques on the computer would allow me to retain this knowledge better. Ian suggested that I set aside at least one time period during the week to practice and expand upon what we have worked on during our sessions. I can also see how the students could use a power point presentation to do a book report or story summary.  Not only will they feel responsible for the contents of the text, but will also be able to practice and perfect a technology skill.  Actually, this format could be used for many assignments where summation, discussion and presentation skills are needed.

If, or when I am ever asked to share some important information with other staff members, the power point will also be an important tool for me.  It will enhance the presentation of the information that I wish to convey to my colleagues.  As I mentioned earlier, this process will also help the presenter gather and select which information to present, as well as the best sequence to use for presentation.  This information can be stored as power point and can be edited to include new information.  This type of tool can also be used by more than one participant.  Due to the nature of the design, two or more people can research and report information on the same subject and present it together, on one power point presentation. This could  be seen as a lesson in technology and literacy skills.  It will also provide a lesson in collaboration, which may be the more important lesson to learn.

I would like to take this opportunity to thank you Ian.  Thank you for traveling the distance to meet with me.  Thank you for being patient with me and for creating a very encouraging, learning environment.

Dark Rogue

Go ye from me, you dark and dreary spirit of a man

Slither back into the slimy bog from whince you came.

It is for no concern of mine that you stand.

Tall and stout on that marred leg that makes you lame.

Beckoning all that might succumb to your seduction

Be they young, old, entranced or just afraid.

Mingling with you or yours brings destruction

Where you must then lie in the bed you’ve made.

None will want you, of wounded spirit and broken mind

Gouging into lives, with them having your way

Never going too far for your victim to find,

Uncaring and relentless your image will stay.

In the forefront of minds not yet aware

Of the force and guile your presence betrays.

Flee from me, you sordid excuse for essence

For mine is not the heart for sacrifice.

Wander amidst the dragons slain

By hearts of purity and price.

Neglect the stopping by for care

Of things no longer mentioned.

No kindness or memory of you

Will ever hinder my intentions.

I am now and forever will be

The dreams my youth have brought.

Constant, promising, renewed visions

That will sustain the power of thought.

A power greater than life itself

Will keep me moving, thinking

Escaping that place for me on the shelf.

Answers Not

Gray skies everywhere

     are choking the light from my heart

Washed by the dismal threads

     I wander in search of some light

Something to allow me to turn

    the seductive hand of fate

Running now, from the dragons of time

     clipped by reminders of days gone by

Flailing to escape destruction

    of the purest kind

My weighted body falls forward

    lapping at the wind

The windows turning into

    a blurry, dark path

I have often wondered why the wounded

    bird gives up and falls to the ground

And now I know.

Click and Drag Time

What new technology skills did I learn from my recent time spent with Ian? As you know, almost anytime I get to be involved with technology I get exposed to something that I don’t really know how to do.  Today our goal was for me to develop a power point presentation from my SI demo information.  Of course it was necessary for me to sort of summarize the information from each section of the presentation. This is the information that I placed on the different slides that make up the power point presentation. This is the same information that I had put on index cards this summer before I did the presentation.

I wasn’t even sure how to get to the program that would allow me to create the slides. All of this was new to me.  After Ian walking me through a few of them I was able to replicate the process and add enough slides to cover the information involved. Another important thing that I learned, was the difference between closing down an application and closing down a program. Before, I just always went to “File” and scrolled down to “Exit” and I was out, not realizing that there were two separate entities involved. It’s the same when I am surfing the internet. I just close everything down, rather than just getting out of whatever screen I am on.  Knowing this will save me some, often precious, time.

I might add that I have a bit more confidence, with regard to creating and using the power point method for aiding in the distribution of information.

This new information skill will allow me to teach it to my students. To let them see the wonder of their own thoughts and words up there on the screen.  Most of my work with students is centered around reading/reading skills.  Summarizing is a reading skill and is one that is difficult for many students to learn.  In preparing a power point presentation the summarizing skills are very important.  This technique could also help students present a book report/review, using the slides as prompts for each part of the story structure.

I’m afraid that being a ”teacher of teachers” has been one of those things that I have never been asked to do.  Of course having a power point enhances any presentation.  I believe it will also help the presenter do a better job of recalling and developing information. Most professionals are in tune with technology and would surely enjoy learning with the help of technology.

And once again I am overtaken by the strength of relationships that have been borne out of the Writing Project time.  I consider myself lucky to have a few friends, like Ian, who will go that extra mile to help a friend.  Yes, I know that he will be compensated, but it’s a long way down here and most people from the “metro area” avoid making the trip.

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